"Nightmares" by Nick Fel

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Date: 48:2 (13 years after the Battle of Yavin)

The TIE Fighters of the 256th Imperial Starfighter Wing roared through the air of the planet Eldor, down towards a city foolishly rebelling against the New Order. Their orders were to strafe a target at a given location, unspecified past its longitude and latitude.

Colonel Nick Fel expected the target would be a power generator of some kind, or a headquarters of Rebel forces.

He was wrong.

Approaching the target, he could see that it was an open square of some sort, possibly once a marketplace. It was in the city centre, not far from the Imperial Citadel, and it was currently filled with people. Scared people. They were not armed terrorists, they were protestors, and they included women and children. Stormtroopers surrounded the square, preventing anyone from leaving.

"Alpha Leader to Control, target is a populated area, please advise."

"Copy Alpha Leader. Proceed with mission."

"Repeat: target is a populated—"

"We heard you Alpha Leader, proceed with mission."

Nick's heart was beating fast, threatening to leap out of his body onto the TIE Fighter's circular viewscreen.

"Sir?" Alpha Two would be about as happy with this as Nick was, he knew.

The square grew closer. Nick could see a lone child, standing in the middle of the crowd, looking up. The crowd was trying to flee now, throwing themselves at the stormtroopers, being shot down as they did. The child stood, unmoving in the chaos, looking straight up at him.

As the child disappeared in a flash of green energy, Nick realised his finger had pulled the trigger, and those green flashes vaporising innocents were his laser cannons…

Nick Fel, General of the New Republic, sat bolt upright in his bed, screaming so hard his throat was raw by the time he stopped. Sweating profusely, he curled into a ball and rested his forehead on his knees, trying to bring his ragged breathing under control, to slow his pounding heart.

The walls of Farpoint's quarters were constructed so that noise in adjacent rooms would not disturb occupants, but Nick realised that anyone awake nearby would have heard him. No matter. Cat knew about the nightmares, Mike most likely had the exact same one, and Moore was a military man through-and-through. He was no stranger to the horrors one faced in military service.

Nick dragged himself out of the bed and stood on unsteady legs, squeezing his eyes shut and pushing his fingers against them, trying to get the small boy's face out of his mind's eye. Not that it would work. It never did.

He knew he had not actually seen the boy that day, they had strafed from much too high to pick out individual faces. But he didn't know if the boy was a figment of his imagination, or someone he had known in his childhood, someone he had seen since. He looked familiar.

The general staggered over to the kitchenette, running his fingers through his hair, trying unsuccessfully to neaten it. He hit the tap, pouring himself a tall glass of ice cold water, and downed it in one go.

There was little point in going back to bed. Any sleep he got would be restless, and he was likely to have to go back to Eldor. No, he may as well catch up on some work.

The corridors of Farpoint were deserted at this time of night. Anyone not on duty was in their sleep cycle, so activity was confined to control centres and offices. The lights in the corridors were dimmed, and the mood subdued, quiet. Nobody would notice that their commanding officer was walking around unshaven, unclean, wearing yesterday's uniform and no boots. Anyone who did see him would also see the look in his eyes, and recognise that spreading gossip would not be a good idea.

Halfway to his office, he changed his mind and turned back the way he had come. He had another destination in mind.

* * * * *

The guard's heavy boots clanked on the grated flooring of the stockade, echoing through its empty, lifeless corridors. Nick's bare feet barely made a sound. Mike Antilles—Jol Allson—was asleep in his cell, but he wasn't here to see Allson.

Opposite Allson's cell was the cell of Tevon Yull, the former Researcher who had betrayed Rogue Squadron to the Empire and the Goa'uld, all to get his revenge on Nick Fel and Mike Burn.

The guard let down the force-field and let Nick in. He didn't bother to remind him of the rules and the safety procedures. Nick was the commanding officer after all, and this wasn't the first time he'd been to see Tevon.

The noble-looking Alderaanian man sat on his thin bunk, trying to read in the dim light. One glance over Nick's bleary eyes, untamed hair, and creased uniform was enough to tell Yull everything he needed to know.

"Having trouble trying to sleep, Nicor?"

"No," Nick said, admiring the way Tevon had used the name of a ruthless yet fictional Imperial TIE Commander that Nick had recently gone undercover as, pulling him away from his New Republic career and back to his Imperial past. He wondered briefly how Tevon knew the name—he must have been talking to Allson. What else had the engineer said? "Once they wake me I don't bother trying anymore."

"Do you expect me to pity you?" Tevon said, "Do you think the memories of screaming TIE Fighters, of faceless stormtroopers, of fire, of dead bodies piled on top of me don't haunt me?"

"I had no— "

"Don't give me that!" The prisoner shouted. "You could've turned and ran, you know you and Burn and anyone else who didn't want to do it probably could've taken the rest of your wing between you. You could've refused and flown back to face your execution."

"They had plenty more TIE Fighters," Nick said quietly.

"It's funny actually," Tevon said, ignoring Nick and moving on. "We returned to Alderaan at least once a year… the same time every year, to go to our retreat in the country for a holiday. If my family were alive, I'd've almost certainly been on Alderaan when…"

"You and your family would have died like everyone else."

"I'd have died like I was supposed to," Tevon sneered. "I'd've died happily, with my family. Instead of slowly, painfully, rotting from within."

"You don't just blame me for your family's death do you?" Nick asked, slowly realising how the man worked. "You blame me for what you've become."

"You created me," Tevon said. "I am your fault. And you hate me for it. Not because I betrayed your New Republic, or threatened your people. Because I remind you of what you were. I'm evidence of crimes that have gone unpunished."

"I don't— "

"Yes you do!" Tevon snapped. "I can see it when you look at me. You despise me. You believe that's because I'm a loyal son of Alderaan and I'm letting the planet's memory down, but it's not."

Nick realised that Tevon had it spot on there. Nick hated the man. He hated what he represented. Tevon Yull was the creation of things that Nick Fel should never have had to do, but would never be allowed to forget.

He was the physical manifestation of the nightmares that plagued him.

And somewhere, in the back of his mind, Nick knew the child was named Tevon.

"Good night, Tevon," Nick said, as he stood to leave.

"Good night, murderer."

* * * * *

Exhausted from a stressful day of mindless administrative tasks that seemed to escalate into minor emergencies demanding his attention, Nick Fel pulled off his uniform's tunic and collapsed into his bed.

Without a thought as to fully undressing or washing, he closed his eyes and was asleep in moments.

The TIE Fighters of the 256th Imperial Starfighter Wing roared through the air of the planet Eldor, down towards a city foolishly rebelling against the New Order. Their orders were to strafe a target at a given location, unspecified past its longitude and latitude.

Colonel Nick Fel expected the target would be a power generator of some kind, or a headquarters of Rebel forces.

He was wrong…