Star Wars Chronicles of the Old Republic: The Path of Revan

Chapter 4: Neo-Crusaders

The stench of sweat and blood hung in the stale air as the Republic Lieutenant woke up. Feeling a burning on his wrists and ankles, he looked down to see himself bound tightly by thick ropes on a cold, metal chair. His skin was raw and bloody where the bindings had rubbed the flesh.
Controlling his rapid breathing, the Lieutenant's instincts kicked in to stay calm. He looked around himself, noting the grimy and bronze metal walls - caked in dirt and discoloured by time. Next to him was bound another soldier. 'Rinn', the Lieutenant reminded himself. Rinn was a fellow soldier in the platoon he commanded, though he struggled to remember any interactions the two had shared past a couple of call-outs and small-talk. Rinn was unconscious, and despite the Lieutenant's hushed efforts to wake him, stayed that way. Blood had run down the side of his head and dried. Judging by the wounds, the two of them had been there for a little while. 'A day at most' the man thought.
The last thing he could remember was watching a Mandalorian army charge on their position on the planet Flashpoint, where the Republic was supposed to stop the enemy from continuing through the outer rim. Lasers, clouds of fire and enemy spacecraft had covered the skies as armoured warriors charged their defences. Somehow, the Lieutenant must have been knocked out cold - and now here he was, bound up and defeated.

Heavy footsteps preceded the entrance of two Mandalorians, who stood waiting by the doorway which slid open. Though their faces were hidden behind their masks, the Lieutenant could sense the inhuman contempt radiating from their stiff postures. One of the warriors wore typical blue armour - with their helmet curving to form shoulder plates that seamlessly blended in with the breastplate. The other, clearly a woman, wore a more unique and unconventional design, the man thought, that clashed with the more uniformly blue and gold aesthetic of the army. Her armour was silver with accents of red. Her mask did not bear the same visor, but rather a black strip through which she could see, and red markings pointed down toward the chin.
"Your people fought well, Lieutenant." A cold voice rang out from the corridor behind the open door. "But your failures have rendered your life forfeit, and the burden is on me to decide whether your life ends here or not." The unmistakable figure of Field Marshal Cassus Fett appeared from the shadows, staring the bound man down from behind his T-shaped visor. "So my advice is this: Comply and live." The Marshal pulled a small vibro-blade dagger from his belt and lifted it to his visor, eyeing the energetic pulse of the weapon. "Wake him up." He lazily gestured to Rinn. The two Mandalorian warriors grabbed the man and roughly shook him before one smacked him across the face with a heavy thud. Rinn gasped, his eyes snapping open.
"Wha- where am I? I-" he slowly registered the warriors standing above him with dread, and then finally his eyes settled on Marsal Fett. "What do you want with me?"
"Simple." He calmly responded. "Tell me where your Republic soldiers are fleeing to, or I will slit your throat."
Rinn's face turned white as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly in shock. No sound was able to come from his quivering lips.
"We-we don't know where they are!" The Lieutenant stammered, he was lying - of course - and his mind was racing. Enough men had died on his watch today, and he would not let the Mandalorians take another.
"Quiet, Lieutenant." Fett snarled. "I will get to you next. Let us hope you reconsider your answer before then."
Rinn began to whimper.
"Because of your people's bravery, I will allow you five seconds to tell me, soldier. Five."
Rinn, tears now forming as his entire body shook with fear, turned to look at the Lieutenant. "Please." He begged.
"Four."
The Lieutenant felt his stomach drop as he realised his soldier was asking permission to reveal the information. Even facing death, his army was loyal. The Lieutenant opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.
"Three."
'I can't do this. I can't let him sell them out.'
"Two."
'But it's not worth his life. It's not worth losing one more soldier.'
"One."
'I'm so sorry.'
Without a word, Fett grabbed Rinn's hair, yanked his head back, and drove the dagger across the man's neck. The movement was precise and lightning-fast, and he did not flinch as arterial spray splashed his golden armour.
The Lieutenant gasped and began to shake, closing his eyes as he heard Rinn die. It was slow and sickening. The man gasped for air as his lungs filled with blood, and eventually his tense arms relaxed and hung from his sides.
Fett's eyes stayed on the Lieutenant as the soldier died. He seemed to draw strength from the fear.
"How many men have you let die today?" He taunted, kneeling down to reach the man's level. "Tell me where your forces are hiding, and maybe you'll get to be the one to tell his family he's gone."
The Lieutenant looked into Fett's eyes. His face was white with hatred, but his mind was already made.