A Smile at Death on Doldur (Miranda)

[Lamar Starworth]

A Smile at Death on Doldur

A pattern of grey and black painted the corridors. Lull accompanied the dull of the colors, with only the tinker of feet clanking against the chilled surface to call at the ear. Not a word could be heard echoing through the fluorescent white of the halls, and the black marble floors shined with a polished glare. Only a soothing buzz vibrated as the droid washed the surface down in the passageway depths. Disturbance had once occupied the world as battle raged, but it had faded with time as it always did. The compelling end called for defense and offense of all sorts. From sky to the ground, the assail pressed forth from all cylinders.

It had happened before, and it would likely happen again--all too horrifically and poetically repetitive. The iambic meter beat the battlefields into a colorless engagement. Existence could not paint such an endless transgression with anything anew. The same echoes of explosion splashed over the seas of flesh, and the same red bolts made a family blue. Many fathers and mothers would not be returning home to their family for the cause...

The cause...

Lamar waited, his regiments dwindled and his pride fading, although his black uniform was as vivid as ever. The Empire had managed another win, and the true victor remained on Colonel Winfield's shoulders. Against the odds of defeat, and a lengthy deficit he expelled the onslaught once more. Friends had been swept in the wind by grenades, impulsive shots and disregard. Sins had been committed, and the price had been paid, but he still remained. Despite the remnants of battle still about, he could only feel as though the perils that demanded so much from others was wrong.

Why didn't I die?

A sigh grappled his stress, and through the clench of his eyes he pushed forth for sight. Life awakened about him, and his body became attuned to the notions of life. The fluidity spread throughout, and the poetry still was spoke in the whispers of the artificial wind. Even the creations of man fell in the patterns of the Force's sowing. All the studying in the world meant nothing without acknowledgment, and experience. Struggles would always come, it was a standard in life, but he would smile through.

He smile would smile through...

"Colonel Winfield? Follow me."

And he smiled through.

[Lamar Starworth]

A congratulation was unexpected, but praise was completely disregarded. Lamar had waltz the bout with a clear-mind, void of emotion, but the aftermath had flashed it's palm through his being. The thrash of death had always managed to beguile him into disdain. Even as the time twisted, turned, and went about he couldn't grasp the reality of his studies in it's absolute magnitudes. The Force was a puzzling concept, that even as he went about his contemplation could never clutch without a scent of ignorance.

Conflict made it no easier.

The life of a Stormtrooper, Colonel or any Imperial Militant beckoned a pathway of distraught. Pain was an imminent element of employment, but it seemed to strike Lamar was a sudden haste at points. He had managed to merit numerous bows, yet he had fallen beyond a humble grace. At times he felt below others, despite their knees or his blaster leaving them at his waist side. In the eyes of a complicated soul, a warrior was meaningless without cause. The Empire had not injected it's thought like a vector into it's prized Colonel as it did many superiors and those of his regiment.

Lamar had seen both sides of the credit, and he rather not purchase anything with it. All of it was on a faulty foundation, based on circumstance. Once hunted by the very organization he worked for, it seemed all to ironic to take too serious. Yet, he had to, for soon he would face the embodiment of it all. Miranda Tarkin had been praised throughout the galaxy by her underlings and citizens for the triumphant climb to greatness.

A woman...

A superior...

His superior.

At times when he thought of the magnitude of such a plateau gave him a shiver, especially at all that she had to conquer. She was certainly an enigma, and any egotistical fool that stepped in her presence would falter. Colonel Winfield knew better, and he was certainly was prepared. A smile and a humble persona were the only tools necessary for a bout a greater adversary than the Rebellion.

"Moff Tarkin and company are awaiting inside, sir."

[Miranda Tarkin]

The insurrection that occurred on Doldur one week prior was still fresh on everyone's minds. The Rebellion had been so bold to stage a sneak attack not even two weeks into the new Governor's term in office. They had wanted to send a message that a Tarkin would never hold the title of Moff ever again.

Most of Rebels had died during the engagement, quite a few were able to tuck their tails between their legs and flee. Moff Miranda Tarkin and Admiral Telan Desaria were able to raise their heads high and relish in victory, but it was a hallowed one.

Many soldiers had died defending the capital city of Doldur during the three days it took the Admiral's fleet to jump into the system. They were three very bloody days of fighting and it was one hell of a baptism by fire. Miranda knew that every sentient in the galaxy were watching her and waiting for her to fail, especially those that were against her promotion, but she was able to defy the odds, rally her troops, and tough it out until reinforcements arrived. She was certain that dissention was inevitable and that her subordinates would bail on her, but their loyalty to the Empire forced them to acknowledge her as they went off to possibly die in battle. Now after witnessing her strength as a leader first hand in their bleakest hour, they were loyal to her. Every last one of them would willingly die for Tarkin.

It gave her great pleasure to prove her protestors wrong and now she had an entire Sector on her side. Soon more would devote themselves to Tarkin and there would be no stopping her. Grandfather would be proud.

At the top of the dais, she scanned the assembled men present in the state room, six hundred in all. There were still signs of structural damage that line the walls from the attack but the room itself was dressed in proper military regalia. Miranda was in her formal uniform, as were the men present beside her for this affair. The Moff was the picture of military grace, full of dignity and pride, save for the three inch wound that had cut across her right brow diagonally for all to see. She had opted to not cover it up as a testament to the price paid for achieving victory. Miranda would also not be so bold that this victory was achieved merely by her own cunning. If it were not for the experience of Admiral Paron, to her left, and General Melia, to her right, there would be no cause for celebration this day.

In fact, if it were not for a certain Colonel, there would have been a breach so severe within the city's defenses that the Rebels most assuredly would have set foot within the capital. It was on this day that Doldur would recognize the bravery of this man ...

"General Melia." The Moffs voice cut through the soft murmurs of the attendees.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"It's time. Tell them to send him in."

[Lamar Starworth]

Face after face splashed across Lamar's mind. Bolts red charged ravaged foe and friend alike, completely unaligned. The alliance of death was only fate, and many dropped to the eternal absolute. All living objects had to come to a considered end, or at least halt. Before the Colonel only could furrow his brow at the stylish defilement of men, but people weren't simply men anymore to him. Every step he hoped to go up the steps to a sense of righteousness...a betterment.

In the light of grace, every sentients story was detailed in all it's beautiful cycle. Despite the numerous stories he ended with his own orders, he had learned to acknowledge the inevitable nature of it all. He did not strike judgment upon these men, he simple went with the flow. At least in his eyes he felt it was necessary.

Compromising was essential at some points, and it was true even in the presence of Moff Tarkin's presence. The standard hat had been left behind in exchange for the comfort of his braids. Lamar's braided hair dangled to the back of his neck, a symbol of growth in his culture and a smile pressed across his face. Very little had been divulged of the meeting, but it didn't matter.

Miranda requested his presence, and he came.

The door sled open quickly, his mind returning to the realization of the moment. Never before had he met the Moff, so the rarity would be cherished. There was always the possibility of being placed upon a bizarre assignments, but that fact would have to be disregarded. Senseless worrying would only contort his mind from pleasantries that extensive labor merited.

A single trot forth set him before the grand assembly. An inhale laid him under his intuitive control, delaying his excitement. Insolence illustrated his admirable eyes in all their luxuriously radiance, playing negligent to the sternness of his faded smile. Across from his stand sat Miranda Tarkin, her beauty drawn like the congregation of Stormtrooper. In every detail she expressed the Imperial ideal of magnificence. Before the door sled close behind him, and the squeak could wheeze a whisper in the chilling silence of the room his eyes warmed at the sight of her face. Even her stitches struck a cord of triumph.

She was beautiful.

This was beautiful.

"Moff Tarkin, this is Colonel Winfield."

[Miranda Tarkin]

Her chin lifted in inspection after his introduction. There was barely a scratch on him but as their eyes met, Miranda could see the horrors of victory reflected back. The Colonel's victory had come at a price. She could see his subconscious mind replying out the bloody battle in which he was the sole survivor from his unit.

Miranda's eyes softened as she addressed him. The brutal truth of war was far too well known for the Moff. "Colonel Winfield. It is a pleasure to meet you. You have done Doldur a great service."

[Lamar Starworth]

Doldur?

The planet came into mind, the goal return and the mission laid before him plainly. In retrospect that emotions engulf his mind in battle. Spite managed to be evaded, but the arsenal of compassion was reorganize in blaster bolts. Images splashed through the crevice of his brain, cascading his sense of reality. Contortions of bodies, fragile and distort splatter across the canvas as demise collapsed upon the world.

The fight was never for..

Doldur.

"Thank you, ma'am."

A nod pushed the thoughts from his mind, jerking it to the rear. Instead of dwelling any further, Lamar muster a few words out as his hands clasped each other behind his back.

"The true service was to you, miss."

He was a liar...and he felt bad. However, he felt it was necessary to pucker his lips to someone's butt. He had already mislead the council in his very entrance in the Empire's forces, no need to heed at such a peak.

[Miranda Tarkin]

If there was one thing that Miranda was good at, it was sniffing out a drannit kisser. Now the question was begged as to whether the Colonel was normally this way, or perhaps he was just taking the opportunity to impress her since there might not be another chance.

"Your dedication to me is admirable and appreciated, but do not forget that the Empire always comes first." She clasped either side of his shoulders and squeezed them. "It's why you are honored today for achieving victory during one of its dark moments. Never forget that."

[Lamar Starworth]

An eye casted Lamar's vision to the side, catching the numerous reassembles. Much of the construction seemed quite rushed, and the display of battle resonated. Doldur was one big mural to the demise that carved its way into Lamar's memory. The Colonel would never forget the anguish that overcame him, even in his eldest years. Such a showcase of uncivilized chaos, and unethical destruction sustained an explicit reign in his mental forecast.

Even his more simplistic acts held a tail back to the core event that cycled him into Miranda's room.

War

"I live for the Empire."

Truth leaked through his words. A seriousness captured his eyes as his gaze returned to Miranda and he observed her. The scrutiny only lasted for the phrase, and his stare peered beyond into a space that couldn't be seen. Despite the change, his words did not find a stumble, and he proceeded onward as the vastness of his thoughts trotted on.

"I fight simply to continue on living. This battle I could never forget, just like the families of all those men."

A sigh escaped him, and his eyes sled to a close. Contemplation provoked his head to a slight nod down, nearly dozing off into the void of his muse. Tentacles of thoughts invoked emotion that he rarely felt, especially without a loved one to bare his last name. All of his own family had become a foreign beings, abo in a sense. The last time he made contact with any them had extended into a year, and with the trail of his life going even further into isolation.

He smiled.

It was necessary. Death would not defeat him after he beat it so many times.

So, he smiled.

[Miranda Tarkin]

"And we fight for them. To ensure their safety and preserve the ideals in which our brethren have died for. They died heroes. And everyone, including yourself, that survived this ordeal will make sure they did not die in vain."

General Melia picked up on that cue and already had the black velvet box set out for the Moff. He pulled back the lid to present the Imperial Silver Cross, the mark of heroism. She gingerly picked up the medal by the clasp. "But today we honor you Colonel Winfield. For exemplary bravery against insurmountable odds which protect our Capital City of Doldur, I bestow upon you the Imperial Silver Cross."

Miranda pinned the medal right below the Colonels ribbons that displayed his tour of duties. Once secure, her hands fell away and motioned for him to turn around. "You may face your colleagues."

[Lamar Starworth]

The motions seem surreal. Even the conversation seem to flow from an unforeseen plane. Unreal notions sent his vision into a daze as the Moff shifted about and grabbed a medal. The crest of grand prestige pressed a long his many other, but Lamar could not think of his previous engagements. Even the very one that merit the reward settled in his memory banks for future recollection. Instead of dwelling on the sad, his emotions shifted readily to the present presence.

Miranda came closer, and so did his eyes to a complete ace. All of the senses of the young Colonel became attuned to all existence. Catalyst pumped throughout the soldier's veins, and his body reminded itself of combat. At any moment he could be prepared for the deliberations of death. A void uprooted around him, leaving the absence of deathly stench resonating in his mind. The formalities of battle had become accustom to him. Fighting under the banner of the New Order was a prized status, but it also had it's cons.

Lamar seemed to engulf himself in it...at least somewhat.

He nudged himself into the consciousness. A smirk resiliently persisted it's way onto his lips as he looked down onto Miranda. The brown orbs shriveled under the smooth, sly pressure of his brows. Configured for a leer, he quickly followed word and spread his vision to his colleagues in a swift turn.

A salute lifted the soldier's palm. Once before the very grip of the hand demanded the conquest through unfair odds. Once before the hand gripped the archaic weapon of the Jedi. Once before the fingers pulled back to conquer a foe for credits. Once before many times had happened, but all was in the past. The medal shined in all it's fluorescence to gaze off to the future.

Even though his eyes saw not Miranda, he felt she was another figure bright within his future.

[Miranda Tarkin]

Three Days Later - Moff Tarkin's Office

Miranda glanced up from the datapad she was holding and narrowed her eyes at the man sitting across from her desk. The medal on Colonel Winfield's uniform had barely cooled and already he was asking for special assignments. She wasn't sure whether or not to laugh at or commend his boldness. Very few people had the courage to ask Miranda Tarkin for favors; they always held a price.

She set the datapad down and folded her hands on top of it. "Tell me, Colonel. Why did you apply for this assignment?"

His file showed no experience in this type of detail and considering his rank, Miranda should only choose him as a last resort. There were plenty of other applicants that were chewing at the bit, praying to get reassigned as part of her personal staff since there were several openings because of the insurrection. She had the arduous task of weeding out the unworthy. General Melia had offered to oversee this to free up the Moff's time for other matters, however she declined politely, saying that if someone was going to take a blaster bolt for her, she needed to take the responsibility of choosing that person herself. In other words, she was going to make damn sure they were going to die for her.

[Lamar Starworth]

Three cycles of the moon, but Lamar's mind had been readily thrown in a cyclone. Nights were left without rest, and days consumed in the bustle. The planet was at a hectic point, with the sector's eyes zoomed in on every move. Doldur had been burdens of a capitol. Despite the hassle of a Coruscanti life, the Colonel hadn't grown completely accustom to the profusion. Rarely had the days grown so far from the raging wars, and his lasting presence.

Daily he was reminded of the triumphant overhaul of the Rebellion fleet. Troopers bodies were endowed with gravestones, and messages were sent back home. Memories continued to flash through his reality, his imagination tormented by his lasting conscience. In no part could he play benevolent and ignorant to the endless call at his psyche. Sleep was a forgotten word, and relaxation demanded for only moments of his time. Boredom transfixed his state, leaving him in a turmoil that he could not completely avoid.

Lamar was displeased with himself.

Before the life of a military officer had been drawn with child utensils. The trivial matters of a guardsman, reconnaissance and standard commission ingrained his resume as a lowly soldier. However, as time blasted through the galaxy without a sense of hesitance, torture targeted him even in the most basic assignments. Rudimentary missions were undone by attacks on the politicians, battles with unknown sentients, and numerous other threats aimed at his neck.

Death surrounded him, even when needless.

Change had become a necessity, and the avoidance of self wouldn't dampen the spirit's crave for modification. Once before he smiled, and ever so genuine. Lamar could only remember such times on Corellia, but they lasted as only faint recalls. In the span of a year a barrage of deficits danced about his dangling threads. Torn and exposed, he sat before Miranda with disrobed eyes as she looked past her resume at him.

Woe webbed a writhed win on his eyes as he peered back. Silence restraint the quarters for a moment. Lamar heard the question, yet he could not respond readily. Termination toil with the young Colonel's mind as he scrutinized himself in the distance. No mirror had been placed in Miranda's eyes, but he could not help to see himself on the planet his battle ravaged. Moff Tarkin stood as the Captain to the vessel he hit. An accident had been committed, as had been done far too many times on his part, and he was in-debt. No other man would see it as so, however, Lamar was troubled with more things than any commoner.

He wanted to plant in some soil. Flowers were to be admired, not thrown in the tornado to die. Battle had stole him of life, Miranda could bring it back. A pleasant nod in recognition would leave him eternally thankful.

"I want to live."

The words weren't exactly right, but he tried. For a moment he allowed the words to stick, as his mind slog through other accessories to his thoughts. He toil on, wondering what were the best words to define his feelings. It seemed that battle had not only stole him of his senses, but his words.

"I want to live on a world. I want to help without killing everything I see.

I need this assignment."

[Miranda Tarkin]

The stoic expression upon the Moff's face didn't change. The Colonel's plea fell upon deaf ears, for Miranda was a child of the Empire's Military. Death was a part of the life in the Empire until the Rebellion's efforts to overthrow the government was decimated. She was not completely callous. She understood the pain of war intimately, but a Tarkin never becomes so saturated in that pain to cloud their objective.

"What you need is not the issue here, Colonel. It's what I need." Her tone was practical but sharp. "If you did not want a life that has led you to killing on a, possibly, daily basis, the you most assuredly signed up ignorantly."

She pushed the datapad forward. "And if you honestly think that death will not be part of this detail, then you are mistaken. I need men who are willing to die for me, as well as kill for me to ensure that my sector of space is secure."

[Lamar Starworth]

A sigh slither from the Colonel's depths. Before a moment could split a hair, he sped his mind through a tunnel of darkness. The dimness of his being quickly lay under the dwindle in the bright of his mind. He had urged for such an assignment, but the capacity had only been regarded. Thought had not processed the niche in it's absolute perfection. Lamar fit the roll...perfectly.

"I have no problem dying."

The sigh had faded off into the distance of his mind, and a smile rose from his lips. In his stomach nestled a feeling far too geniune to be manufacture by propoganda.

"Dying for another person is the greatest honor. I have no problem killing.

As you have seen, I've done it before."

In momentary silence Lamar's eyes diverted off to the walls. He examined surroundings and clarified his thoughts. The world around him stood oblivious to his presence, as if he had been caught off. Then, abruptly, he arose from the ashes of his own deceit. He was completely prepared for whatever she had to say, and the job that seemed so unlikely.

"And I'll do it again.

For you."

[Miranda Tarkin]

Miranda rested her head on top of laced fingers and stared idly at Winfield. He was still desperate, that was quite evident, but he was also sincere in his dedication. Whether that was due to the battle or honoring him with a medal was of no consequence to the Moff. He was loyal to her. But did his loyalty go as deep that she required?

"Tell me," she leaned back again, relaxed, "Why is it you sought to enlist in the Imperial Army?"

[Lamar Starworth]

"Many reasons."

All the purposes dominated the soldier's brain. Images of battlefields, holograms and spectacles engross his essence as the world sizzled into fumes. No longer did the Moff sit before him, her comfort extreme and face cold. The igloo he called his life's abode melted under the burning bridges that toppled behind him. A world of turmoil muffled in his past. Faces that once called upon him, became a void to be forgotten.

The truth revealed itself in that nothing could be lost. In the depth of his mind resided all the trepidations and transgressions. Darkness separated at the sharpened spark of light, meanwhile concrete lies folded his love for shipment away. The cost his existence had faltered, while his head's merchandise rose. Problems arose in the past that he couldn't simply walk away. A run down the alley had become the only options, and darkness shrouded the corners of such a pathway, but he could care not.

The Empire was his corner, his new mask to find comfortable.

He liked it in the corner, and he didn't want to give it up.

"The Army was a remodeling to be better.

And I'm better."

Life found his eyes, and with it words were pulled from their roots. In the swerving conscious he grappled Miranda's face once more with his secure eyes. He wasn't ready to dive back into the truth without a safety net. At least not anytime soon...

"My life then was horrible. My life now is great.

I'm doing something of purpose, instead of trouble. I'm just another humble case the Empire has made grand."

Lamar's eyes fell upon his medal before diverting back to Miranda. In return to the shine of his new jewelry came a smile. He was proud...somewhat.

[Miranda Tarkin]

"You are better?" She repeated with emphasis. "But there is still a part of you that is unsure of yourself."

Miranda looked down at her desk and sighed. "And that is why I am uncertain of your qualifications for this position. I do not doubt your loyalty to me and willingness to do what is necessary to make the Empire prosper under my command. There is just simply doubt. I cannot have that."

[Lamar Starworth]

"What?"

Lamar whispered. He sat completely confused. All of the training, all the fighting, for nothing? The award at the end of the tunnel was held from him by doubt? Honesty had always been the best policy, but he scared.

"Do you want the truth," he asked relucantly. He wanted the position far too bad to play the fool. Hopefully the truth would set him free.

[Miranda Tarkin]

A brow rose inquisitively as Miranda leaned forward and rested her chin upon laced fingers. "That depends. Can you trust me?"

Such a trap of a question she had asked. Of course he couldn't trust her fully. They were merely superior and subordinate, nothing else of consequence had happened to provide a link of camaraderie. There was a general concern for Winfield’s well being, he was her soldier, but she was also a powerful woman. The Colonel had to choose his words carefully …

[Lamar Starworth]

Lamar didn't notice the brow, or even the banter of questions. He looked down, his mind dwelling on the exact words. She was still a Moff, and the power that title held was unreachable by a simple soldier. Even Grand Admirals didn't alway warrant the same respect as section governors. The subordinate stare into his lap, his mind in deep thought. The face of a stone killer awash the compassion and hurt in his eyes as he contemplated on the subject.

There was no dodging the fact that he was Force-Sensitive. Eventually the light would shine on him again, and then there wouldn't be a chance to explain. The only chance was now, but it was ironic that such a secret would be divulged to a perfect stranger.

She was exactly that...perfect. Although his eyes didn't look up to find her own, Lamar still place her on a high status. Only a single conversation and need placed her as an indubitable judger of his fate. All it came down to was either off to the battlefield, or as protection. The latter would fit with any human soldier who had to deal with the death of war. Anyone could shoot a blaster, but it was a rarity even in the vast space of the galaxy to find a true killer.

Lamar didn't like what he had become, and he hoped protecting someone could bring value to his life. Before anything could start on that end, he would have to be upfront and truthful. There was no point in guarding someone that didn't have knowledge of their knight and shining armor.

Raising his head from though, he gaze over at Miranda as he had over and over again throughout the interview.

"I'm more than I say I am."

The words crept from his conscious. He could barley grasp the situation. The whole ordeal seemed out of body, and he couldn't help but feel he was out of his mind.

"Do you anything about the Force?"