Ca·sus bel·li: an act or situation justifying war.
Luca dragged at his cigarette. The stars blurred by outside the bridge of the Imperial frigate, air scrubbers whining away on full blast to clear the acrid smoke before it reached the nose of his commanding officer, and the grunt beside him had a bone to pick.
“C’mon Ashgate, why does Captain Thalcyon let /you/ smoke in here?”
The one eyed man grinned, indulging in a little schadenfreude. He flicked ash into his empty coffee cup.
“Cause I’m the best, Cadet. The kriffin’ best- and cause ol’ Thalcy can’t be assed to come up here to check what I’m doing. He’s snoring in his bunk as we speak, so can it and enjoy the ride.” There was a pause. “And that’s Ensign to you!”
Luca’s comrade simply grumbled and turned back to the scanner. Here in hyperspace there was nothing but time to kill, which gave a man’s mind room to wander. In truth there wasn’t much difference between running spice and running Republic blockades. One paid a hell of a lot better, the other made a difference. A tangible difference. Both required a fast ship, steady hand and the self absorbed bravado so common among pilots. Indeed, Luca had seen himself as a merchant of death even way back in the days of his criminal youth, pushing the Cartel’s heady drug to the masses. That much hadn’t changed, just the uniforms, faces, and victims. At least finding oneself at the business end of a turbolaser was a quick exit from this mortal coil when compared to the business end of a spice pipe. Merciful, even.
Today, despite the banter and endless cigarettes, he was preoccupied. It wasn’t the fight that lay ahead, it was one in the past. His anxious thoughts drifted to a conversation with his sister, on the ruined bridge just outside Veles. She’d turned away from him, cross, her wispy blonde hair caught in the wind as it rolled off the lake. It’d been years since they’d seen each other, and their reunion had only come to bitterness.
“Suzy. It’s not about you, hell, it’s not even about me. You remember Nar Shaddaa- how we had to scrape by. The way those slugs took everything Ma earned. The Jedi do nothing. The republic did nothing.” He’d paused to find the words. Tactful words. Words a girl just past her teens might understand. “When we crush them, we’ll take the fight to the Hutts. The galaxy will have order, by any means. At any cost.”
She never did understand. Not then, not now. But her naivety would not stand in his way. No one would. Nothing would. Not the Jedi, not the Cartel, not the force itself. The Captain’s bark shocked Luca from his reverie. His calculations were incorrect, clearly ol’ Thalcy had stopped snoring in that bunk of his quite some time ago.
“Ashgate! Put that damned thing out and prepare for EV or by the stars I will have you court martialed!”
In a flash Luca’s hands were back on the controls and his cigarette was sent careening into the adjacent Cadet’s lap. “Yes sir! Standby for EV, exiting hyperspace in T minus thirty seconds. Expect resistance, gentlemen.”
There was no pleasure in this work. Luca left that for the Sith. For him, there was only the mechanical routines of his practiced hands as they danced over the control console, the bright lights of thrusters and lasers flashing above some wretched, besieged world and the souls of men sent screaming into the vast, silent void of space. Such was war, and war was the price of order.
She’d never understand.