Star Wars: The Clone War Chronicles/ Chapter 9: Succession

20 BBY

Character: Clyde Burrell

General Williams could not recall a moment in his life when he had felt as much fear. Not even staring down General Grievous in above-atmosphere combat had he been so certain that his life was at its end. But here, bound and gagged, huddled whimpering in the corner of his own office, he was certain that his end had come. And to see it come at the hands of an ordinary man made it all that more chilling.

“You’re probably filling your britches with about six or seven types of crud now, am I right?” asked the menacing man, smiling. He reached down and brushed a gathering of hair away from General Williams’s left eye. “That’s fine by me. In fact, it’s expected.”

He spun away from the cowering general and continued to pace the room. “You’ve been holed up in this mansion ‘running things’ for what, three? Four crons, now?” He made air quotes as he belittled his captive.

Williams muttered something beneath his gag. “Oh, don’t answer, please. I’m being rhetorical. See, it’s my turn to talk now and all you need to do is listen. And General Williams?” He narrowed his eyes at the cowering commander in the corner. “You do need to listen.”

“I’ve seen your face a hundred times coming in and out of this base in that time. I’m willing to bet you don’t recall seeing mine even once. Am I right?” He smiled down at the general awaiting a response, though none came. “Good, you’re listening.”

“No, I don’t imagine you know me. ‘Troop Transport’ was my official job title, but Hell, it’s just you and me here, so let’s call it what it is.” He stopped in front of Williams and dropped down to look him in the eyes. “I was a bus driver. I drove your troops to slaughter and picked up the ones lucky enough to return with their lives. Sometimes they’d be carrying their own limbs with them; sometimes we’d leave them on some distant planet to rot away. I watched them return haunted, or not return at all. My personal favorite—“

Williams turned his face from his accuser but the man slapped him roughly and forced his head back to lock their eyes with a powerful hand pinched around his jaw.

“You look at me! My personal favorite was watching them die on the transport on the way back. On the way ‘home’. You sent those boys to die for your crusade so you could continue to sit in this fine palace and grow fat and powerful. You sent them out there, into the cold void of space, to fall by the thousands before blaster fire meant for you and that wrinkled old puss sitting on the Imperial Throne. And you made me drive.”

The angry man released the general’s chin brusquely and stood to pace once more. As he reached the far end of the desk, he bent slightly to pick up an item leaning against it.

“Well, I’m in the driver’s seat again, but this time I’m giving out the directions. You and the Emperor have made your enemies, I can’t deny that, but I won’t be ferrying men out there to die in front of them anymore. No, you’ve got yourself a fancy edifice to your blessed ‘Power’ right here, and I imagine that’s enough to bring them flocking this way. I plan to keep your troops here; to bring the fight to us, on our grounds, our terms. To keep my men, and they are MY men now, safe, and rid the galaxy of our enemies in an ethical and sustainable way. And my new friend here is going to help me do that.”

He lifted a baseball-bat shaped DarkSaber from behind General Willaims’s desk. He admired it as he held it aloft, lovingly running his eyes along its shaft and handle.

“Isn’t she a beauty? I named her, you know. The previous owner didn’t have a name for her. Doesn’t that seem a shame to you? How can you have reverence for something that doesn’t have a name? And you need reverence for your weapon, especially these days. We’re at war, dammit, and your weapon is the only thing standing between vanquishing your foes and dying for nothing.”

Williams began to sob quietly.

“Yeah, I named her ‘Blanche’. Seems fitting, no? Elegant, yet approachable. Familiar, yet uncommon. I know you’re wondering how I came to have such a unique and intimidating weapon, and I’m damn glad you asked, General. You see, a person can acquire something like this only by earning it. And you and I both know the only way you can earn something these days is through sweat or blood. And while you send out other good men to sweat and bleed for you, me… Well, I do it myself.”

The man ignited the weapon, which came to life in a dark hum of electricity and swirling blackness.

“I sweat, and I bled. And I made others sweat and bleed. And on one of your suicide runs I met a fellow who meant to make me dead, but fate smiled on me that day, and he’s no longer with us. When I came out of that scratch with my life and my new friend Blanche, here, well, that’s when I knew that the Force must want me to be something more than a bus driver. It wants me to be a leader. It wants me to save your men. Save them from the cycle of death that you and your cronies have ordered. Save them from you.”

The man walked slowly toward the general, his fingers stretching and tightening around the handle of his weapon.

“And that’s what I’m going to do. Allow me to introduce the new boss around here. The name is Clyde Burrell, and as your successor, I am officially relieving you of duty, General Williams. The Empire thanks you for your service, but I’ll take it from here.”

And with that, Clyde rose his weapon above his head and brought it down deliberately and violently on the skull of General Williams, who was no more.