Chapter 1.

Disclaimer: Disney and George Lucas own Star Wars. I don't. Thus, I don't make a cent off of this work. The only thing that is mine, is the plot and my original characters (OC). This goes for the rest of the chapters, too.

Imperial shuttle

Vera Wolff glanced at the data pad for the fifth time. Why in the world was she getting "promoted" to the Executor, again? She hadn't broken that many rules. Then again, she wasn't exactly a model officer. For instance, when her hair was not coiled into a tight bun, it nearly touched the floor (definitely not shoulder length). She defied many superiors . ( If not for their hare-brained ideas, why else would she defy them?) She painted her officer quarters a bright green. And other than punching a couple nosey officers in the face, she wasn't that bad. Right?

How ironic. She hasn't been shot by a superior yet. Instead they ship her off to Vader's ship to die. The only positive thing about this, is if she survives this, someone is definitely going to get a broken nose.

The shuttle lurched forward and landed on the landing pad. The doors slide open with a screech. Vera flinched. A weapons detector had been set up near the shuttle. She noticed that this was a common practice for transfers. It probably started after some rebels tried to board a star destroyer on a shuttle. Then again, who in their right mind would want to board Darth Vader's flagship?

She picked up the crate with her worldly possessions and walked through the metal detector. As expected, it gave off the loudest high -pitched wail as she stepped through. The men quickly checked the monitor.

"It is picking up something on your left arm. Can you please lift your sleeve. "

Vera did as she was told. However, the man seemed to realize that the glove she was wearing, also ran up her sleeve.

"Can you please remove your glove."

Vera sighed and removed the thick black glove. It revealed a metal prosthetic limb running from the tips of her fingers to her elbow. She could practically feel the man's shock.

"It's a prosthetic made of beskar," said Vera.

"We will need to remove it to check it for weapons. Can you please-"

Vera cut him off by clicking a lever and removing it herself. She then took it apart with such efficiency that it was apparently that she had done this plenty of times before. The man stared at the pieces for a moment. She then reassembled the prosthetic in less than a minute and reattached it to her arm. She did all of this with one hand.

"You are cleared," he concluded and handed her a flimsie.

Vera grabbed her crate and headed to her designated room. She could practically feel the stares of the people behind her.

Officer's Quarters. Level 66. Room 13

Vera sighed. Room do I always get the room that nobody wants? The superior will be here any minute to assign me a job. Might as well settle in.

Vera opened the door and was greeted by a cloud of dust. She angrily glared at the dust. Whoever assigned her to this room...

Vera jumped when the door beeped, splashing paint on the ceiling. She jumped off the makeshift ladder and walked to the door. She paused. It couldn't be her commanding officer because they still had an hour to show up. It shouldn't matter too much if she wasn't in her uniform yet. She casually pressed the button to open the door. An unfortunate young ensign answered the door. He held the information on her new job. Behind him was the delivery she had ordered. She sighed.