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Veers’ first instinct had been to deny. It must have been a mistake; his son could not have done something like that. Of course Zev had been difficult, far too inquisitive for his own good, rebellious. But so had all other teenagers. How was Veers supposed to have known that his son’s rebellion against authority had been more than a typical teenager-ploy designed to hurt his father? That it had been driven by ideology? That Zev not only hated him, but the Empire at large. That his son was a traitor. What in the blazes had ridden Zev? Why had the stupid boy not considered the wider implications? Don’t be silly, Max, you know Zev always does. No, for Zev it had probably been the perfect opportunity to kill two mynocks with one stone: Throw everything away to chase after some chimeric idea of ‘freedom and a better life’ and rid himself of his detested father in the process. Had Veers really been that horrible as a father? Horrible enough to deserve this? Hadn’t he always tried to do what was best for Zev? And this was how his son thanked him!
How could Veers have missed the warning signs? How could anyone believe him when he said that he had no foreknowledge? That he’d been completely blindsided by his son’s actions? What did that make him, in the eyes of the Empire? A traitor by association or just a failure? ‘How ironic’, people would say, ‘a father to his men, but a failure as an actual father’. There was no place in the Empire for failures, least of all in Death Squadron. It was probably only due to his supposed status as a hero that he hadn’t yet been done away with. Anyone else would no doubt have already been arrested by the ISB, interrogated, found guilty and executed. For now, it seemed that he was more useful to the Empire alive, but who knew how long it would stay that way. And what would happen once he had outlived his usefulness? How quickly glory passes away!
No matter what he did, things were a rotten mess. There was just no way to put a positive spin on ‘Hero of Hoth’s COMPNOR son defects to rebels’. And even the ISB could only bury the news for so long, word was bound to get out sooner or later. Not that it mattered when; Veers’ career was down the rubbish chute in any case. Maybe he should ask for permission to resign his commission and retire to a life of loneliness and ignominy on Denon. Be forgotten by the galaxy. But that would never happen, one could not simply leave the Imperial Army on a whim; and even if he were given permission to retire, the Rebels certainly wouldn’t be above capturing or assassinating an ‘Imperial war criminal’. Outside of daft holofilms, people didn’t just forgive and forget.
What other options were there? He could make a public announcement straightaway, wash his hands of the whole matter, and then accept whatever the higher-ups decreed. The ISB would never stand for it, of course; the damage would be far too large to contain, and they would see it as an act of defiance and retaliate accordingly. No, a public announcement was a sure-fire way towards a humiliating trial and swift execution. Certainly not the legacy he hoped for. Perhaps a reassignment away from the front lines, though the more interesting positions were probably off the table as well. The best he could hope for was a garrison command on some far-flung rock. One most decidedly did not want the father of a traitor developing weapons or lecturing impressionable cadets at Carida. A desk job on Coruscant was always an option. It would seem like an obvious degradation, but Veers could count on the ISB finding a way to justify it. From hero to flimsi pusher in the space of a few months! What was Maximilian Veers without his walkers? He was the face of the AT-AT programme, had staked his entire career on their success. Without them he would probably only just have made it to colonel. No, he would not resign himself to desk duty even if it were the only way out of this mess. Better to be buried in the ground than in bumf.
Perhaps it would be nobler to use his service blaster and do the deed himself. That way he would be able to preserve his dignity and reputation, though it would still result in a public relations crisis for the Empire. They would of course have to euphemise his death: officers committing suicide tended to raise eyebrows and bring unwanted inquiries. It was not good for the public image, not to mention the terrible effect it would have on morale. Unsanctioned suicide would also be considered tantamount to an admission of guilt, which might end up placing his subordinates—especially Covell—in a rather unenviable position. Wouldn’t it be ironic, if, in trying to clear your name, you ruined everyone else? No, suicide was out of the question for now, at least until the moment the ISB decided the story could no longer be suppressed. Veers could then offer his quiet death on the condition that there be no reprisals against his men. Perhaps if the powers that be were merciful, he would even be allowed a brave death on the battlefield. That would at least give the ISB an opportunity to keep the whole hero myth alive with all the pomp and circumstances. Veers could just imagine the bombastic obituary: ‘On the field of honour the Empire has lost one of its most valiant defenders. General Veers was the embodiment of outstanding fortitude and undaunted courage. His life was exclusively dedicated to his career and the fight for the Empire’.
Can you even hear yourself, Max? Your reputation, your career. What about your son? Why did he turn out like that? Somewhere along the line something had gone terribly wrong, which had made it impossible for Zev and him to have a normal father-son relationship. Zev had been distant for years, but that was just how teenage boys were. Veers had not been particularly close to his own father at that age either. Of course he had hoped that they would reconnect once Zev was an adult, but that hadn’t happened, no matter how much Veers had tried. Sure, Zev and he had never seen eye to eye on most things, but that had never made him love his son any less. In the past. He was not sure whether he could say the same now. You were always far too serious and too strict, Max. Yes, he had always demanded a lot from Zev, but only because his son had so much potential. Veers had never actually demanded that his son follow into his footsteps; on the contrary, nothing would have pleased him more than if Zev had carved out his own niche. But Zev had never seemed to care about any kind of success, indeed, at times it had seemed as if he deliberately affected indifference just to spite his father. And Zev had never wanted to accept that it reflected badly on Veers if his own son became a mediocrity. The higher your rank, the more expectations were placed on you; that was just how society was, whether they disliked it or not. In return the Veers name had provided Zev with a certain prestige as well as easier access to the best schools and positions; privileges that other men could only dream of. Had it been too much to expect his son to just apply himself a bit, to show a modicum of gratitude? To not destroy everything that Veers had struggled years to build up.
For yourself, not for Zev. When he needed you the most, you weren’t there! After Elara’s death Zev completely withdrew into his shell—and who could blame him? Elara had been the charming one, the loving one, the kind one, the one who could always coax Zev out of his shell. And Veers? Busy working. Veers had rarely taken home leave even when Elara had been alive—which she had constantly admonished him for—and after her death, his visits to Denon became even more sparse. He was happy doing longer shifts, taking on extra duties, volunteering for dangerous missions, foregoing leave. When his world had been turned upside down, the army gave him the clear objectives and structure he craved so much. And because it had worked for him, he naturally assumed that the military would be good for Zev as well: it would get him to be outside, exercise, interact with others, find a purpose, become happier again. It would give them something to bond over. But for some reason Zev had hated the military. He had always been better at more academic pursuits, had so much more of his mother’s fiery character and sharp wit, as opposed to Veers’ own coldness and physicality. Why had you been so bent on turning him into a soldier then? Because that was all Veers knew. Because he had wanted to be proud of his son. Because, in the end, he had cared more about his own career and reputation than his son’s wellbeing. If Veers hadn’t insisted that Zev join the military, they probably would have had a normal father-son relationship. Zev would not have had a reason to hate him, and he certainly would never have joined the rebellion. So, in trying to create the model son, all that Veers had achieved was the opposite. That meant that, even though he had not known of Zev’s treason in advance, he had created the necessary conditions for it to happen in the first place. Therefore, any punishment that fell on his own head was just and merited.
The ISB would no doubt be relieved to discover that Zev’s treason was, after all, purely down to personal motives rather than any ideological convictions; it made the whole incident far easier to explain away. It also made Veers’ required course of action clear. Perhaps Veers’ death would even prompt Zev to return to the Empire. To facilitate that, Veers might be able to persuade the ISB to grant Zev amnesty so that he would not be forced to fight for the Rebellion out of a fear of Imperial prosecution. Veers would never understand why—out of all the possible things he could have done—his son had thought it wise to join the Rebellion, and now it was too late to ask him. But hopefully, once Veers was gone, Zev would finally be able to live the life he wanted, away from his father’s overbearing shadow.