Ember/Cherry Commission
(Ember POV)
The artificial lighting of the space station corridor flickered overhead as Ember made her way toward Section D-7. Her boots echoed against the metal grating, each step bringing her closer to a classroom she'd been waiting the past day to enter. Slicing 101. The words on her datapad glowed with promise.
She tugged at the collar of her standard-issue uniform, a sleek dark gray jumpsuit with reinforced shoulders and a diagonal strap across the chest. The fabric was stiff, unbroken-in, bearing the faint insignia of the academy on her left breast pocket. It felt official.
The door to classroom D-7 hissed open as she approached, revealing a rectangular space bathed in cool blue overhead lighting. Rows of curved desks faced a large holographic display screen at the front, currently dark. The room hummed with the low chatter of students already seated, their voices mixing with the ambient thrum of the station's life support systems.
Ember paused in the doorway scanning the assembled students. Mostly humans she'd expected that. But there were others too. Two Sith purebloods sat near the back, their crimson skin stark against the muted tones of their uniforms, facial tendrils swaying slightly as they conversed in hushed tones. A Twi'lek with green skin occupied a seat near the middle, her lekku draped gracefully over her shoulders as she typed something into a datapad. A Mirialan sat alone by the window viewport, the tattoos on his face catching the light as he gazed out at the stars beyond.
She found an empty seat three rows from the front, slightly to the left—close enough to see everything clearly, but not so close as to draw unwanted attention. Sliding into the chair, Ember carefully set her pack on the desk and began unpacking her equipment.
First came her hacking deck, a compact portable unit that wasn't top-of-the-line, but it was hers. She found it in her room along with the clothes when she woke up after arriving here. The device was roughly the size of two stacked datapads, its matte black casing showing subtle wear at the corners. She'd already customized it with a modified array. The moment she placed it on the desk, it automatically synced with the classroom's network, displaying a soft amber standby light.
Next, she pulled out a small physical notebook and as it left her bag she noticed some of the other students glance her way. Most people used datapads exclusively, but Ember had always been a tactile learner. There was something about the act of physically writing that helped concepts stick in her mind. She placed it beside her hacking deck, followed by a stylus pen for annotations and a yellow highlighter for marking key information.
Her desk setup complete, Ember settled into her seat and let her gaze drift across the room again. A human male to her right was adjusting his own slicing rig—a more expensive model with built-in holographic projectors. He caught her looking and gave her a competitive smirk. She didn't return it.
The door hissed open again, and the ambient chatter died almost instantly.
A tall, lean figure strode into the room with the confident gait of someone who knew their craft inside and out. The instructor was human, appearing to be in his late forties, with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of sharp, intelligent eyes that seemed to catalogue every detail. He wore a more formal version of their uniforms charcoal gray with silver piping along the seams and several small pins on his collar that Ember didn't recognize yet.
"Settle in" he said, his voice carrying easily across the room without being particularly loud. "I'm Instructor Korvus Dane, and this is Slicing 101." He reached the front of the room and set down his own equipment revealing a sleek datapad and a small control stylus. "Some of you are here because you think slicing is glamorous. You've heard stories about master slicers pulling down thousands of credits for a single job, or toppling governments with nothing but a terminal and some clever code."
He paused, his gaze sweeping the room.
"Those stories are true. But they're rare. What you're going to learn in this course is the the basics that every competent slicer needs to understand before they can even think about tackling secure systems." He tapped his stylus against the podium. "And trust me, if you don't master the basics, you'll either end up dead, imprisoned, or worse hired by some cheap crime syndicate to crack security codes on storage lockers."
A nervous ripple of laughter moved through the classroom.
"Now then." Instructor Dane clicked his stylus, and the massive screen behind him flickered to life. "Let's talk about the three most common system architectures you'll encounter in your career. Understanding these architectures isn't just about knowing how to break in. It's about understanding the philosophy behind their design, their strengths, their weaknesses, and what that tells you about the people who built them."
The screen resolved into three distinct sections, each displaying a different device in rotating holographic detail.
"On your left" Dane continued, gesturing with his stylus, "we have a standard Republic security node. Center, a Sith Imperial encryption terminal. And on your right, an Aquatic bioorganic interface system, most commonly found in Mon Calamari installations."
Ember immediately opened her notebook and began sketching. Her hand moved quickly, blocking out the basic shapes of each device. The Republic node was angular and modular, its casing painted in the familiar white and bronze of Republic colors. The Sith terminal was sleeker, more aggressive in design, with sharp lines and dark metallic plating accented with red illumination strips. The Aquatic system was unlike anything she'd seen before organic curves, translucent sections that seemed to pulse with bioluminescent light, and interface ports that looked more like living tissue than technology.
"These three architectures represent fundamentally different approaches to information security" Dane said, beginning to pace slowly across the front of the room. "The Republic and Sith systems, despite their ideological differences, share common technological roots. They're both descendants of the same foundational computer science that emerged from human and near-human civilizations thousands of years ago."
He clicked his stylus again, and the Republic and Sith devices enlarged, rotating to show their internal components.
"Look closely. Both systems use crystalline memory cores, both employ similar encryption protocols at the base level, and both operate on the same fundamental principles of digital logic. But and this is crucial they prioritize different aspects of security."
Ember scribbled notes rapidly, her handwriting small and efficient to conserve space.
Rep. & Sith = common tech roots
Both: crystalline cores, similar base protocols
Different security priorities
"Republic systems" Dane continued, highlighting the device on the left, "emphasize redundancy and fail-safes. They're designed with the assumption that authorized users will occasionally make mistakes, so there are multiple authentication checkpoints, but also recovery options. The Republic values access and efficiency and they want their military and government officials to be able to work quickly, which means streamlined interfaces and predictable security layers."
He moved to the center display.
"Sith systems, by contrast, are paranoid by design. Every layer is intended to hurt you if you're not supposed to be there. Intrusion countermeasures, self-wiping protocols, trap algorithms that will fry your deck if you trigger them wrong. The Sith Empire assumes that threats are everywhere—which, to be fair, they usually are. Their systems are aggressively defended, but this also makes them brittle. Over-security creates weaknesses of its own."
Ember added to her notes, drawing small icons next to each point:
Republic: redundancy, fail-safes, user-friendly
Emphasizes access & efficiency
Predictable layers = easier to map
Sith: paranoid, aggressive defenses
Countermeasures, traps, self-destruct
Over-security = potential brittleness
The Mirialan near the window raised his hand. "So which one is easier to slice?"
Dane smiled slightly. "That depends entirely on your approach and skill level. Republic systems are more forgiving if you make a mistake, but they also log everything, so you leave a trail. Sith systems will kill your deck if you mess up but if you're good enough to avoid the traps, you can move faster because they assume that anyone who got past the defenses is supposed to be there."
He let that sink in for a moment before clicking his stylus again.
The holographic display shifted focus, zooming in on the third device the Aquatic bioorganic interface system. The image enlarged until it dominated the screen, revealing details that made Ember lean forward in her seat.
"Now, this" Dane said, and there was a note of genuine fascination in his voice, "is where things get interesting."
The device was beautiful in an alien way. Its outer shell appeared to be composed of a semi-translucent material almost like coral or pearls that caught and refracted light into subtle rainbow patterns. Beneath the shell, Ember could see what looked like organic tissue, networked filaments that pulsed with bioluminescent patterns. The interface ports were circular openings ringed with what appeared to be living material, and the control surfaces seemed to respond to touch by rippling like water.
"Mon Calamari and by extension, most Aquatic species approach technology from an entirely different philosophical framework than terrestrial civilizations" Dane explained. "Where we separate the organic from the mechanical, treating them as distinct categories, Aquatic cultures see them as parts of a continuum."
He highlighted a section of the device, and the image expanded to show the internal structure in cross-section.
"What you're looking at is a hybrid bioorganic computer system. The processing substrate isn't crystalline or metallic it's a cultivated neural network, a living organism bred and trained to perform computational tasks. The interface ports use electro-sensitive tissues that respond to neural signals, allowing Mon Calamari users to interact with the system almost telepathically."
Her pen flew across her notebook. She abandoned pure text and started sketching the device in more detail, trying to capture the way the bioluminescent patterns seemed to flow through the tissue networks. Next to her drawing, she jotted notes:
Aquatic systems
Philosophy: organic/mechanical
Processing = cultivated networks
Living organism doing computation
Interface: Responds to neural signals
"These systems evolved on planets that are almost entirely ocean" Dane continued. "Traditional electronics don't fare well underwater. Corrosion, pressure differentials, the difficulty of maintaining sealed systems in a marine environment, all of these factors pushed scientists toward biological solutions."
The image shifted, showing what looked like an entire facility built from similar bioorganic technology, massive structures that resembled coral reefs more than buildings.
"Aquatic systems are designed to be self-repairing, adaptive, and resilient in ways that mechanical systems simply aren't. Damage a conventional computer terminal, and it stops working until someone fixes it. Damage an Aquatic interface, and it begins regenerating immediately, often routing functions through redundant pathways while it heals."
One of the Sith spoke up, her voice carrying an edge of skepticism. "If they're so advanced, why don't we all use this technology?"
"Excellent question" Dane replied. "Several reasons. First, these systems are species-specific in ways that conventional technology isn't. The neural interface is optimized for aquatic physiology. A human can use one, but it's like operating a terminal with heavy gloves on awkward and imprecise. Second, they're slow to manufacture. You can't just build these systems in a factory; you have to grow them, which takes time. And third " he paused significantly "they're incredibly difficult to slice."
That got everyone's attention.
"Conventional slicing techniques don't work on bioorganic systems" Dane explained. "You can't inject code into something that doesn't run on code in the traditional sense. You can't exploit buffer overflows or bypass authentication when the system recognizes authorized users by their unique neural signatures. Slicing an Aquatic system requires an entirely different skill set one that combines conventional technical knowledge with a deep understanding of bio-electrical systems and even some xenopsychology."
I highlighted that section of notes in yellow, adding stars in the margin.
"The good news" Dane continued, "is that Aquatic systems are relatively rare outside of Mon Calamari space and a few other water-dominated worlds. You probably won't encounter many in your career unless you specifically seek them out. The bad news is that when you do encounter one, you'll need to completely reframe how you think about slicing."
He zoomed the image back out to show all three systems side-by-side again.
"Over the course of this semester, we'll be diving deep into each of these architectures. You'll learn to identify them on sight, understand their security paradigms, and develop strategies for penetrating them. By the end of this course, you should be capable of slicing low-to-mid level security systems in all three categories."
Dane clicked off the holographic display, and the room lights brightened slightly.
"For your first assignment, I want you to research one of these three architectures in more depth. Choose the one that interests you most, and prepare a five-minute presentation on a specific security vulnerability unique to that system type. We'll begin presentations next week."
The class stirred as students began discussing among themselves. Ember sat quietly for a moment, staring down at her notebook. Her sketches and notes covered two full pages now the Republic node with its modular, boxy design; the aggressive, blade-like Sith terminal; and dominating the second page, her detailed rendering of the Aquatic systems.
She carefully added one final note at the bottom of her sketch of the Aquatic interface:
Research focus: neural signature authentication
How do they store/verify biological identities?
Potential exploit: mimicry or signal injection?
Ember tapped her pen against the notebook, trying to plan her research approach. The conversations around her faded into white noise as her mind worked through the problem. This was what she loved about slicing it was like solving an infinite puzzle where every system had its own unique lock, its own particular weakness waiting to be discovered.
"Alright, settle down" Instructor Dane's voice cut through the chatter. The classroom noise dropped immediately. He walked back to his podium, his sharp eyes scanning the assembled students with the air of someone who'd already catalogued each of their strengths and weaknesses.
"Good discussions. I can see some of you are already engaging with the material. Now, let's move into our first practical lesson. For the remainder of today's class, we're going to focus exclusively on Republic system architecture. It's the most common system you'll encounter, and frankly, the best foundation for understanding the others."
He clicked his stylus, and the holographic display reactivated, showing only the Republic security node now. It rotated slowly, transparent layers peeling away to reveal the internal structure circuit boards, crystalline memory cores, power routing systems, and the nested shells of security protocols visualized as glowing geometric patterns.
"Republic systems are built on a principle called 'layered authentication'" Dane began, using his stylus to highlight different sections of the display. "Each layer serves as both a checkpoint and a redundancy. If one layer fails, the others compensate. This makes them remarkably resilient against system failures and hardware damage."
Ember opened to a fresh page in her notebook, titling it [Republic Systems]
"But resilience comes with a cost." Dane continued. "Each layer creates communication overhead. Data has to pass through multiple checkpoints, which means delays. More importantly for our purposes, it means predictable patterns. Watch."
He triggered an animation, and a simulated data packet moved through the Republic node, lighting up pathways as it passed through each security layer. The pattern was methodical, almost rhythmic.
"See that? Every authorized access follows the same route through the system. First through the authentication layer, then verification, then permission checking, then logging, and finally access. It's efficient, it's standardized, and it's—"
"Exploitable" the human male next to Ember finished.
"Exactly." Dane nodded approvingly. "If you know the route, you can map it. If you can map it, you can find where the layers overlap, where they leave gaps and where the error handling might be looser than it should be. Republic systems are designed for honest mistakes and quick recovery which means they're often too forgiving for their own good."
He brought up another display, this one showing lines of code scrolling past in Basic the common language used across most Republic systems.
"Here's a typical authentication subroutine from a mid-level Republic security terminal. Notice anything interesting?"
Ember studied the code, her eyes tracking the logical flow. There was a conditional statement that checked user credentials but had a fallback for system administrators. And the fallback required only local terminal access and a timestamp match, no additional verification.
Several hands went up around the room. Dane pointed to the Twi'lek student.
"The admin fallback doesn't require secondary authentication, she said. "If you can spoof a timestamp and have physical access, you can bypass the main security check."
"Correct. Five points to..." Dane checked his roster. "Mira'syn. Now, this is a deliberate design choice, not an oversight. Republic systems assume that if you have physical access to a terminal, you're probably authorized to be there. It's a reasonable assumption for bases, government buildings, and starships where physical security is already high. But what happens when that physical security is compromised?"
"Everything else falls apart" Ember said quietly, more to herself than to the class, but Dane heard her.
"Precisely. The entire security model depends on that initial assumption holding true. Break the physical security perimeter, and suddenly you have access points everywhere." He advanced to the next slide, showing a schematic of a Republic military outpost. "This is why infiltration specialists" he gave a meaningful look to several students including Ember, "pair so well with slicing skills. Get inside the perimeter, find an isolated terminal, and you can slice your way through the entire network."
The next twenty minutes moved quickly. Dane walked them through various Republic security protocols biometric scanners that could be fooled with DNA samples, retinal scanners with backup passcodes, encryption algorithms that were strong but standardized across the entire Republic military. Each system had its own quirks, its own particular weaknesses that could be exploited by someone who understood the underlying philosophy.
My hand started to cramp from writing, but I didn't stop. Every detail mattered. Every vulnerability was a tool she might need someday.
Dane demonstrated a live slice on a practice terminal he'd set up at the front of the room, talking through each step as his fingers flew across the interface. Watch, predict the system's response, identify the authentication pathway, inject a false credential packet, wait for the verification delay, exploit the error handling routine to escalate privileges.
The terminal chimed, and the security layers peeled away on the display, granting access.
"Seventeen seconds" Dane announced, logging out and resetting the terminal. "That's about average for someone with my experience on a mid-level Republic system. By the end of this semester, I expect most of you to be able to do the same in under thirty seconds."
A soft chime echoed through the classroom, the station's bell system marking the end of the period. Ember glanced at the chronometer display embedded in her desk. Already? The time had evaporated.
"That's all for today" Instructor Dane said, powering down the holographic display. "Remember your assignment pick one of the three architectures and find a specific vulnerability to present. Next class, we'll continue with Republic systems and start hands-on practice exercises. Dismissed."
The room filled with the sounds of students packing their equipment datapads powering down, bags zipping closed, conversations resuming. Ember carefully closed her notebook, checking that her highlighter hadn't bled through the pages. She powered down her hacking deck, the amber standby light fading to black, and tucked it back into her pack along with her other supplies.
As she stood, she joined the stream of students flowing toward the exit. The corridor outside was busier now, filled with cadets from other classes changing periods. The air hummed with dozens of conversations, the metallic clang of boots on grating, and the ever-present background thrum of the station's systems.
She pulled up her HUD with a blink and a subtle subvocal command, activating the interface that was projected directly onto her optic nerve via the small neural upgrade every cadet received during their first day. The display materialized in her field of vision, translucent and unobtrusive, showing several overlapping windows of information. With a thought and a slight gesture of her hand she reduced the HUD to a small configuration in the upper right corner of her vision. Just enough to see the map and her schedule without blocking her view of the corridor ahead.
The map appeared first, a three-dimensional wireframe of the station with her location marked as a pulsing blue dot. She mentally traced the route to her next class, watching the pathways light up in response to her eye movements as the HUD tracked where she was looking.
Then she pulled up her schedule with another subvocal command. The data overlaid itself next to the map, formatted in clean, military-standard text:
[IMPERIAL INTELLIGENCE ACADEMY]
Cadet: Ember [Last Name Classified]
Track: Imperial Agent - Cipher Division
Semester: 1, Year: 1
A-DAY SCHEDULE:
0600-0730 | Physical Combat Training | Gymnasium Complex D
0800-0920 | Slicing 101 | Classroom D-7
0930-1050 | Galactic Geography & Political Intelligence | Classroom C-12
1100-1220 | FREE PERIOD | --
1230-1400 | LUNCH ROTATION | Mess Hall
1410-1530 | Weapons Proficiency: Blaster Rifles | Range 3
1540-1700 | Infiltration Tactics | Simulation Chamber 5
B-DAY SCHEDULE:
0600-0730 | Physical Conditioning & Endurance | Gymnasium Complex A
0800-0920 | Xenopsychology & Behavioral Analysis | Classroom B-9
0930-1050 | Cryptography & Code Breaking | Classroom D-4
1100-1220 | Advanced Combat: Close Quarters | Training Room 7
1230-1400 | LUNCH ROTATION | Mess Hall
1410-1530 | FREE PERIOD | --
1540-1700 | Intelligence Analysis & Report Writing | Classroom C-8
Today was an A-Day, which meant her next class was Galactic Geography & Political Intelligence in Classroom C-12. Ember checked the map again, calculating the route. C-Block was in the academic wing, two levels up and across the main concourse. About an eight-minute walk if she kept a steady pace and didn't get caught behind any groups of slower-moving cadets.
She set off, merging into the flow of foot traffic heading toward the central lift banks. The HUD helpfully highlighted her route in soft blue, the map updating in real-time as she moved through the corridors. Other cadets' faces were marked with small name tags when her gaze lingered on them—the implant's facial recognition software cross-referencing with the academy database—but she dismissed most of the notifications with a thought. Too much information was cluttering her vision.
The lift arrived quickly, and Ember squeezed in with a dozen other students. The doors closed, and the lift began its smooth ascent. Someone was complaining about their Sith History instructor. Someone else was laughing about a failed training exercise. Ember tuned them out, her mind still half-focused on the Aquatic systems from class.
Neural signature authentication. The system recognized users by their unique bio-electrical patterns. But those patterns had to be stored somewhere, in some format the biological processors could compare against. Every storage method had vulnerabilities. Every comparison algorithm had edge cases.
The lift chimed, and the doors opened onto Level 5. Ember stepped out into a corridor lined with windows looking out into space. The academy station orbited a yellow star, and currently, the view showed nothing but endless black punctuated by distant points of light. Beautiful and quiet in equal measure.
She followed the blue pathway on her HUD, turning left at an intersection marked with directional signage in both Basic and High Galactic. The academic wing was quieter than the training sections better soundproofing, maybe, or just fewer students shouting combat commands.
Classroom C-12 appeared ahead, its door marked with a holographic placard that read: GALACTIC GEOGRAPHY & POLITICAL INTELLIGENCE - INSTRUCTOR VESISS TANNOR - IN SESSION AT 0930
Ember checked three minutes early. Good. She preferred not to rush.
The door was already open, and she could see inside another amphitheater-style classroom, this one larger than the slicing lab, with tiered seating arranged in a semicircle around a central holographic projector currently displaying a slowly rotating model of the galaxy.
The galaxy wheeled silently in the projection before her, waiting to be learned.
Ember settled deeper into her seat, adjusting her notebook to a comfortable angle. Around her, more students filtered in—a mix of species and backgrounds, all drawn here to understand the galaxy's political makeup. The holographic map dominated the center of the room, slowly rotating to show different perspectives of the spiral galaxy. The color coding was clear even from a distance: blue for Republic space, red for the Sith Empire, and scattered patches of other colors representing neutral zones, contested territories, and independent factions.
A door at the side of the classroom hissed open, and conversation died immediately.
The woman who entered carried herself with the crisp efficiency of someone who'd spent years navigating both physical and political battlefields. She appeared human, somewhere in her mid-fifties, with steel-gray hair pulled back in a severe bun and sharp brown eyes that seemed to calculate trajectories and power dynamics with every glance. Her uniform was instructor-grade Imperial Intelligence gray, adorned with several service ribbons that Ember didn't yet recognize. A thin scar ran from her left temple down to her cheekbone—not hidden, but worn like a credential.
"Attention" she said, her voice carrying the kind of authority that didn't need volume. She walked to the podium with measured steps, setting down a datapad and stylus. "I am Professor Vesiss Tannor. This is Galactic Geography and Political Intelligence, course designation Alpha-three-seven. If you're in the wrong classroom, leave now."
No one moved.
"Good." Professor Tannor's lips twitched in what might have been approval. "Then let's establish something immediately: this is not a passive history course where you memorize planet names and their exports. This is intelligence analysis. You're learning to read a map the way an operative reads it understanding not just where things are, but why they're there, who controls them, who wants to control them, and how that affects Imperial interests."
She clicked her stylus, and the galactic map expanded, filling the entire holographic display sphere. The galaxy's spiral arms became more defined, and the color coding intensified.
"The galaxy" Tannor began, her voice taking on a lecturing cadence, "is not now, nor has it ever been, a unified political entity despite what the Republic's propaganda would have you believe. What you're looking at is roughly over three billion habitable systems spread across one hundred twenty thousand light-years of space. Of those, perhaps five million have significant populations or strategic value. Of those five million, both the Republic and the Empire combined control... what would you estimate?"
Someone in the front row raised his hand. "Two million systems, Professor?"
"Optimistic. Try again."
"One million?" a human female called out.
"Worse. The actual number fluctuates, but the combined controlled territories of the Republic and Empire represent approximately three hundred and twelve million, roughly twenty-four percent of strategic space." Tannor let that sink in. "The other seventy-six percent? Corporate holdings, independent governments, criminal cartels, unaligned worlds, and territories too remote or dangerous to effectively control, but who listen to one of the galactic powers."
She zoomed the map inward, focusing on the galactic core. The bright cluster of stars at the center glowed with an intense blue.
"The Core Worlds. Coruscant, Corellia, Alderaan, and approximately thirty other heavily industrialized, densely populated systems. This is the heart of the Republic home to perhaps sixty percent of its population and seventy percent of its industrial capacity. Notice something about the Core?"
"There's no red" Ember said, and Tannor's sharp eyes found her immediately.
"Correct. Name?"
"Ember, ma'am."
"Cadet Ember notes correctly: there is minimal Imperial presence in the Core. Why do you think that is, Cadet Ember?"
Ember considered the question. "Distance? The Empire's power base is in different regions?"
"Partially correct. The Core is the Republic's stronghold they've held it for twenty-five thousand years. Attempting to take Core Worlds would be like stabbing into the heart of a fortress. Costly, difficult, and strategically unnecessary when there's an entire galaxy to fight over." Tannor's stylus traced outward. "So instead, we focus on the regions where power is more... fluid."
The map expanded outward in rings. The Colonies, the Inner Rim, the Expansion Region, and finally, the Mid Rim each band showing increasing amounts of red mixed with the blue.
"The Mid Rim" Tannor continued, highlighting that section, "is where the Cold War is primarily fought. Worlds like Balmorra, Taris, and Alderaan have changed hands multiple times. The Republic holds the majority, but we've secured key strategic systems. This is contested space—the borderlands where both powers push against each other."
A Sith pureblood raised her hand. "What about the Outer Rim, Professor?"
Tannor's expression shifted something that might have been a smile if it weren't so cold. "An excellent question. Let's examine the Outer Rim in detail."
The map zoomed outward dramatically, and the orderly color patterns of the inner galaxy gave way to chaos. The Outer Rim was a patchwork blue sectors scattered among red ones, with huge swaths of purple, green, yellow, orange, and gray representing dozens of different factions and allegiances.
"The Outer Rim Territories" Tannor said, her stylus sweeping across the massive region, "comprise the largest geographical area of the galaxy. It's approximately forty percent of galactic space by volume, but holds only fifteen percent of the total population. It's also the galaxy's perpetual problem child."
That got a few chuckles from the class.
"I'm serious" Tannor continued, though her lips twitched slightly. "The Outer Rim has been the source of more conflicts, insurgencies, pirate operations, and political headaches than every other region combined. Why? Because it's too big to effectively control, too poor to be worth the full investment required, and too strategically important to ignore."
She clicked again, and specific sectors of the Outer Rim lit up in different colors dozens of them.
"Now, here's a question that will be on your exam." Tannor's gaze swept the room. "Who controls the Outer Rim?"
Hands shot up immediately. Tannor pointed to a human male.
"The Republic and Empire both have territories there, Professor."
"True. But that's not what I asked. I asked who controls it."
Another student tried. "Independent governments?"
"Also present, but still not the answer I'm looking for."
Silence echoed out in the room as no one else seemed to have an answer.
'No one controls the Outer Rim because no one can control the Outer Rim. Not completely."
She began walking as she spoke, her stylus gesturing to different regions of the map.
"The Republic makes claims to hundreds of systems out here. The Empire does the same. But 'claiming' a system and 'controlling' it are very different things. In the Core, if the Republic says 'this is our territory,' they can enforce that claim with military might, political pressure, and economic sanctions. Out here?" She tapped a sector on the map. "You might have a Republic garrison on one planet in a system while pirates operate from the moons. You might have an Imperial governor officially administering a sector while Hutt crime lords actually run the economy."
She zoomed in on a particular region, and it lit up in a sickly green color.
"Speaking of which..Hutt Space."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop by several degrees. Professor Tannor's expression had shifted from clinical to something approaching disgust.
"Hutt Space is perhaps the single greatest example of why the Outer Rim is a strategic nightmare. This region" she highlighted it, and the green spread across dozens of systems "has been under Hutt control for approximately fifteen thousand years. It's nominally neutral territory. Both the Republic and Empire maintain diplomatic relations with the Hutt Cartel. We use their space lanes, trade through their systems, and occasionally hire their mercenaries."
Her stylus struck the podium with a sharp crack.
"And every single person in this room needs to understand that the Hutts are not our allies. They are not trustworthy partners. They are a criminal organization with delusions of legitimacy, and they have proven time and again that they will sell out either side for profit."
I started writing furiously. This was clearly a subject Professor Tannor felt strongly about.
"The Hutts" Tannor continued, her voice hard, "built their power on slavery, extortion, spice, and murder. Their 'empire' was founded by exterminating species they found useless and enslaving those they found valuable. The fact that the Republic which claims to stand for freedom and democracy still maintains diplomatic relations with them is one of the more spectacular hypocrisies of galactic politics."
She clicked through several images: Hutt palace-fortresses, slave markets, and deteriorating industrial worlds strip-mined for resources.
"From an intelligence perspective, the Hutts are useful. They control key hyperspace routes. They have information networks that rival our own. They can provide deniable assets when we need them. But make no mistake" her eyes swept the room. "The moment it becomes profitable to betray the Empire, they will do so. Some of you will likely work with Hutt contacts during your careers. When you do, remember: every word they speak is calculated for maximum advantage, and loyalty means nothing to them beyond its monetary value."
She paused, seeming to collect herself, then continued in a more level tone.
"Hutt Space itself is technically independent. Their clan system governs it through a council structure that's essentially organized crime with bureaucracy. They claim neutrality in the war, but both sides know they're playing us against each other. They sell weapons to the Republic while leasing staging bases to the Empire. They provide intelligence to both sides sometimes the same intelligence, sometimes contradictory intelligence designed to provoke conflict that benefits them."
A Mirialan student raised his hand. "If they're that unreliable, why do we deal with them at all?"
"Because sometimes" Tannor said grimly, "the enemy of your enemy is a useful tool, even if they're planning to stab you in the back. And because outright war with the Hutts would be... costly. They're cowards in direct combat, but they have resources, mercenary armies, and enough economic leverage to make a war expensive. Both the Republic and Empire have decided it's more efficient to work with them or rather, around them than to try to eliminate them."
She zoomed back out to show the full Outer Rim again.
"But Hutt Space is just one example of the Outer Rim's complexity. Let's look at other territorial anomalies."
Over the next twenty minutes, Professor Tannor walked them through various Outer Rim factions: the Mandalorian sectors with their warrior culture and shifting allegiances; corporate holdings like the old Federation territories; independent systems that had managed to maintain sovereignty through military strength, strategic positioning, or sheer insignificance; and the massive swaths of space that were simply marked as "contested" or "unaligned."
"The Outer Rim is a patchwork because it's too expensive to hold" Tannor explained. "Every system you control requires garrison forces, administrators, infrastructure investment, and constant security operations against pirates, insurgents, and rival powers. The Republic learned this lesson thousands of years ago when they tried to expand too quickly and found themselves overextended. The Empire is learning it now."
She brought up a tactical overlay showing hyperspace routes.
"This is why hyperspace routes are so strategically critical. Control a major route like the Hydian Way, the Corellian Run, or the Perlemian Trade Route and you control trade, troop movements, and communication between entire sectors. Lose control of a route, and entire regions become isolated or dependent on your enemies for access."
Ember noted the routes carefully, marking key junction points where multiple lanes intersected.
"The Outer Rim is also home to some of the galaxy's strangest and most dangerous phenomena" Tannor continued, bringing up images of spatial anomalies. "Hyperspace disturbances, gravity wells from dense star clusters, regions where navicomputer calculations fail. This is why Wild Space and the Unknown Regions" she gestured to the gray areas beyond the Outer Rim "remain largely unexplored. It's not just distance. It's that hyperspace becomes increasingly unreliable the farther you go from established lanes."
A clock on the wall chimed softly a warning that class would end soon. Tannor seemed to register it but didn't stop.
"Let's discuss defensive strategy in the Outer Rim. Cadet" she pointed to the red skinned male "if you were ordered to secure a Outer Rim system for the Empire, what would be your primary challenges?"
"Pirates, ma'am?"
"More specific."
"Limited resources for garrison forces? Long supply lines?"
"Better. The Outer Rim's primary strategic problem is sustainment. Every world you hold requires a constant flow of supplies, reinforcements, and communication. Break that flow, and the world becomes vulnerable. This is why both the Republic and Empire focus on securing hyperspace routes first, then worlds second."
She brought up a simulation showing how controlling key junction worlds could cut off entire sectors from support.
"In intelligence operations, this manifests as mission planning. If you're running an operation deep in Outer Rim space say, three sectors away from your nearest Imperial base how long can you sustain yourself? What's your extraction plan if things go wrong? Can you resupply locally, or are you dependent on smuggled equipment from Imperial space?"
The simulation showed several operational scenarios some succeeding, others ending in disaster when supply lines were cut or local support collapsed.
"Remember: in the Outer Rim, you're always operating in hostile or neutral territory. Even 'allied' worlds may not provide support if it risks their relationship with other powers. Self-sufficiency and adaptability are critical skills."
Tannor walked back to the podium, surveying her students with that calculating gaze.
"Your assignment for next class: choose one Outer Rim sector and prepare a five-minute intelligence briefing. I want strategic analysis who controls it officially, who controls it actually, what resources it has, what makes it strategically valuable, and what threats an Imperial operative would face working there. Sources must be cited from the academy database. No speculation, only verified intelligence."
The clock chimed again full tone this time. End of class period.
"Dismissed" Tannor said crisply.
Around Ember, students immediately began closing their datapads and notebooks, the ambient noise level rising as conversations resumed, closing her notebook carefully, making sure the pages lay flat before tucking it into her pack. Her stylus and highlighter went into a side pocket, everything organized and secure. As she stood, slinging her pack over her shoulder, she joined the stream of students flowing toward the exits.
The corridor outside was busy with the cross-traffic of period changes cadets heading to their next classes, instructors moving between sections, the occasional maintenance droid hovering past. The crowd moved with the practiced efficiency of people who'd learned to navigate confined spaces, everyone keeping to the right, faster traffic passing on the left.
Ember let herself be carried along with the flow, not fighting it, just moving. Around her, conversations bubbled someone complaining about a weapons proficiency exam, two Twi'leks discussing their slicing assignment, a human male loudly proclaiming that he could take anyone in hand-to-hand combat.
As the corridor opened into one of the main concourses a wider space with higher ceilings and viewports looking out into space the crowd began to disperse. Students peeled off in different directions, heading to various sections of the station. Training wings, academic blocks, residential areas, recreation facilities.
Ember spotted an empty bench positioned between two viewports and made her way toward it. The bench was standard station furniture molded durasteel with a thin cushion, bolted directly to the deck plating. She sat down, setting her pack beside her, and for the first time since waking up that morning, just... stopped.
The concourse continued to bustle around her, but sitting here, she was effectively invisible. Just another cadet taking a break between classes.
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her personal comlink—a small cylindrical device about the length of her palm, matte gray with a few discrete control buttons and a tiny holoprojector lens at one end. Every cadet had been issued one during orientation, pre-programmed with encrypted military-grade channels for academy use. But it also functioned as a standard civilian comlink for personal communications.
Ember pressed the activation stud, and the device hummed softly in her hand. A small holographic interface projected above it, displaying her contact list, message queue, and communication options. She scrolled through her contacts with a subtle finger gesture until she found the entry she wanted: Vex
[Hey. Made it through first morning of classes. Slicing 101 and Galactic Geography so far. Everything's going well. Station is impressive - way bigger than I expected. How are things on your end?]
She hit send, and minimized the comlink's interface but kept it active in standby mode it would alert her when Vex replied. She slipped it back into her pocket and pulled out her datapad instead. The screen activated at her touch and She navigated to the station's local network, bypassing the public information feeds and academic resources to access the student forums. This was apparenly the unofficial side of academy life at least from what the brochure said. Cadets sharing information, rumors, complaints, tips, and gossip that would never make it into official channels.
The main forum index loaded, showing dozens of active threads:
> General Discussion (847 active threads)
> Class-Specific Help (223 active threads)
> Equipment & Gear (156 active threads)
> Off-Topic / Social (1,034 active threads)
> Rumors & Unverified Intel (419 active threads)
That last category caught her attention. Rumors & Unverified Intel. She tapped it, and the forum expanded to show a scrolling list of thread titles:
"Anyone else hear explosions from Sector 7 last night?" "Instructor Dane used to be a field operative - confirmed or myth?" "New security protocols starting next week" "Strange ship docked at Bay 12 - anyone know what it is?"
Ember's eyes locked on that last one. Bay 12. That was where her transport had docked when she'd arrived three days ago.
She opened the thread.
Thread: Bloody ship docked at Bay 12 - anyone know what it is?
Started by: ShadowRunner_88
Posted: 2 days ago
Saw this weird ship in Bay 12 when I was coming back from the market sector. looked like a standard transport. Didnt seem like any modification work was done but they had techs hosing down the inside for blood. Anyone know who it belongs to or what it's doing here?
Reply by: VectorPrime_77
Probably just another early arrival. Lots of people show up in random ships. Not everyone can afford passage on the official transports.
Reply by: BlasterJock
Why do you care? It's none of your business what ship someone arrives in. Focus on your own training.
Reply by: ShadowRunner_88
@BlasterJock Chill out. Just curious. We're training to be Intelligence operatives - noticing things is literally our job.
Reply by: Cipher_Candidate
Fair point. Though if it's been here for a few days and no one's raised any alarms, it's probably fine. Station security would have flagged it if it was actually dangerous.
The thread continued for a few more posts, but nothing particularly useful. Just speculation and the usual forum bickering.
She closed the thread and navigated back to the forum index. No point worrying about it. Its not like any one else besides her survived the trip to the station but Still. The reminder that people were noticing things, cataloging details, was a good one. This was Intelligence training. Everyone here was learning to observe, analyze, and remember. She'd have to be more careful about what kind of attention she attracted.
Ember exited the forum entirely and cleared her browsing history out of habit. Then she closed the datapad and slipped it back into her pack, leaning back against the bench and looking out the viewport. Stars. Endless black punctuated by distant points of light. The space station's slow rotation meant the view was constantly changing sometimes showing nothing but void, other times revealing the sun they orbited, its surface roiling with solar activity.
Her comlink buzzed softly in her pocket. She pulled it out message from Vex.
[Glad to hear it! Knew you'd handle it fine. Things here are quiet - too quiet honestly. Miss having you around to get into trouble with. Station sounds massive though. Any interesting people yet or all boring military types?]
Ember smiled faintly and typed a response:
Mix of both. Lots of serious types, but some interesting instructors. One professor in particular seems sharp - former field operative, I think. Classes are accelerated since I arrived early.
She sent it, then added a second message:
Before Vex could reply, I checked the time on the datapad. 1105 hours. Her free period had just started she had over an hour before lunch rotation began at 1230.
Lunch.
Her stomach chose that moment to remind her that she'd skipped breakfast, too focused on getting to her first class. The standard morning ration bar she'd grabbed from her room's storage locker wasn't quite cutting it anymore.
An hour was plenty of time to figure out where the mess hall was and maybe grab something early. She'd seen it marked on the station map in her HUD, but that was different from actually navigating there.
Ember stood, shouldering her pack, and looked around the concourse. A few cadets were still milling about some heading purposefully somewhere, others clearly killing time between classes like she'd been doing.
She spotted a pair of human cadets both male, maybe a year or two older than her based on their bearing standing near one of the viewports, discussing something on a shared datapad.
Starting to walk up to them and making sure to keep her posture neutral and professional. "Excuse me."
They looked up. The taller one dark hair, sharp features gave her a quick once-over. "Yeah?"
"I'm looking for the mess hall" Ember said. "Well, actually, looking for good food. Someone mentioned there's a culinary training sector with better options than the standard cafeteria?"
The shorter cadet stocky build, brown eyes grinned. "You're not wrong. Standard mess hall food is..." He made a face. "Functional. Nutritious. Completely flavorless. But yeah, there's the Culinary Services Training Sector. They run a student-operated restaurant where cadets training in support services learn to cook. The food's way better."
"Where is it?" Ember asked.
"Opposite end of the station from here" the taller one said, gesturing vaguely behind him. "You're in the academic wing right now, yeah? You'll need to head back toward the main hub, take the primary concourse west that's the direction away from the docking bays and then down about three levels. Sector designation is... what was it, Kev?"
"FS-4," Kev supplied. "Food Services, Level 4. There's signage once you get to the right section. Just follow the smell of actual seasoning." He grinned again.
"Thanks" Ember said.
"No problem. Fair warning though it gets crowded during official lunch rotation. If you're going now, you'll beat the rush."
"Coolio" Ember gave them a brief nod and headed toward the corridor Kev had indicated.
The walk took her back through the academic wing, past the classroom where she'd just had Geography, and toward the central hub of the station. This part of the station was a massive cylindrical structure where multiple corridors converged a transit nexus with turbolifts, pedestrian bridges, and directional signage in both Basic and High Galactic.
She paused at a junction, checking the signs. PRIMARY CONCOURSE WEST - LEVELS 1-8. An arrow pointed to a wide corridor leading away from the hub. She followed it.
This section of the station felt different from the academic wing. Less sterile, more lived-in. The walls showed more wear, the lighting was slightly warmer, and there were actually decorations motivational posters about Imperial service, safety reminder signs, even a few pieces of what might generously be called art. Probably student projects.
She passed other cadets, a few civilian support staff in non-military jumpsuits, and a maintenance crew working on an access panel in the wall. The ambient noise was different too less echoing, more muffled by the sound-dampening materials in the walls.
After about five minutes of walking, Ember reached a bank of turbolifts. The directional sign next to them read: LEVELS 1-6 - RESIDENTIAL AND SUPPORT SERVICES.
She pressed the call button, and one of the lifts arrived almost immediately, doors hissing open. Inside, a man in instructor's uniform nodded to her as she stepped in.
"Level?" he asked, his hand already hovering over the controls.
"Four" Ember said.
He pressed the button, and the lift began its descent while he studied her briefly not hostile, just curious. "First year?"
"Yes, sir."
"Early arrival?"
"Yes, sir."
He nodded approvingly. "Smart. The advantage you're getting now will serve you well when the real pressure starts." The lift chimed, and the doors opened onto Level 4. "This is you. Good luck, cadet."
"Thank you, sir." Ember stepped out into another corridor, this one noticeably different from anything she'd seen so far.
The walls here were painted in warm colors rust orange and deep gold instead of the standard Imperial gray. The lighting was softer, more natural. And the smell
Kev had been right. The air carried the distinct aroma of actual cooking. Not the processed, reconstituted rations she'd expected, but real food. Roasted vegetables, seared proteins, baked bread. Her stomach growled audibly.
Signage directed her toward CULINARY SERVICES TRAINING SECTOR - FS-4 - STUDENT DINING FACILITY. She followed the signs, passing through a set of double doors into a large open space.
The dining facility was impressive. High ceilings, banks of windows (currently showing the same star field she'd seen from the concourse, but somehow more pleasant here), and rows of tables arranged in clusters rather than the regimented lines she'd expected from a military mess hall. The décor was simple but intentional—someone had actually thought about making this space comfortable.
On one side of the room, a long counter stretched the length of the wall, with serving stations visible behind it. Several cadets in different uniforms—white chef's jackets with Imperial insignia instead of the standard gray—moved efficiently behind the counter, preparing food and serving the handful of early arrivals already eating.
A digital menu board hung above the counter, displaying today's offerings:
CULINARY SERVICES TRAINING - TODAY'S MENU
Main Courses:
Nerf steak with roasted root vegetables Vegetable stir-fry over grain blend
Sides:
Garden salad Steamed greens Soup of the day (Bantha broth)
Beverages:
Caf (hot or iced) Juice selection Water Tea
Ember felt her mouth water. This was... significantly better than expected.
She approached the counter, where a female cadet with auburn hair tied back in a regulation bun smiled at her. "Welcome to Culinary Services. First time here?"
"Yes" I admitted.
"Great! So here's how it works: food is free for all active cadets it's covered by your academy fees. You just scan your ID chit at the terminal" she gestured to a small scanner on the counter "and then tell us what you'd like. We'll prepare it and bring it to your table. We're practicing full-service dining today, so just grab a seat anywhere and we'll serve you. Plus, the instructors evaluate us on service quality, so we're motivated to get it right. What can I get for you?"
Ember scanned her ID chit, the terminal beeping its acknowledgment, then studied the menu. "The nerf steak, please. With roasted vegetables. And a side salad. Hot caf to drink."
"Good choice. That'll be about ten minutes. Table number?" She gestured to the numbered placards on each table.
Ember glanced around and picked a table near one of the windows table 14. "Fourteen."
"Perfect. We'll bring it right out."
Ember made her way to the table, set her pack down on the adjacent chair, and sat facing the window. From here, she could see the curve of the station's hull and the infinite black beyond.
Around her, the dining facility was quiet but not empty. A few other cadets sat scattered throughout the room some eating alone while reviewing datapads, others in small groups talking quietly. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost civilian.
"Table fourteen?"
She looked up. A male cadet Zabrak, with the characteristic facial tattoos and small horns stood beside her table carrying a tray. He set it down in front of her with practiced precision: the nerf steak looked perfectly cooked, the vegetables still steaming, the salad fresh and crisp, and the caf was in an actual ceramic mug instead of a disposable container.
"Anything else I can get you?" he asked.
"No, this is perfect. Thank you."
He gave a slight bow and returned to the kitchen area.
She looked down at the meal and felt something unexpected: contentment. Maybe even a little happiness.
First day of classes, and here she was, eating real food in a comfortable space on an Imperial Intelligence training station, preparing for a career that would take her across the galaxy.
Things could be worse.
She picked up her fork and started eating, savoring the taste of actual seasoning. The nerf steak was perfectly cooked seared on the outside, tender on the inside, with a subtle herb rub that complemented rather than overwhelmed the meat. The vegetables were crisp, the salad fresh, and the caf was strong and hot.
Ember took a sip of the caf and let herself relax slightly, her shoulders dropping from their usual tension. The ceramic mug was warm against her palms, and she held it for a moment before setting it down to continue eating.
As she ate, she let her gaze wander around the dining facility, observing the other occupants while trying to appear as casual attention and not People-watching.
A human female sat three tables away, eating alone while reviewing something on her datapad. Her posture was rigid, shoulders tight, eyes moving quickly across the screen. Stressed about something. An upcoming exam, maybe, or a project deadline.
Two Twi'lek males occupied a table near the center of the room, their conversation animated but quiet enough that Ember couldn't make out the words. One gestured emphatically while the other nodded, taking notes on a datapad. Study partners, probably.
A Rodian sat by himself near the kitchen area, methodically working through his meal while—
Ember's attention sharpened.
While taking notes. Not on a datapad. Physical notes, written in a small pocket notebook that he kept partially concealed beside his tray. His eyes weren't focused on his food or his notes, though. They were scanning the room, cataloging faces, movements, interactions.
Surveillance practice.
Ember suppressed a smile. Of course. This was an Intelligence academy. Students would be practicing observation techniques, learning to gather information in public spaces without being obvious about it. She took another bite of her steak and continued her sweep of the room, this time looking specifically for other students who might be doing the same thing.
There—a man at a corner table, datapad angled so it looked like he was reading, but his eyes kept flicking up to observe the room.
This wasn't just a dining facility. It was a training ground.
And there
Ember's fork paused halfway to her mouth.
There was someone hidden in the bushes near the far wall. Not visible to normal sight the bushes and decorative plants were too thick, the shadows too deep. But in her Force sight, the person's presence was clear: a compact form crouched low, absolutely still, observing the room from concealment.
Ember filed that information away and continued eating, her expression neutral. No point in staring. If this was a test she would have no way of knowing. She took another sip of caf, using the movement to scan the ceiling casually. Trying to match what she could see through her force sight, the dining facility had high ceilings with exposed structural beams and—yes, there—ventilation grilles set into the walls at regular intervals. Standard climate control for a space this size.
One of the grilles caught her attention, more specifically the presence behind it.
Ember watched through her force sight as another student, she assumed, move past the grille paused, and seemed to look down into the dining facility for several seconds. The metal covering over the vent prevented any direct line of sight, but Ember could feel the attention focused on the room below.
Then the presence continued moving, crawling deeper into the ventilation system and disappearing from her awareness.
Ember set down her fork and rubbed her face with both hands, sighing deeply.
What kind of school did I walk into?