TheBridge

“Zev was captured two days ago,” Piett said in the clinical voice he used on the bridge with Ozzel. “ISB has him. As Captain of the Lady, I have been informed for obvious reasons. He is a known associate of Skywalker and Organa, and as such, they are keen to get information.”

The room felt suffocating.

Veers couldn’t breathe, and wanted to be sick at the same time.

It was true he and Zev had parted ways sharply and painfully over the Empire and the Rebellion his son had turned to. That had been five years ago. While Veers saw the flaws that Zev did, he felt he could do the most good from within.

Zevulon, glowing with the passion of youth, had disagreed firmly. The Empire and everything— everyone —-within it was corrupt past saving. He’d said some very excruciating things to the General. Things that still hurt Veers to think of.

But in this moment—-all he could see were large green eyes in the face of a little boy pleading with him to bring back his mother.

Firmus fought and snarled like a wild animal, but he could not buck off three of them. They bound him fast with leather cords and hauled him to his feet, keeping a firm grip on either side.

He felt marginal relief when Veers was dragged into his line of sight.

The General was still alive then.

He had also been bound with leather straps and they had added the indignity of a collar around his neck—no doubt enjoying what they saw as a reverse for the Roman in the hands of these Decleangli.

They laughed and joked in their lilting language. Then the man who was unmistakably their chief walked right up to Veers and spat in his face.

Firmus swore at him then, using his own language, and this earned him their focus.

“Oho,” the Chief said in the common tongue. “A traitor to the Island then. This will be all the more enjoyable.”

And with that he backhanded Piett.