Chapter 1He Was Used to Following OrdersIt took Colonel Halland Goth, commander of the Royal Guard, far longer than he had anticipated to finally reach the location of his summons, buried deep in the Imperial Security Bureau Central Office. Entering the building had been the easy part, but being guided through the maze of internal corridors by a junior officer in a light-gray jacket had taken so long, Goth was wondering whether the whole thing was some kind of joke and whether he should simply turn around and attempt to retrace his steps.
Eventually, Goth was shown into an empty office and left to his own devices. Goth paced five orbits of the room, trying to work out why everything in the ISB building was either stark clinical white or flat black. It was disconcerting, and certainly in his maroon Royal Guard jacket, he felt distinctly . . . obvious.
Finally, the door opened, and the person he was apparently meeting walked in. She was tall and thin, younger than Goth by perhaps a decade, maybe more, with a captain’s rank insignia on her white tunic. The woman swept into the room with a smirk, smoothing her long brown bangs over her forehead as she walked straight to a tall cabinet (black against the white wall) that stood behind the desk (also black) and opened a drawer, only to extract a tall blue bottle with one hand and two short blue glasses with another. She placed them on the desk and into each poured a measure of liquid that looked to be about the same color as Goth’s tunic.
The woman offered a glass to Goth and wasted no time in taking a sip from her own. As she did, her ice-blue eyes were fixed on Goth’s. Goth smiled tightly and took the offered glass, but did not drink. There was an intensity to her gaze he found unsettling.
“I know you won’t ask any questions one might find irritating,” said the woman. “You’re a better officer than that.” She gestured for Goth to take a seat as she lowered herself into her own chair. Goth gave a small nod of acknowledgment as he sat. Then he leaned forward and placed his glass on the edge of the desk, the contents still untouched.
“I’m also a superior officer,” Goth said, sitting back. “I could ask you a lot of questions, and I might just order you to answer them.”
At this, the woman laughed, the sound loud, echoing around the hard white walls of the office. “You can try,” she said, “but I’m not sure it will go as you expect.” She tapped the rim of her glass against her rank insignia. “This is just to give stormtroopers something to salute. The ISB is a strictly civilian institution.”
Goth raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
The woman’s smirk reappeared. “My name is Desler. Korali Desler. ISB supervisor.” She took a sip of her drink, then cocked her head. “Among other things.”
At this, the supervisor laid her left hand flat on the desk between them, then curled the hand into a fist, better to display the signet ring on her little finger. Goth—with reluctance that surprised even himself—glanced down at it.
He knew exactly what the ring symbolized. This captain, supervisor, whatever she was, was also a member of another organization, one that Goth himself wanted to join, if only he knew how: the Commission for the Preservation of the New Order, otherwise known as COMPNOR.
Goth forced himself to pick up his glass and take a sip of his drink—it was spicy and strong, and absolutely not to his taste.
And absolutely what he needed right now.
Like the ISB, COMPNOR was an organization that was both new and mysterious. Less an official entity, it was more like a society, one that had members at every level of the Imperial hierarchy. It was a political movement, certainly, but its members operated in the background, providing a guiding hand to the new regime while also helping to disseminate messages and ideas across the Empire, reinforcing the identity and ideology of the new order.
At least, that was what Goth had heard. He’d only met one other person with a signet ring like the ISB supervisor’s, and while he hadn’t pursued it with any particular urgency, the idea of joining COMPNOR was very appealing indeed.
After all, there was no one more loyal, more dedicated, to that new order than he was.
So . . . was this now his chance?
Goth took another sip of his drink and sat up just that little bit taller in his seat. “Are you saying this is not official ISB business?”
The supervisor withdrew her hand with the ring, grinning. “Is anything the ISB does official?” She sat back and drained her glass. “I knew you were the right man. I like you, Halland. Really, I do. You remind me of another chap we have. A lieutenant. You’d like him, I think. He’s dedicated. Like you are. I can see it in your eyes.”
Goth took another drink. Whatever the stuff was, it was growing on him.
“But he’s . . . fresh,” Desler continued. “Green, as the saying goes. Honored to serve the ISB, unsure quite what that service looks like. So I asked him to tell me what the ISB does, and oh!” Desler waved one hand, rolling it in the air along with her eyes. “He gave me the whole thing. He would have recited the entire operations manual if I had let him. So I stopped him and said he was wrong, and he needed to try again. So he thought about it—I mean, you could see it on his face, he was really trying, you know—and then he gave this whole speech about how the ISB is actually a healthcare provider. We identify symptoms, treat sickness, and so on.”
Goth finished his drink in a single gulp, savoring the burn in his throat. He started to get the feeling this was going to be a long meeting.
“And that was the moment I knew he understood.” Desler chuckled and poured herself a second drink before offering the bottle to Goth, who nodded. “Made him see the work from a different angle. He’ll go far, I think.” Desler smiled at Goth. “But a useful approach, don’t you think?”
Goth narrowed his eyes and cradled his refilled glass. “And you are telling me all this because . . . ?”
“Because service comes in many forms, Halland. I work for the ISB. You are commander of the Royal Guard. I am part of COMPNOR. You have shown your own loyalty in your own way. We are two cogs in different parts of the same machine.”
Goth frowned and checked the chronometer on his wrist. Despite the hospitality, Desler’s manner was starting to grow tiresome.
She noticed what he was doing and jutted her chin at him. “Got somewhere to be, Colonel?”
“My time is limited,” he said, “and I need to report for duty at—”
“That’s just it,” Desler interrupted, gesturing with her glass in the air. “Duty. We both have a duty, and we both have orders. And in the end, does it really matter where those orders come from?” She paused. “We are a dying breed, you know that? We are the last generation to serve the old order, the first generation to serve the new. We live in remarkable times, Halland. Remarkable times.”
“Long may they continue,” said Goth. “But I assume you didn’t just order me to come here for a drink?”
Desler laughed. “Oh, come now, relax! You didn’t get to where you are today without a certain level of dedication. You’re a hard worker. You’ve earned this! Enjoy the moment, Halland. These don’t come often in our line of work, do they?”
Goth shook his head. Was this really how COMPNOR recruited new members? He had questions, a million in fact, but he hadn’t been lying about reporting for duty. And right now he was starting to regret those two drinks.
“Thank you,” he said, placing his glass on the desk. “But I do have to report for duty. Perhaps we can continue this conversation at another time?”
As he stood, Desler reached forward and grabbed Goth by the wrist. The woman’s grip was like durasteel, her skin as cold as the light in her eyes.
“We want you to watch him.”
Goth blinked. “Who?” He pulled his hand away.
Desler stared at Goth, her eyes hard. “By ‘we’ I mean the Emperor, and by ‘him’ I mean Vader.”
Goth’s breath caught in his throat.
Vader. Lord Vader?
It was the very last name he had expected to hear—like so many things, another newcomer, a looming presence at the Emperor’s side, a nightmare in black. Rank, position, function—identity—all unknown.
He lowered himself back into his chair. “Lord Vader? Do you know who he is?”
“That’s the very point,” said Desler. “He’s many things. The Emperor’s enforcer, his right hand, his confidant, maybe his bodyguard. But you see, it’s a question of . . . loyalty, shall we say. Vader has access, and with such access comes risk. It is that risk that the ISB is interested in assessing.”
“You just said the Emperor was the one interested.”
“Oh, he is. Make no mistake, these orders come directly from the throne. But the ISB is very concerned with loyalty as well. Speaking of access, you will have a unique opportunity.”
Copyright © 2025 by Adam Christopher. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
