(Edit: Cooperative takeover of Selcaron and Halmad included in this thread)





I have declared the Onyxian Commonwealth a rogue state and it will be treated as such. This is a state that we intend to occupy and it is a state we intend to pacify! Any resistance in the form of military will be assumed to be the supporter of this rogue government and will be crushed accordingly. . .

. . .But I am not without mercy. I love my people as much as you love yours. Therefore, any Coalition warship that stands down when our occupation forces arrive will go unmolested. Any person within the Onyxian Occupation Zone who wishes to be a Coalition citizen is free to leave for Coalition space.











No help was coming for the Onyxians, not if the Cooperative didn't send it.

"We're walking a fine line here, Smarts; the slightest misstep could prove catastrophic for the Cooperative." Traan Shi was standing in one of the innermost compartments of Smarts' ship, literally staring at the vessel's reactor core.

"That's why we're meeting here, instead of in front of the Combined Council," Smarts responded, his voice once again seeming to seep from the walls. "I have the authority to mobilize our forces in order to provide aide to an ally nation; I have the authority to dispatch diplomatic envoys in a time of crisis. Whatever the outcome, I will take full responsibility for it."

"And so will I, if you have your way."

"We have a chance to help save a nation," Smarts said, almost sounding emotional. "We have to try." Smarts paused for a moment, giving Traan a chance to brace for the question that was coming. "Will you help me save a nation, Traan?"

Traan sighed heavily, bowing his head, obviously debating with himself. He finally looked up, though there was nothing to look at, and gave his answer: "When do we leave?"





Onyx

Imperial forces would soon be closing in on Onyx, as well as every other world of the Commonwealth. Without aide, the entire nation of the Onyxian Commonwealth would be crushed within days, perhaps sooner. It would seem that the fate of the Onyxian Commonwealth was sealed.

A single Theta-class shuttle exited hyperspace in the Onyx System, immediately transmitting Coalition diplomatic and military command codes. Receiving emergency clearance to land, the shuttle sped through Onyxian space, cutting quickly through the planet's atmosphere and coming to rest on a diplomatic landing pad. Nearly three dozen individuals exited the craft, hurrying into the adjacent building. If the Onyxian Commonwealth was to be saved, they had to act quickly.





A few hours later, the delegation from the Cooperative of Systems was standing before the Ruling Council of the Onyxian Commonwealth, ready with their proposal. Traan Shi stepped away from the group of Cooperative representatives, Commander Kerrick Arkanus taking a position beside him. "We don't have time for etiquette and protocol, so I'll make this quick and simple," Traan said solemnly. "The Cooperative doesn't have much in the way of military resources to send to you, and even if we did, it wouldn't mean much in the long run. The Empire is set on destroying your nation, and they will succeed, unless you let us help you, in the only way that we can."

Traan continued on, the Ruling Council apparently content to sit and listen. "Allow us to help you evacuate citizens and resources to Cooperative space, where we will help you establish a new Onyxian government on a new world, and preserve your way of life. I don't propose this lightly and I understand that—"

"You understand?!" One of the members of the Council shouted, standing to his feet and pointing at Traan, a terrifying anger in his eyes. "You would have us abandon our people, our worlds, our way of life, and run away to hide on some mothball of a planet while you take advantage of whatever resources you can carve from our world in the days before the Empire arrives? You come here calling yourself our ally, but all you want is an excuse to take whatever you can get your hands on. I will not abandon my people to the Empire, and watch you scurry away with your hands and pockets filled with whatever you can scrounge from them!" The man's fist was clenched now, shaking it threateningly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're absolutely right," Traan said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "It would be best to leave your shipyards in orbit," he said calmly, then his voice began to grow louder and more confrontational as he continued, "so the Empire can take them when they reach this world! It won't be hard," He continued, his voice still harsh and grating, "because I'm sure you're going to smash every ship that you have against their encroaching forces! If you want to save your people, then you'll listen to what I have to say, because right now, there's nowhere in the galaxy that wants you—that will even take you in—except for the Cooperative."

Traan calmed down, pausing for a moment to try to compose himself. "I'm giving you the chance to preserve some remnant of the nation that you all have helped to build. When the Empire comes, and your defenses fall, and their Stormtroopers are marching through the streets of every city on every world of this Commonwealth, then your people will want to leave, to flee to a place where the enemy of their age does not tread. When that time comes, they could find themselves in the East, or the West, or maybe even in the Contegorian Confederation; or they could find themselves on an Onyxian world, with an Onyxian government, surrounded by Onyxian citizens, with Onyxian warships in orbit, watching over them. They could find themselves surrounded by a nation that has decided to take them in, and care for them.

"Do now what you won't be able to do in the days to come. Let us help you relocate the resources that would otherwise be destroyed or converted to Imperial use. The Emperor has promised to allow the unhindered exodus of all warships and civilians, so long as they pass peacefully. If his promise proves untrue, then you can have your glorious battle, then you can run yourselves upon the swords of your enemies.

"I understand that you have a duty to this nation, to its worlds and its people, and to those who have fallen defending it, but if you all stay and fight, there will be no one left to fight when it will matter. This is your chance; the window of opportunity is closing fast."

"I hate to say it," Kerrick Arkanus finally commented as Traan finished, "but 'he who fight and runs away. . .'" He let the old cliché hang in the air for a moment, not bothering to finish it, not willing to be so trivial when so much hung on the outcome of this Council's decision. "If nothing else, you can appreciate the military significance of our offer. We can't fight for you, but in time, you'll be able to fight for yourselves again."

The two of them stood in silence, awaiting the Onyxian response, both hopeful and fearful, for the Cooperative and for the Commonwealth.

((Colonization Lesalia moved to this thread for convenience))

It was a time of chaos in the Galactic Coalition. They were forced to give up the whole of the Onyxian Commonwealth to the hands of the Empire. Twelve planets of people who have long since had the ire of the Empire since the days of the Outer Rim Sovereignty and now face its wrath. Twelve planets of people who are going to try and flee from it with everything they can manage to draw together.

The worst thing the Emperor could have done was to give the blanket offer of freedom. To give people that window to run. Could he have known exactly what it would do to them? The fear and panic that ran rampant and poisoned everywhere they went?

The people of the Onyxian Commonwealth would run. The more guilty of crimes against the Empire, the further lengths they’d go to try and run. They made course for the nearest systems they could in whatever craft that would. The north had largely been dominated by the Onyxians and there were few places on their side of the Galaxy they could run to except….

Bei-diang – Capital of Sinsang

Chairman Chao sat in his office, still and unmoving. His eyes stared silently at the images appearing from the holo-projector on the other side of the room. His mind was still working on getting it sunk in. His lips were drawn thin and white from the pain of trying to figure it all out. A week ago, they had sat next to the strongest section in the entire Coalition. The Onyxians held the most experienced and powerful navy in the Coalition. They had a great deal of influence in Coalition affairs.

And now, they were abandoned.

Fed to the dogs of the Emperor to stave off their hunger for the flesh of the Coalition.

And now they came. Like rats from a sinking ship to theirs. The reports were coming of more and more of them arriving by the minute. Transports and shuttles and fighters. Anything that had a hyperdrive and room for a person was arriving at their doorstep as people ran from the encroaching might of the Empire. All of them crawling with Onyxians. They were gumming up commercial traffic and there was only so much more the fleet could do to keep order.

Chao took a deep breath as he rubbed his temples as he tried to think of some way to deal with the growing political situation going on above. He had to do SOMETHING with these Onyxians. If he sent them away, they’d have to go through Imperial space to try and get back to the other Coalition planets. The rest of the Coalition would turn their back on them and the Anx would never let them hear the end of it. It’d also ruin their appearance.

But the Sinsangese were already providing room for the Anx, and there was only so much room for so many refugees. There was progress being made on Gravlex Med but there was no way they would be able to move this many people onto the planet. There would be no room for these refugees.

He had called a meeting of the council but they wouldn’t be able to meet until the evening and he had no idea how out of hand things would get until then.

--------------------------

Gaising – Sinsang’s Moon

“And I want you to keep those ship in order dammit!” Captain Chang Wu said as he walked down the hall. The officer he was talking to gave a nod and ran off as another man ran up. It had been an entire day of organizing ships and deployment. He was trying desperately to keep the commercial lines clear to avoid an accident but it was hard keeping the civilians in line.

Technically, the Onyxian Commonwealth still exists and thus these Onyxian citizens were of a different court of law. There was a group of them sitting on one of the commercial lanes with a lawyer who kept preaching Coalition law. He was trying to jam their transmissions. They kept going on about ‘Being granted right for settlement’ and ‘Speaking to a diplomat’.

Chang Wu was getting increasingly irritated. Half of them were making demands and some were panicked, just trying to find somewhere to stand. Most of them had been too foolish to pack any foodstuffs and they would soon have to organize getting a round of supplies around for them.

Half of them claiming to be refugees and the other half claiming they’re pleading for resettlement And who would be treated as what?

“Sir… uhm….” The man mumbled, as if lost for words. Chang Wu’s eyes hardened on the officer. His face turned white as the Captain stood over him expectantly but after a moment the fear of the Captain shattered his fear of telling him. “There’s been an… accident.”

Chang Wu didn’t even say anything. His frown merely increased and he turned back towards the command center. He had been there all day and hadn’t had the chance to even have tea. And he was likely going to end up being there all night to until this Onyxian issue was finally resolved.

“I want details.” Chang Wu demanded as he returned to his position looking over the hologram of the system traffic. There were more dots on the screen than he’d ever seen before.

“There’s been a collision sir.” Lieutenant Tseng said as he handed a datapad over to the Captain. “It was between a freighter and one of the Onyxian transports. The ship came out hyperspace and rammed them.”

“Casualties?”

“Unknown. We’ve got support crews at the wreckage but both vessels are slag. We know there was at least ten crew on the freighter.”

Chang Wu sighed as he looked at the datapad. “Clear up the wreckage and send the wreck to the salvage yards. Tell them to count the corpses or what’s left of them. And I want you to get those damn civilian vessels out of the trade lanes! Give them one last warning.”

“And if they ignore sir?” Tseng asked, raising an eyebrow to his commanding officer.

“They’ll find out when they do.”

It was going to be a long day.

The sound of a chair being slid across the floor echoed through the deathly stillness that had fallen on the meeting, and Golgna, the Council member from Onyx stood slowly, his face set in stone, his hands pressed against the top of the table that sat in front of him. "We are the Onyxian Commonwealth; we are its leaders, and as such, we share its fate. If it is called 'rogue,' then so are we. Any agreement you formed with us, you would be forming with an enemy of the Empire. You cannot afford to do that, and we will not allow the ruin that will be visited upon us to pass to you.

"Your dream of preserving the Onyxian government is a noble one, but it is foolish. You cannot help us; we are beyond salvation. Onyx will die, and the Coalition will survive; that is the price that has been paid." He made the last statement with such finality, such utter hopelessness, that Traan knew there was no point in arguing. The Onixian government would not—could not—get involved with any effort the Cooperative made to save the Onyxian people.





The walk back to the transport was silent and sorrowful. Traan spent the few moments considering what had just happened, if it could have realistically happened any other way, and what terrible consequences would have followed if the Commonwealth had accepted their offer. The silence was oppressive and draining, seeming to sap the life from the delegation as they walked, but they continued on in silence, no one knowing what to say to break the terrible spell.

A nation had just died, and they were walking through its corpse.

A shadowy figure appeared ahead, walking slowly toward them, concealed by a hooded robe. Just behind him was the exit, and in the distance the delegation's shuttle could be seen sitting on its landing pad. The man walked slowly towards them, and Traan slowed as they approached, finally coming to a stop. He stared at the hooded man for a long moment, considering the barely-visible features beneath the cloak. He was dressed not unlike the traditional Jedi, but this man was no Jedi: there was something about him that was rigid. . . dark. This man didn't possess the spirit of a Jedi; he was something else entirely, but maybe just as dangerous. Maybe just as meaningful.

"Ambassador Traan Shi?" He asked, stopping a meter away from Traan.

"Yes?"

The man pulled down his hood, fixing cold eyes on the Ambassador. "My name is Ethan Vang, of the Praetorian Guard. You need to come with me."

Fifteen minutes later, Traan Shi and Kerrick Arkanus were standing in the launch bay of a Commonwealth Bird of Prey, the rest of their seemingly useless delegation just behind them. "This is Nitin Cass," Ethan said as a female Iridonian approached, her polite poise and diplomatic garb contrasting sharply with the rigid Guardsman.

Nitin stepped forward, extending her hand in greeting. "Ambassador," She said lightly, as Traan shook her hand, "it is good to meet you. Commander," She added, nodding toward Kerrick.

"We've detected your fleet holding position three lightyears out," Ethan said, interrupting the pleasantries. He handed Traan a datapad: "Send them these coordinates; we'll rendezvous there."

"I'd hardly call it a fleet," Traan said defensively, looking at the datapad Ethan had handed him. "Sanctuary?"

"The home of the Praetorian Guard," Ethan said proudly, then added, "among other things."

Minutes later, with the coordinates sent to the Cooperative ships, the Bird of Prey shook slightly and accelerated into hyperspace.

"May I ask why we're going there?"

"Of course, Ambassador. Please, this way." Nitin began walking toward the launch bay's exit, heading farther into the ship. "I realize this isn't the ideal meeting place, but these are far from ideal times. The answer to your question is simple: the Praetorian Guard have been quite effective in putting together an evacuation plan, of sorts."

"Of sorts?" Kerrick asked, a little too sarcastically.

"We're talking about evacuating an entire region of space," Ethan responded dryly. "Not an easy task. Lucky for you, we're in a unique position. We're the servants of the Coalition, the pride of their military; it just so happens that we're based in Onyxian space. We'll be able to move about the Commonwealth for quite some time, even after the Empire takes over, helping to coordinate the evacuation. Some will stay, unwilling to leave their homelands, but billions will undoubtedly flee."

"The Commonwealth is indeed dead, but its people are still very much alive," Nitin said, continuing where Ethan left off. "When the large-scale evacuations start, when the Empire comes and starts scarring everyone away, we'll need a way to draw them all together, to give them hope that this nightmare will end."

"Can you do that?" Traan asked, sounding doubtful.

"I love the Commonwealth; I love Iridonia; but a nation means nothing without people, and without a nation, people are nothing more than savages. When the time comes, when the people are finally where they're going, crowded on some world in your Quelii Sector, then my purpose will be made clear. The people of the Commonwealth will listen to me, and those I work with; they respect the opinions of the Iridonians, and most importantly, they trust us. To them, you're outsiders, but we're neighbors, allies. . . friends. We'll help you establish order, build a government, reorganize police forces and political institutions. We have to start all over again, with nothing but the memory of what we once were, and the hope of what we can one day become."

"So," Kerrick asked skeptically, "what does any of this have to do with Sanctuary?"







Sanctuary

"It sounds a little like a square peg in a round hole to me," Kerrick remarked, a little overwhelmed, staring at the torrent of asteroids that filled the forward viewscreen.

"Good thing I made sure to bring an axe," Ethan said blankly from his position beside Kerrick and Traan. "That doesn't mean it's going to be easy. Make sure your ships stay in formation; we're going in." The Cooperative had sent a number of various freighters and transports with Traan's delegation. A few lightyears from Onyx, the entire group had dropped out of hyperspace, Traan and his men continuing on in the shuttle. It was only now that Traan and those vessels had been reunited

"I'm a little more concerned with the political ramifications," Traan said, almost sounding nervous.

"Sanctuary is the headquarters of the Praetorian Guard; the way I see it, anything in there belongs to us," Ethan reassured, though not very well. "And like I said before," He added, smiling, "we're just loyal Coalition soldiers."

Kerrick and Traan were the only members of the delegation still there; the others had left for Iridonia with Nitin Cass almost immediately after reverting to realspace. Inside that asteroid field were warships, munitions, starship parts, shipyards, and soldiers: lots and lots of soldiers. Praetorian Guard soldiers. Everything was packed up and ready to go, but there was just one problem: there weren't enough transports at Sanctuary to get everything out. The Cooperative convoy would solve that problem.

Sanctuary had been chosen as the base of the Praetorian Guard because it was a natural fortress, the asteroid field so intense that entry or exit was nearly impossible. There was only one small window of opportunity, which opened approximately once a day; if they missed that, they missed their chance.

The Bird of Prey accelerated suddenly, flying toward the asteroid field, only seconds away from apparent destruction. The vessel executed a series of weaves and turns, slipping through the field, following a precisely timed path. Square peg, round hole. Kerrick watched the asteroids ahead. There were so many of them: so many shapes, sizes, distances, speeds, and directions. It was profoundly disorienting. And then they were through, into a relatively stable area around one of the largest asteroids. The perimeter was ringed with huge tractor-repulsor stations, designed to repel any asteroid that sought to approach the asteroid called Sanctuary. It was directly ahead of them, massive, ominous; ringed by shipyards, and swarming with warships, it was an awesome sight to behold. Too bad it was about to become an Imperial holding.

"The Cooperative convoy has made it through safely," The navigator reported. "Transmitting docking locations now."

It would be twenty-four hours before the vessels entombed in that stone fortress could leave. Twenty-four hours to strip this place dry.





Iridonia

Rane Cardan had worked with Traan Shi for years. When Traan resigned his position on Shili to help the people of Varn form the Cooperative, it didn't take Rane long to follow suit. As the most-senior official of the Cooperative representatives now at Iridonia, and a trusted friend of Traan Shi, it would be Rane's responsibility to carry out Traan's wishes.

The meeting was a fairly large one. There were representatives from several Iridonian clans, as well as several officials from Iridonia's planetary government. A large group of Praetorian Guard were present, as well, and as Rane stepped into the room, one of the Guardsmen was just finishing up a long-winded statement.

"Let's not play any word games," One of the Iridonians said, waving a dismissive hand at the Guardsman. "What you're talking about is martial law."

"Perhaps you should intervene," Nitin Cass whispered to Rane, the two of them stepping further into the crowded room. The whole meeting seemed very unorganized, or at least very unofficial.

Rane took a deep breath, calming himself, then walked into the center of the room. "What you fail to realize, is that the Cooperative of Systems will be overseeing each stage of the new Onyxian government's development; there can be no martial law where soldiers answer to politicians."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Rane Cardan, of the Galactic Coalition's Cooperative of Systems," Nitin said, taking a few steps forward as she introduced Rane, gesturing to him as she did so.

"Sorry I'm late," he added sheepishly, a nervous smile showing through his attempts to appear confident. All eyes were on him, expecting him to continue, hoping for some reassurance that their efforts would prove fruitful. "Uhh, the Praetorian Guard will undoubtedly serve to help maintain order during the initial stages of the relocation, but our purpose in all of this is to establish a working government as quickly and efficiently as possible. Our goal is to make this transition to Cooperative space as orderly as possible, so we can rebuild a society, not just relocate a populace. The Praetorian Guard is here to help, not take over."

"What do you mean by 'new Onyxian government'?" The question came from Nitin, which surprised Rane a little.

"He means whatever puppet system they install to force our compliance," The same man who had responded to the Guardsman earlier yelled.

Rane had to choose his next words carefully; he knew this moment would come, but now that it was finally here, he wasn't sure if he was ready for it. "The government established to rule over your people will be established by those very people; however, it will be a Cooperative government, not an Onyxian one, and it will answer to the Combined Council of the Cooperative, not the Ruling Council of the Onyxian Commonwealth, should those people choose to reestablish it. The immigrants from the former Onyxian Commonwealth who find themselves within Cooperative space will be integrated as Cooperative citizens, not as citizens of an allied nation occupied by a hostile force."

"This is the choice we have made," Nitin said loudly, hoping her support would reduce the opposition to Rane's statement. "Ambassador Traan Shi, the chief diplomatic representative of the Cooperative of Systems, has given me his personal assurances that any Onyxian Citizens who flee to the Cooperative will be settled together; this nation is dead, but its people will be allowed to build a new civilization together."

"We have no other choice," One of the older, more prominent Iridonians said, offering his support before anyone else could object. "It will be done." Several others gave their assent, and though it was obvious that many in the room didn't like the arrangement, they gave no open opposition. If the eldest, most experienced, most respected members of the assembly believed that this course of action was right, then that was the course of action that would be taken.

It seemed that the matter was settled: the Iridonians would support and assist in the Cooperative's relocation plans however they could.

"Now," Nitin said gravely, "how do we make this happen?"





Varn

"You did what!?" Giles Rhade exclaimed, everyone in the room finally understanding why Smarts had invited the man from Amorris to the Combined Council's meeting.

"We joined the Coalition because we believed that we could help it," Beta said loudly. "Now we have that chance. There are less than five million people on Amorris, making it the only world under our control that has any hope of accommodating the refugees from the Onyxian Commonwealth. Rane Cardan, Traan Shi's chief assistant, contacted me hours ago; an advance group of Iridonians will soon be on their way, to help us prepare for the large-scale arrivals."

"We've already got people showing up in Cooperative space," A representative from Varn said nervously, "and we don't know what to do with them. How do you expect us to handle any serious influx of refugees?"

"We have to mobilize all of the resources at our disposal immediately, and we have to begin planning for the weeks and months ahead," Beta responded quickly. "We need to begin building large-scale temporary housing on Amorris immediately, mobilize the droid factories on Ord Cestus for the production of massive numbers of construction droids, expand all available mines and refineries to build up the materials needed for construction of permanent structures, and most importantly, we need to find a way to feed these people."

"Can we not count on the Coalition for aide?" One of the other Council members asked, frightened and overwhelmed.

"The Coalition will send what aide it can, but there's no way to be certain of how quickly they will respond, how much they will send, or how long we will be dependent on it. If we begin planning now for the long-term repercussions, we can become self-sufficient as soon as possible."

The clicking sound of a X'Ting cut through the air, and everyone paused in recognition of the insect's statement, though it had not yet been translated. A human from the same delegation—Cestus—whispered something to the X'Ting, and after several seconds of passing a datapad back and forth, the human stood, speaking on behalf of all of the planet's representatives. "The Cooperative was founded upon the belief that diversity brings about unity; that in the end, the very different species, cultures, and societies of this galaxy all need each other. Not long ago, you extended your hand to us, and saved us from destroying ourselves; now it is our turn to extend our hand, and prove that this Cooperative was not forged in vain. You united Cestus' species under their combined desire for economic prosperity, and now it will be that prosperity that we will use to aide this relocation, so in time, those who find a home among us may one day come to our aide, and perpetuate the cycle of Cooperation."

Sanctuary

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Traan Shi sounded nervous, and the face he made as his eyes slid from Ethan Vang to the viewport behind him didn't help the matter.

Curious about what had so distracted the ambassador, Ethan turned around to see what the Togruta was looking at. "Ah, yes," He said offhandedly, his eyes being drawn to the expanding cloud of fire and debris issuing from a nearby shipyard. "It won't fit intact." He turned back to Traan, a look of amusement on his face. "The engineers managed to dismantle most of the connecting components, but they didn't have time to properly slice through the main support structure. They settled on shaped charges." He added the last sentence with a dark smile.

"This is going to work, right?" Traan Shi said again, the sound of nervousness turning to one of worry.

"I'll do everything in my power to preserve every life under my command." Ethan's moment of casual amusement had passed, and he was once again the hardened soldier, once again the pinnacle of what it was to be a Praetorian Guard. "Greed won't be our downfall; not today."

Through the viewport, the two fragments of the shipyard were floating away from each other, drawn away by the invisible grasp of tractor beams, undoubtedly originating from the tiny specks of reflected light that were buzzing all around them: tugs.

An unusual beeping sound issued from Ethan's commlink, and without checking it, his features went rigid, and he said solemnly: "It's time." As Ethan moved toward the room's exit, Traan followed him with his eyes, the Togruta's face still worried and uncertain. "May the Force be with you."

"May the Force be with us all." Without another word or glance, Ethan Vang stepped out of the small conference room and set out to do the impossible: breach the Sanctuary asteroid field.




Varn, Orbit

The hologram image of Commodore Blakeley of the Halmad Royal Defense Force flickered slightly, possibly due to the unnaturally high levels of comm chatter in the Varn system; the spacelanes were in turmoil, and no one seemed to know what to do. "I apologize for the necessity of holocommunication, Commodore, but the current situation has required the deployment of all of my representative droids."

The fuzzy image looked as though it was ready to terminate the channel and smash the holocomm, but—rather surprisingly—the notoriously stuck-up Commodore Blakeley reached down, adjusted some settings to clear up the image, and allowed a few of the sharp edges of his enraged features to slacken. "Yes, well, such unpleasantries become necessities in times like these. Tell me, Overseer: what is of such importance that you have broke from your duties to contact me?"

"We need Halmad's help," Smarts said flatly as he carefully watched the new unpleasant expression that replaced the commodore's previous one. "We need to divert all incoming traffic unrelated to the Onyxian Crisis, and Halmad is the nearest planet that can facilitate such an unexpected influx; your world, after all, is a dominant trade center for this region."

The commodore's features slackened a little more, bordering on a look of tolerance, and when he spoke, he almost sounded curious, rather than outraged. "Why would you contact me about this? This is an issue that should be taken through existing alliance channels."

Commodore Blakeley was referring to what was left of the temporary alliance that had been formed by several Quelii Sector worlds in order to destroy the Cavrilhu Pirates; at the conclusion of the military action that had brought about the Cavrilhu's downfall, the member worlds had agreed to maintain diplomatic relations by means of an embassy established on Varn, the world which had proposed the initial alliance.

Smarts had expected the question, and the answer was simple. "Neither I, the people of Varn, nor the incoming Coalition citizens have the time to wait for an international committee to decide how best to handle this situation. We know each other, Commodore; you were instrumental in the Quelii Sector Alliance. You are a man of honor, who can't conceive of indecision. So I'll make this simple, and straightforward, because I need a simple and straightforward answer: will you help us? Will you see to it that Halmad is offered as an alternate route for our incoming traffic?"

"Of course," He replied quickly and simply, the faintest traces of compassion showing on his face. "They'll listen to me; I'll have you an official declaration of Halmad's intent to offer aide by the end of the day. Good day and good luck, Overseer." And before Smarts could even say "thank you," the hologram had vanished.




Amorris

There was a dust storm on Amorris, which wouldn't be out of the ordinary if it had been in one of the deserts, but it wasn't: it was in the middle of the Western Expanse, a large, open area covered in tall grasses and sparse, rugged trees. The storm itself concealed its unnatural origins: large, slow-moving machines that devoured the slightly sandy dirt below them, and left behind two- and three-story buildings in their wakes. The buildings were made from a ceramic material made almost entirely from the natural soil, and sturdy enough to stand indefinitely in the climate of the Western Expanse, presuming the structures were properly maintained.

The machines were working at full speed at the moment, stretched to the limits of their operational capacities. Once the relocation effort began, the speed of construction would have to be reduced considerably, in order to silence the raging dust storm.

Ships had already begun arriving in-system. Most had been ordered to remain in orbit, but those too crowded were allowed to land. The influx of people had threatened to destroy the delicate economy of Amorris' only city, and Cooperative officials had been forced to take over in order to ensure that everyone's needs were met. Already, massive tent cities were springing up at various locations across the planet, wherever fresh water was readily available.

Massive storage yards had been erected in the form of grounded superfreighters, most of them carrying what little surplus food Varn had had stockpiled. Freighters were arriving from the Kauron asteroid mines with what materials the native soil lacked for the production of the construction ceramics. All in all, the first day of what was quickly coming to be called the Great Northern Relocation was going well.




Sanctuary

A fleet of transports, freighters, and warships floated on the edge of the Sanctuary Asteroid Field's exit point, waiting for the brief period in which they would be able to penetrate the wall of stone and emerge into the greater galaxy once more. Surrounding them on all sides were several select vessels, all of them attached by towing cables and tractor beams to the massive tractor-repulsor stations that usually shielded the Sanctuary asteroid from chance collisions. In the rear, several more vessels awaited the appearance of their escape route. They, too were tethered to large, artificial objects: a large fraction of the shipyards of Sanctuary StarDrive.

"If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times," Kerrick Arkanus said bitterly, glancing over at Ethan Vang. "Square peg, round hole."

"Again: I brought an axe," Ethan replied coldly, though he couldn't help but glance at the asteroid-diverting space stations he was referring to. The whole operation had been planned out as well as it could be in less than forty-eight hours. Continual scans had been taken of the asteroid field, and all available charts of the field had been compiled. Still, the asteroid shell around Sanctuary was extremely active, and it was impossible to calculate with any real certainty the location of every asteroid at any given point in time, at least not on a one-day timetable.

And then they were off. The freighters and transports left first, carrying Sanctuary's workers and construction supplies, followed closely by the Praetorian and former Onyxian warships that had been inside the asteroid field. As the warships moved into the field, the tractor-repulsor stations began moving as well, pressing into the turbulent field. They moved considerably slower than the self-propelled starships, but with a combination of tractor beams and laser fire coming from the warships that towed them, they were able to stave off the largest stray asteroids, their shields absorbing countless minor impacts.

As the forward stations moved deeper into the asteroid field, the narrow exit corridor began to break down, and while the gunners onboard the warships were having trouble keeping up, the droids onboard the towed stations were on the verge of breakdown, running through thousands of compiled asteroid maps, trying to find the ones that would best predict the next stage of the corridor's dissolution.

But as chaos reigned onboard the vessels responsible for forcing open the closing exit, the shipyards made their way along the quiet, peaceful path that had been opened for them. The first of the tractor-repulsor stations reached the outer edge of the asteroid field, followed shortly by the first of the Sanctuary shipyards, and then something terrible happened.

About halfway through the asteroid field, one of the stations had just diverted a large asteroid; it cascaded away, impacting a nearby asteroid and exploding in a cloud of dust and vapor. With their scanners and visuals momentarily blocked, there was no way for them to see another large asteroid on approach, which burst through the dust cloud and slammed into the space station before the droid crew could redirect their repulsor beams.

Ethan made the decision in a fraction of a second. "Breach! We have a breach! Sections six through ten, abandon cargoes for immediate pullout. Render assistance as able." As they watched the sensor readouts from the safety of their observation platform, Ethan and Kerrick saw the last few groups of ships towing the shipyards cut free of their baggage and accelerate toward the exit at maximum speeds. Simultaneously, the ships responsible for the furthermost section of the corridor abandoned their space stations, racing through the damaged corridor. One after another, layer after layer of ships responsible for the tractor-repulsor stations cut free and ran for the exit, a few of the vessels stopping at the damaged section, adding their firepower to help stave off calamity.

Finally, the retreat had caught up to the breach, and before long, the last of the ships made their way out of the asteroid field. Surveying the damage afterward, Ethan's anger fell not upon the men of section five, corridor detail, station three, who had been responsible for the breach, but upon the crews responsible for the section six shipyards. Ethan had ordered them to abandon their cargo and make for the exit, but they had chosen to continue on course as if nothing was wrong, dragging themselves and their shipyard sections through the damaged section of corridor.

After several minutes of yells and curses, Ethan cut the connection with the civilian captain responsible for the incident. "How many did we lose?" Kerrick asked, surveying the significant damage to both the shipyards and ships.

"No casualties," Ethan replied angrily, still muttering about how stupid civilians could be. "But there could have been. We stuck 'em in the middle because we thought they'd be safest there, and we didn't have enough military ships big enough to handle towing duty."

A few stray asteroids had made it through in other places, many of them leaving their marks on the mutilated shipyards. As the two men stood there, talking, almost half of the shipyards intended to be removed were being reduced to ever-smaller bits of debris by the relentless fury of the Sanctuary asteroid field.

Traan Shi stepped onto the observation platform, Ethan silencing his curses immediately. Traan looked worn and tired, but surprisingly happy. "I just heard; congratulations on a successful withdrawal. The loss of so many shipyards is regrettable, but they were secondary. The important thing is that everyone made it out." Traan paused for a moment, a question obviously forming in his mind. "Out of curiosity—and I feel silly for not thinking of it until now, but—how are we getting the shipyards to Cooperative space?"

"Temporary hyperdrives," Ethan said immediately, as if he had been expecting someone to ask him that. "They're used throughout the galaxy to move large-scale, pre-fabricated space stations. The engineers equipped them before we left Sanctuary. They're ready to leave when you are."

"Good, good," Traan muttered, a slight smile still on his face. He looked up, finally aware of the curious looks Kerrick and Ethan were giving him. "Oh, I'm sorry. I've just heard news from Rane Cardan, the man I sent to Iridonia. A delegation is on its way to Varn as we speak, and he has heard from the Overseer that the Combined Council is mobilizing all available resources for the relocation effort.

"Overseer?" Ethan asked. "I'm not familiar with that title."

"Giant droid thing," Kerrick said unkindly. "Likes to boss people around."

"Overseer Smarts is the—ah—being responsible for the formation of the Cooperative and my involvement in the Cooperative, not to mention the Cooperative's offer of aide to the Onyxian Commonwealth."

"But other than that," Kerrick said, still sounding unfriendly, "he's a giant droid with a brain too big for his own good."

Traan turned to leave. "Excuse me, Sirs; I'll go tell my captains to prepare for hyperspace. We leave on your command, Guardsman."

Hyperspace

It was time to go home. They had come to ensure the safety of the Onyxian people, to present them with a place where they might preserve some fragment of their identities, and their duty was done. It was time to go home.

So why were they on their way to Valacar, another Onyxian holding, one farther away from Cooperative space than Sanctuary? In a word: Ilum. A location even more-removed from galactic civilization.

The technology of a thousand species, Kerrick Arkanus thought to himself, and they don't know how to add. Disgraceful. Kerrick was leaning heavily against the bulkhead, the blaze of hyperspace pouring over his face as he stared through the viewport that was only inches in front of his nose, fighting the exhaustion that threatened to drag him to the ground. "Why are we even bothering with this?" Kerrick croaked loudly, swaying difficulty away from the wall and walking across the small sitting area.

"This is what we do," Traan Shi answered calmly, sitting peacefully with his hands folded in his lap, his face a picture of serenity.

* * *

Two hours earlier

Sanctuary

"We've got a problem," A very young man in Praetorian Guard uniform said after bursting into the room and offering a sharp salute.

Ethan Vang returned it casually, hardly bothering to look up from the mess of datapads, star charts, and loose pieces of flimsiplast that covered his small desk, then muttered, "You think, Cole?" sarcastically.

Davik Cole was one of several hundred men and women aboard the various ships of the Coalition fleet preparing to leave Sanctuary who had been caught with his pants down, so to speak, and through no fault of his own. He had joined the Praetorian Guard just over a week ago, and as such, had only just begun the rigorous training program required of all hopeful Guardsmen. He wasn't yet truly a member of the Praetorian Guard, but he was far from being a civilian. And thus he had become the personal errand boy of the ship's captain.

"We've just received a message from Ilum; something's gone wrong, and the ships they were expecting were sent somewhere else. They don't have enough ships to empty the supply depot."

Ethan sighed heavily. "You're kidding me. I just blew a hole through an asteroid field and dragged half of Sanctuary StarDrive through it, and you're telling me they're complaining to me because they can't count straight?" He was seething; he hadn't gotten a real night's worth of sleep since Bilbringi, what with the planning for an Imperial counter-strike, and then the news that the Coalition had surrendered the Commonwealth.

"Actually, yes, Sir," Davik said reluctantly. "Apparently, some fleet element was accidentally ordered to two locations at once; they chose people over supplies. But in their defense," He added quickly, seeing Ethan's anger welling again, "they've only had a day or two to work this out."

It didn't help. "Again: I blew a hole in Sanctuary, and dragged out the shipyards! And I went to Onyx to pick up our Cooperative friends. My timetable? A day and a half. I win; no excuse."

"Sir, maybe you should get some rest." Davik tried as hard as he could to make it sound like a simple suggestion, but in truth, he was probably starting to worry about Ethan.

"I don't have any ships," Ethan said suddenly, either ignoring Davik, or actually so tired that he didn't realize the younger man had said anything. "I-I-I don't have any." He was shaking his head, once again staring down at the jumble of reports and data that littered his desk. "There just isn't enough room. . . Everything's full."

"Should I tell them that we can't help, Sir?"

Ethan tried to muster a smile, and almost managed, then hurled the mess on his desk to the floor, grabbed a blank piece of flimsiplast that had been buried under all of the reports, and began scribbling vigorously. "I've got a fleet to run. I've got a job to do. There," He said after a moment, handing Davik the piece of flimsi. "Cole, I want you to take this message to either Ambassador Shi, or Commander Arkanus, both of which are from the Cooperative. Next time we meet, let me know how everything worked out."

Davik looked a little confused, but gave a sturdy, "Yes, Sir," saluted, and made his way out the door, still worried about Ethan.

He found Traan Shi and Kerrick Arkanus at the same time; they were in the docking bay, preparing to leave for one of the Cooperative ships that made up the sizable convoy now preparing to leave Onyxian space forever. "Commander Arkanus," He said briskly, saluting. "Ambassador Shi," He added, bowing slightly. "I have a message for you." He handed the piece of flimsi to the ambassador, whose face lit up with surprise, and quickly turned to hand the message to Commander Arkanus.

"Well, that's surprising," The ambassador said, bewildered, as he turned back to Cole. "Shall we be on our way, then?"

"I'm sorry, Ambassador," Davik said cordially, "but I don't follow."

Traan snatched the note from Kerrick and handed it to Davik. "You're coming with us to Valacar to collect vessels capable of transporting the supplies stored at Ilum. Although I hope this 'by any means necessary' bit was written in jest."

Davik's surprise as he read the note helped disguise his worry at hearing the ambassador's last comment. "Well then," He said with a false sense of cheer, "shall we be on our way?"



Valacar

Valacar was a dismal world in pretty much every conceivable way, but like all things Onyxian, it had a garrison. When the shuttle carrying Traan, Kerrick, and Davik landed, they were greeted not by a representative of the planet's government, but interestingly enough by a member of the Praetorian Guard.

He offered them a quick salute, and then handed Kerrick a datapad. "Everything's in order, Sir," He added as he walked away. Kerrick looked down at the datapad to see a departure time, a list of ships' names, and rather large monetary sum.

"That was easy," Traan remarked, glancing over at Kerrick. "How'd they manage that so quickly?"

"The universal language," Kerrick said quickly, turning around to reenter the shuttle. "Money."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Apparently, the Praetorian Guard appropriated some funds from a local bank and hired the local freighter captains."

Traan stopped at the base of the transport's ramp, realization dawning. "You can't be serious. They robbed a bank, and forced everyone they could find that happened to have a ship to come with us? 'By any means necessary,' indeed!"

Kerrick smiled. "They 'appropriated' funds which will be reimbursed by the Onyxian government—

"There is no Onyxian government!" Traan shrieked.

"—and they 'requisitioned' the use of nearby transport craft. They're paying any civilians that might be inconvenienced—rather generously might I add. No harm, no foul."

"I can't allow this," Traan said, refusing to board the shuttle. "This is illegal, and it is wrong."

Kerrick turned around, staring intently at Traan, a look of determination on his face that Traan had never seen before. "Until the Empire shows up with guns at the ready and forces these people to make a choice, they are Coalition citizens, despite the state of the Onyxian Commonwealth. The Praetorian Guard is a Coalition entity, and is empowered—in times of crisis—to do just what they're doing now. They don't have to answer to you, ambassador, and I thank the Force for that. I'm going to fulfill my duties as a servant of the Cooperative and the Coalition, and see that the Empire doesn't get one more credit, not one more blaster, not one more glowstick, than is absolutely necessary! You can get onboard, or you can stay here, but I'm going to Ilum, and I'm filling these ships with every gun, ration, droid, power cell, and light bulb that I can find. Choose."

Traan walked silently into the shuttle; the quiet hiss of the closing ramp was the last sound he noticed for quite some time.



Varn

Beta was standing patiently on the diplomatic landing pad reserved for the incoming Iridonian delegation, several Cooperative officials standing to either side of him. He could feel the touch of Smarts' mind, but it was distant, cloudy; the Overseer was indeed busy. No matter; Beta was an expertly designed diplomatic droid, and if the Overseer was too busy to handle this meeting personally, Beta wouldn't have any problems picking up the slack.

But as the Iridonian shuttle glided into place and the ramp began to lower, Beta felt the touch of his master grow stronger once again, and he knew that Smarts had returned his attention to the meeting. Beta heard himself speak in a voice that didn't belong to him as the Iridonian delegation made their way down their shuttle's ramp, and soon, his feet were compelling him toward them, and his hand had extended itself in a sign of greeting.

And so it was that the ship-sized machine known as Smarts engaged himself in yet another facet of the Onyxian Crisis. But far away, on the planet of Cestus, another droid was bowing to the will of Smarts' touch, and Delta was engaged in fierce debate with several dozen X'Ting insects. The Cooperative had set aside massive resources—primarily food—to help fuel a planned mass-expansion of the X'Ting populace, an expansion intended to help them continue the long recovery from the near-extinction they had experienced over a century ago. But like all the members of the Cooperative, the X'Ting had been asked to postpone their own goals in order to help relocate the Onyxian people, and only one of the twelve X'Ting clans was proving difficult to work with.

Elsewhere still, Smarts' mind was touching the unfamiliar brains of several dozen hastily appropriated protocol droids, which were scampering about several ships on or around Amorris, organizing entry vectors for ships and supply points for the swelling tent settlements. The Commonwealth hadn't really even fallen yet, and still Amorris was being flooded by millions of former Onyxian citizens. Smarts dreaded to think what would happen when the real evacuation began.

Events like these were unfolding all throughout Cooperative space, and Smarts was monitoring them all, but that's not to say that his awareness ended there. All throughout the Quelii Sector, Cooperative teams had been dispatched to request aide from neighboring worlds, and among every one of these teams, at least one droid was linked to Smarts by hyperspace relays or hyperwave emitters.

As he assimilated the massive amounts of dada streaming in from worlds all throughout the sector, he set his mind to predicting the best possible course of action, and then, almost wearily, he allowed himself a brief moment silence, of quiet reflection. I was created to be the ultimate tool of war, yet here I am, an ultimate tool of peace. Then the tidal wave of information swept over him again, and he was once more on Varn, and Amorris, within the Kauron asteroid field, and beneath the surface of Cestus, on the distant worlds of distant stars, pleading with friends and allies for relief in such a time of turmoil.

Time melted away, and there was only the task: preserve the people of the Onyxian Commonwealth. The machine called Smarts pushed away the humanity he had fought so hard to attain, and set about the unwanted task of writing the fates of countless souls. Every choice he made could mean a life that was not allowed to be lived, a dream that was not allowed to be dreamt, a future that was not allowed to be had. But these are the choices that must be made, and I am the only one with the capacity to make them.

It was only the opening stage of the evacuation, and already there were so many questions, so many problems, so many fears. No one was saying it, but everyone was worried that the Cooperative wouldn't be able to pull this off, and Smarts was beginning to believe that their worries were well founded.

The Coalition is, at times, a slow-acting beast. Thankfully, there are individuals within it with enough initiative and drive to protect it when action is needed fast.

Specifically, Regrad was the one giving thanks for this as he boarded the Coalition. While he struggled with the political fallout of the disastrous Onyxian crisis, a group he'd hardly noticed until now - the Cooperative - had swooped in to save the day on the ground.

Now that his own troubles were behind him, however, it was time for the Prime Minister to lend his own type of assistance. Ascending to the bridge of his command ship, Regrad barely spared a glance to his crew before saying "The instant we're clear of the station, plot a course for the edge of the occupation zone. Our first stop is Sinsang, so I hope we've taken on all necessary supplies."

"All preparations are ready, my lord," offered one of the Azguardian officers with a bow. "But I must ask, is it wise to bring the Coalition so close to the edge of the Imperial occupation zone?"

"Wise?" Remarked Regrad as he took his seat. "Probably not, no. Then again, when has that ever stopped us? All haste, helmsman.”

The window before them was filled with blue streaks of light, stretching off to infinity as the Coalition jumped to hyperspace. Settling in for the long journey ahead, Regrad pulled up a control panel bolted to his seat and began to run through its’ commands. “So I see my orders have been carried out in full.”

“Yes sir,” the helmsman replied, offering a quick nod to Regrad. “The ship’s crew have also been briefed according to your instructions, and the requested personnel are aboard.”

“Good,” Regrad murmured. “No point in launching an evacuation operation half-assed, is there?” Finding at last the communication controls, Regrad punched a comm frequency into the console. “Now for the difficult part.”

The Minister of Ethics, Viryn Quell, appeared on the viewscreen. He did not look happy - his default expression. “About fucking time.”

“Hello to you too, Viryn,” replied the Prime Minister with a grin. “I await your confirmation for the evacuation mission.”

“And as the Minister of Ethics, I hearby call you a moron for taking this long to get around to it,” Viryn declared. “Seriously, have you been keeping track of the situation out there? It’s a fucking mess!”

“Gee, Viryn,” Regrad remarked, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me all about it? As Prime Minister, I’ve clearly no idea what’s going on.”

“Leave the sarcasm to the experts,” growled Viryn. “The truth of the matter is, the better part of the Onyxian fleet is awol, there’s conflicting reports about what the Imperial fleet’s doing to the occupied worlds, Sinsang isn’t letting in refugees - law and order is totally gone. It’s a moral black hole, a grey zone, a shitstorm of epic proportions. Things are so bad, that we don’t know how bad they are.”

“Which is why, Minister, I have a job for you once you’re done signing off on this expedition. Our intelligence on the Onyxian crisis is bad, but what we do get points to the Cooperative being the main source of relief in the sector. I want you to get into contact with their leadership and help coordinate our efforts from the command tower. I’m told they’re led by... well, a droid.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of him. He’s apparently good at his job, so far as I can tell.”

“So far as you can tell?” said Regrad, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “You’re the Minister of Ethics! How could you not tell?”

“Don’t forget, my secretary’s a droid too,” Viryn muttered. “She might be filtering my mail to make droids look good.”

Regrad, despite the seriousness of his task, couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “A conspiracy in every corner, eh Viryn?”

“It’s human nature.”

“She’s a droid.”

“Yeah, a droid built by humans.”

Shaking his head, Regrad said “Nevermind. Just get in contact with the Cooperative and update them on the arrival of federal relief and evacuation forces. By the time we reach the Onyxian border I’ll want to be in constant communication with the Cooperative and have a full report on their operations.

“Oh, and if you have time? The Sinsangese...”

Minister Quell allowed a look of malevolent satisfaction to spread. “I have a few choice words for their generous hosting of the Onyxians...”

“Excellent,” said Regrad, crossing his arms. “So long for now, Viryn. When we next meet, I will be in no-man’s land. Wish me luck.”

“I wish you left days ago,” snapped Viryn. “Still, someone has to save their skins. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

"Members of the Praetorian Guard sent this to us less than an hour ago," Ethan Vang reported to the small gathering as the message ended. "It has begun."

"Looks like we made it just in time," Kerrick Arkanus said smugly, a strange look of victory appearing on his face.

"Our only advantage now is that comm signals travel faster than starships," Traan Shi said grimly, glancing at the only droid in the room. "Overseer, are we ready?"

The droid moved away from the wall it had had its back to, stepping toward the center of the room. "We have navigational buoys deployed throughout the Varn and Amorris systems; all available resources have been diverted to Amorris, and are being distributed to supply stations across the planet. Our main concern now is in identifying and cataloguing these people.

"We've isolated those already on the planet from the settlement areas future arrivals will be sent to. We need a means of identifying these people as they set foot on Amorris' surface, and I think we have one."

Beta stepped a few paces forward, approaching the holoprojector Ethan had just used to play the audio of the Imperial broadcast. With the press of a few buttons, the image of two droids appeared; the first was a small, spherical droid, while the second looked like little more than an arm with an eye. "The first sets of these are en route from Cestus to Amorris right now. One is a self-propelled holorecorder, with some slight programming modifications; the other is a simple, portable medical assistant droid, designed to take DNA samples and perform rudimentary body scans.

"We've designated a few hundred large, open areas across Amoriss' surface as landing sights." Beta entered a new string of commands, and an idealized version of one of these landing sights appeared within the holofield. A fence outlined its perimeter, with several gateways located at equidistant intervals. "Cooperative Defense Force personnel will secure and patrol the perimeters of these areas, ensuring that new arrivals exit through appropriate gateways. At these gateways, the holorecorder droids will take facial scans of each arriving individual, while the medical droid will take DNA samples and make casual health scans."

"'Casual health scans'?" Kerrick asked sardonically.

"We're not trying to be thorough, Commander, because we can't. Our primary goal is to identify highly contagious pathogens and eliminate them before we have any epidemics on our hands. There's no need to compound our disaster."

"So, how does this help us," Traan asked, obviously wanting to move this meeting along.

Beta turned his attention to Traan. "The facial scan, DNA sample, health information, and individual's given name will be tagged with an identification number and sent to two locations: an identification database, and a simple datapad."

"Datapad?" This time it was Ethan who spoke up, and the tone in his voice said that he was worried about what he was likely about to hear.

"Yes. Each arrival will be issued a datapad with their own name, likeness, DNA profile, and temporary identification number."

"And where are we getting billions of datapads from?"

"Do you know how extraordinarily commonplace datapads are, Mr. Arkanus? It's virtually like asking for billions of sheets of flimsiplast."

"But it's not; it's like asking for billions of datapads."

"When you concider that Cestus manufactures datapads at a rate of approximately fifty million a day, under normal working conditions, I don't think we'll have too much of a problem. My efficiency, Mr. Arkanus, is not diminished by a decreased timetable. Rest assured: I won't be sending you to Valinor for datapads." The comment forced an involuntary smile from Kerrick.

"But is it going to work?" Said a new voice, as Davik Cole moved cautiously away from the wall he had been leaning against, obviously feeling out of place.

"There's only one way to find out," Beta responded ominously.

"What about everything else," Traan asked. "Food? Water? Shelter?" Traan paused for a moment. "Hygienic issues?"

"For the short-term, they'll sleep in ships and tents, and use the vessels' refreshers. Water can be readily filtered from Amorris' oceans, lakes, and rivers. Food is a potential problem, but we've managed to assemble a fairly large quantity, with more coming in every day, and more sources being acquired constantly; however, we want to start producing it ourselves as quickly as possible.

"And this, good friends, may be the best news of the day. Commodore Blakeley of Halmad has managed to convince his government to send us surplus stores of both food, and farming equipment. The grains grown on Halmad are ideal for many climate areas of Amorris, and with the help of the new Ryn nation, we have everything we need to begin cultivating farmlands immediately."

"Ryn WHAT?!" Kerrick yelled.

"Escuse me, what was that?" Traan asked politely, managing to remain slightly more composed than Kerrick.

A noise issued from the droid that sounded peculiarly like a chuckle.



Amorris, Orbit

"No, no, NO! That goes there. . . That goes there!" The group of seven Ryn were all huddled around a large display screen, one of them yelling frantically as he reached with some difficulty to move around a few of the small red markers that littered the screen's surface. Athan straightened up, grabbing a datapad clipped to his belt and checking it with the display on the screen. "Entry corridor C-7, exit corridor G-2. Right."

"See, I told you! Hah!" One of the Ryn shouted excitedly at another, a smug look covering his face as he let out another laugh.

"If you could, for a moment," Athan said seriously, "remember that there are lives at stake here, that'd be great." He turned and walked away, shaking his head in disappointment. On one hand, he couldn't really blame them; what could very well be the most monumental event in Ryn history since the loss of their long-forgotten homeworld had taken place less than a day ago, when the elders of Athan's clan had officially created the first recorded Ryn nation with the signing of a charter before the Combined Council of the Cooperative. But on the other hand, there was a job to do, and now more than ever, they needed to make sure they did it right.

Athan stopped to look out of the ship's viewport, just able to make out the flashing lights of a few of the nearest navigational beacons that now littered space around Amorris. With a hastily-conjured orbital traffic control center that consisted of nothing more than a large science ship filled with slicer droids, incoming vessels would need all the help they could get to reach the planet safely.

Athan became aware of a set of approaching footsteps. He turned to meet the new arrival, and recognized him as one of the human crewmen still stationed onboard the ship. "Sir, we've just received a hail from a convoy of Halmad freighters," The man said, handing Athan a datapad.

"It's just Athan, crewman," Athan flashed the young man a friendly smile, then looked down at the timestamp on the datapad's open file. "Oh, my. I better get moving." And with that, Athan was off, shouting a few last orders to several people as he made his way out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, he was standing in one of the warm, dry grasslands that dominated almost an entire hemisphere of Amorris, arriving just in time to see the Halmad freighters touch down. All throughout the area, small shuttles and transports were landing, releasing a horde of Ryn workers. Athan floated forward on a small hover pad, closing the distance between himself and the now-stationary Halmad freighters in only a few seconds. He jumped lightly to the ground and continued toward a small, military-style shuttle that had landed among the freighters.

As he approached, the shuttle's ramp extended and a tall, white-haired human in full military dress stepped out, offering Athan a firm salute. Athan stopped, transfixed, staring at the man, unsure what to do. Finally, he managed: "I mean no disrespect, Commodore, but my people haven't served in a military at any time in recorded history."

Commodore Blakeley lowered his hand, looking disappointed, but thankfully not offended. "I was under the impression the Praetorian Guard would be overseeing the relocation efforts here on Amorris, and all related on-site projects."

"Uhh. . ." Athan was suddenly and unavoidably forced to acknowledge something he should have realized long ago: though his people were now citizens of the Cooperative, there was very little any of them really knew about the nation itself, or the larger Coalition it was a member of. "I'm just here to make sure my men know what they're doing, Commodore. I'm not very high up in the grand scheme of things; I just do what I'm told, and don't ask questions I don't want answers to."

Hundreds of droids were now pouring from the Halmad ships, carrying out large, partly-disassembled sections of all types of farming equipment. The commodore gestured toward a newly deposited stack of components, and Athan signaled several nearby Ryn to join them. "Farming is the oldest occupation in human history," The commodore said casually. "It accommodates the most basic need of all organic life, and is fairly simple in concept. You plant a seed, you water it, you watch it grow, and then you harvest it. So simple, and yet so vital. Wars have raged, nations have fallen, and entire species have been extinguished because of the simple act of farming, and the unforeseen obstacles that have arisen when intelligent beings sought to corral and contain the forces of nature.

"We will, of course, be leaving experienced farmers and workers to help ensure that your men get the training they need."

"The Cooperative is sending all the farmers they can find, here, so your men won't be working with totally inexperienced people," Athan said, and it seemed to offer some comfort to the commodore, as he reflexively cast a venomous look at the small group of Ryn who had gathered around the stack of supplies.

"Very well, then," The Halmad man said, returning his attention to Athan, a look of slight indecision on his face, and then—having made up his mind—he extended his hand to Athan.

Athan, who had been fully aware of the apparent discomfort the older human was having at being in such close proximity to so many Ryn, smiled appreciatively, and shook the commodore's hand. "Good day, Commodore. The people of the Coalition, the Commonwealth, the Cooperative, and the Ryn Nation thank you from the deepest reaches of our souls."

The commodore was unsure how to respond. "Yes, well, we owed the Cooperative, in a way; this should take care of that." He paused for a moment, still looking a little confused. "Did you say Ryn [T]Nation?[/I]"

Athan smiled. "Yes, Sir, I did."

Commodore Blakeley nodded in understanding, and turning to leave, mumbled quietly about "Leave it up to the Cooperative," and Athan was sure he heard something about a "giant droid." The smile on Athan's face burst into a laugh, and he turned and walked toward his fellow Ryn, feeling a pride in his people that he hadn't felt in a long time.



Amorris, Settlement 002

"Good people, good people," A middle-aged man in a Cooperative Defense Force uniform was pleading, staring out at a group of over a thousand gathered Onyxians. "Please, if everyone would just calm down, this would—" Some kind of food tray flew by, inches from the CDF officer's head.

"We demand appropriate treatment, or we demand that you let us leave!" The shrill voice had come from the crowd.

"Now, now, you're in no position to be making demands." That didn't help. Neither did the chuckle that accompanied it.

As the enraged crowd threatened to surge forward and drag the plump man from the stage he was standing on, another figure stepped forward, whispered into the man's ear, and then gestured for him to leave the stage. The newcomer pulled back his cloak and began speaking: "Good people of the former Onyxian Commonwealth, I am Ambassador Traan Shi of the Cooperative of Systems. I am hear to assure you that the Cooperative has taken every available measure to ensure that all of your needs are met. This is a difficult time, and it is absolutely essential that we move forward in a spirit of cooperation, and good faith."

"We want off this rock!" Another voice yelled.

Traan smiled, a sort of sad, pitiable smile. "And where would you go? And how would you get there?"

"We won't be herded around like animals!" A new voice rang out. Apparently, this particular crowd didn't feel like listening today.

"We must obtain your identities now, before the bulk of the Onyxian evacuees arrive, or it may be weeks—even months—before anyone even knows that you are here."

"We have identity cards! Onyxian identity cards!"

"The Onyxian Commonwealth no longer exists," Traan responded flatly, firmly.

"Long live the Commonwealth!"

"The Empire has come to Onyx; the Commonwealth is dead. You are citizens of the Galactic Coalition, and dependents of the Cooperative of Systems." Traan's voice was growing louder and more forceful, on the verge of yelling. "We will feed you, we will clothe you, we will shelter you, and we will identify you. You will remain here, under our care and supervision, until such a time as we have the means to transport you to the Coalition world of your choice, provided said world is willing to accept you. Go back to your families and friends, and stop disrupting us from our work; it's your people we're trying to protect and preserve." Kerrick was pretty sure that he hadn't helped matters any, but at least he'd tried. He stepped off the stage, leaving the angry crowd to do as they pleased."

"I thought we were trying to keep a low profile," Kerrick Arkanus said a moment later as they walked away. Kerrick dropped his own hood. "What are we doing here, anyway? We should get out of here."

Traan turned to Kerrick and gave him a look that closely resembled one Kerrick himself had worn not very long ago, on Valacar. "I will not leave this place until I know that it does not need me." Traan turned and began to walk off. "You can come, or you can go. Choose." With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Kerrick fell in step beside Traan.

"Now," Kerrick asked, "what's this I hear about the Praetorian Guard taking over the relocation?"

Traan continued walking, showing no sign he had heard Kerrick. "They've offered their help, but they'll be under the oversight of the Cooperative, as long as they're in our space and on our worlds." Traan looked over, and seeing Kerrick's unconvinced face, continued: "The Onyxians trust them; it'll be good for them to see some familiar faces, so to speak. And besides, we can use all the help we can get."

"There's something else, isn't there?" Kerrick said accusingly.

"Well, the Praetorian Guard was based in Commonwealth space."

"And," Kerrick said forcefully.

"And we've agreed to allow them to establish a temporary base of operations within Cooperative space, until someone a little higher up in the Coalition sees fit to relocate them."

Kerrick didn't look happy at all. He had been responsible for helping to shape the Cooperative Defense Force, and while recent events had seriously delayed his plans, and had left the Cooperative in a dangerously weak position militarily, he didn't like the idea of some Coalition order of super-soldiers setting up base in his back yard. Traan couldn't help but feel that there was a lot more to Kerrick than he let on. He claimed to be a military man, and the Overseer had supported that claim, but Kerrick had just sort of appeared out of nowhere, and no one seemed to know much about him.

"Ah, here we are," Traan said suddenly, breaking the moment of silence that had fallen. A massive, segmented, collapsible building stood before them, the kind often used by any number of shady organizations that find the need to move frequently and leave little evidence of their presence. A small sign had been driven into the ground next to the door, reading "Onyxian Relocation Central Command."

The two walked into the building, down a short hallway, and into the largest room in the structure, where they were met immediately by a flood of activity. Men, women, bugs, Ryn, and a creature that looked peculiarly like a cow, were running about, shouting orders, reading incoming messages, and passing around various copies of high-priority what-nots and so-forths from. . . everywhere. No one seemed to have noticed the arrival of the most senior ambassador of the Cooperative of Systems.

"Excuse me," Traan said loudly, but calmly. There was no indication that anyone had heard. "Excuse me!" Nothing. "May I have your attention please!" They continued on, ignoring him.

A loud, crashing bang filled the room coming from somewhere behind Traan, and he turned—along with everyone in the room—to see Kerrick Arkanus, the remnants of a large plant pot at his feet. Kerrick shook the soil off his shoes and gestured to Traan; the expression on his face said just what Traan wanted to hear: "You have the floor."

"Thank you, Commander," Traan said sharply, then turned to face the agitated crowd of workers. "The time has come; the hour is now; they are here." As if on cue, the room filled with the beeps and buzzes of countless incoming messages. "You have about fifteen minutes to get your act together, and then the first wave of a storm that is likely to continue and intensify over the next two weeks will have arrived."

Several of the people tried to return to their work; the ceaseless beeping of their workstations were calling to them. "DON'T MOVE," Traan roared, showing a ferocity no one had seen since long before his time with the Cooperative. His voice dropped to an abnormally quiet level, barely audible over the background noise, but he spoke with an earnestness as unfamiliar as the ferocity it replaced. "This is it. Can you feel it? We live and die by the promises we make, and the oaths we cannot fulfill. You're all that we have; this task is yours, and yours alone. Will we fail, or will we succeed?

"We are not ready, that much is certain, but I must ask you: are you willing? Are you willing, in the midst of your unreadiness, to accept the fates of countless souls? Are you willing to prove the value and commitment of the Cooperative of Systems, or fail in the unready attempt? Are you willing to save a society from extinction, or watch as our nation dies, holding the corpse of theirs?

"Today may very well be the day that the Cooperative rises to greatness, or falls to anonymity. This is a burden we cannot bear, but we have chosen to bear it, regardless. Will you?

"Choose!" Traan shouted the final word, a shout that reverberated through the cavernous room for several seconds. He waited patiently to see what would happen.

"So long as there are those who stand for justice; so long as there are those who believe in freedom; so long as there are those who would choose death over deceit, hope over fear, and mercy over vengeance; then I will not fail." The eyes of the room had shifted from Traan to a point somewhere behind him and to the left, to a voice the ambassador had never heard before; a solemn, worn voice that carried a gravity Traan had rarely encountered. A man stepped forward, a man Traan Shi had never seen before.

"I will not fail!" Kerrick Arkanus yelled to the motionless crowd, his hand clenching into a fist by his side. "I WILL NOT FAIL!" His balled fist moved upward, coming to rest on his heart, as if swearing some secret oath to some unseen master. "We will not fail." His voice had become quiet, his hand dropped back to his side, and before Traan's eyes, the man he knew returned, and the stranger who had spoken was no longer with them.

Kerrick was just standing there, his head bowed slightly, staring at the floor. Seizing the moment, certain that it was what Kerrick had wanted, Traan stepped hurriedly forward, shouting orders to the few people he recognized, gesturing to others, pulling random datapads out of people's hands, checking to see what they were supposed to be doing, and then shooing them on their way. The room filled with action once more, just as loud, just as chaotic, but somehow more meaningful, more fulfilling. Traan stood in the midst of them all, running about, issuing orders, making suggestions, overruling dozens of the ridiculous commands and requests that came trickling in from far-off leaders who knew nothing of the struggle these loyal servants of freedom were fighting on behalf of their brothers and sisters, whom they had never met.

It had begun; the storm had come to the Cooperative.

Onyx

A pair of shady starfighters dropped out of hyperspace like wraiths. Silently, the pair of Deathsabers broke their flight pair formation and veered in opposite directions. Their pilots checked their passive and active sensors as they neared the former capitol of the Onyxian nation. In the frequently choked space of the planet, these fighters had found a rare area of open space. Each one transmitted their sensor reports to the edge of the system. Seconds later, two full squadrons of the Confederation’s Merchant Fleet dropped out of hyperspace with the Galleon Providence in the lead.

“Atten-hut!”

The heels of the crewmen snapped to attention as Captain Tobias icily stepped onto the bridge of the Providence. He glanced from side-to-side, slowly nodded, and marched over to his command chair. Ingham hesitated, then marched over to the one of sensor consoles and adeptly worked with the controls. The Budpock native snarled.

“Have these people ever heard of having an efficient traffic control? These have to be the worse spacelanes I’ve ever seen in all of my travels. How we’re this far in is a miracle,” complained the officer, “what is this open space anyways?”

“Ah, sir,” reported an officer, “we’re getting a demand to clear out of this area immediately. Supposedly it is reserved for military vessels, and not cargo ships.”

“We’re both,” reasoned the officer irritably, “which means we get at least half of this space. Heck, I don’t know why we’re here trying to save these people. I mean, we’re not part of the Coalition anymore...”

The crew exchanged several exasperated glances. Their captain was frequently irritable and hard, but he was a good captain and negotiator…most of the time. This wasn’t most of the time in more ways than one. The galaxy was in more turmoil than usual with the recent turn of events with Joren’s defeat and the annexation of his Commonwealth. The Confederation had just seceded from the Coalition, which members of the crew had both praised and derided, smiled and cried. It was dynamic and emotional for many of them; and the “drama”, as Tobias called it, generated by these events had nearly driven the Providence’s captain insane. An officer hesitated and ventured to talk to his superior.

“Sir, what shall I say to them?”

“Tell them that we’re moving as fast as they can. And if they complain, we’ll raze their buildings with a good set of bombers. Make it better than that though. More colourful…and polite. Something like: I am respectfully inclined to decline your request to get the hell out of the way…”

“Ah, yes sir.”

“Full speed ahead.”

“Aye sir.”

The two dozen ovoid ships cruised slowly towards Onyx, as fast as their sublight drives could take them. In many ways, a Styria-class Galleon was like a turtle. It was relatively small with a round body, with good protection against larger foes, and abysmal speed. And like a turtle, the design annoyed an already irritated, and impatient, Captain Tobias.

“Can’t you make the ship go any faster?” demanded an excaberated Tobias.

“I’m sorry sir, but we’ve already transferred all energy possible to the drives. If we put any more into it, we risk burning out our drives.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Tobias grunted and reluctantly settled into his command chair. The Confederate officer began to idly drum his fingers on his armrest as the galleons edged closer to Onyx. Finally, he turned to his cargo master.

“All of the cargo spaces have been cleared out, right?”

“Yes captain,” reported the officer, “every hold has been cleared out as ordered. The Blackwell and other escort carriers are still holding their fighter complements as ordered.”

“Good,” replied Tobias.

“Sir, may I ask you a question?” asked the cargo master.

“Besides that one?”

“Yes.”

“And that one?”

“I was wondering why we exactly are here in the first place?”

“Because we were ordered to,” replied the captain hesitatingly, “ours is not to wonder why, just to do and cry.”

“Sir?”

Tobias stared at the man. “This is going to bore me to tears. And I expect that it will you to. I have no official reason for us being here to give you. I can only speculate. But I’d bet it is something political. Kriffin bureaucrats…”

The Providence heeled over to plunge into the atmosphere, leading the line of Styria’s to the surface below. Pairs of Galleons parted from the line to make their way across the globe to their destinations. According to plans provided to the Confederate convoy, there were multiple evacuation zones where civilians and their goods could be picked up. A pair of Styrias would land at each one and cram as many people and their goods as quickly as possible before taking them over to Iridonia. From there, the convoy ships would split apart to ferry the refugees to various Cooperative Worlds. After that was finished, they would coalesce at Iridonia and jump to another Onyxian world and repeat the procedure until either all of the refugees were evacuated, or Confederate orders came through to pull the Merchant Fleet back to home space.

It was a task that Tobias did not relish.

Contrary to the widely popular belief of the inhabitants of this wretched and rebellious sector of space, the Empire was very much in control. It started before the moment evacuation began. It started before the moment Prime Minister Regrad agreed to the terms set out by his benevolent Emperor, Daemon Hyfe. It started the moment the fleet, under Grand Admiral Desaria crossed the borders in response to the Billbringi attack by the rogue state.

The Empire was granting two weeks for those that wished to leave to actually leave the area that was now Imperial.

And many it seemed were wanting to take advantage of the Galactic Emperor's benevolence.

Some, it seemed wished to take advantage of it. And it was those people that would prove disasterous for the rest.



Onyx

Imperial Occupation Temporary Headquarters


"Sir?" Grand Admiral Desaria's fleet had been stationed at the new temporary headquarters and the former installations of the Commonwealth Military were now firmly in the hands of the thousand of soldiers who came through the Gree Hypergate from the Imperial fortress world of Asation to Onyx.

It was what allowed the Empire to rapidly gain control of the world during the instant of Regrad's capitulation for a refusal of the Coalition Prime Minister would have seen a nuclear holocaust of planetwide preportions from within the defense sphere of the former Commonwealth Capital. Such weapons of mass destruction launched from the Hyperpgate would have destroyed the world ...or at the very least blasted the world back to an age it hadn't seen for several eons.

Orders from the Grand Admiral were to observe those fleeing and not to prevent the exodus.

But the orders were very specific.

Those that destroyed the property of the Empire were no longer non-combatants and were no longer desiring the benevolence of his glorious majesty the Emperor Hyfe.

Those that took Imperial property with them were considered looters and thieves and no longer protected under the benevolent agreement settled between the Prime Minister and the Galactic Emperor.

As Telen Desaria looked over the reports coming in from all worlds under Imperial observation, he frowned.

With the millions of people in the space between borders, a group called the Cooperative were wanting to play games?

Herr Major General Grevalt looked at his Grand Admiral, the medals on the man's chest as impressive as his bearing and stood ramrod straight.

Desaria gave a single nod.

A small gesture to be sure but one who's meaning was crystal clear.

As the Grand Admiral moved on, Major General Grevalt nodded to the comm officers.

"Send this message to the Cooperative and all those fleeing the Occupation Zone. All property within the former Onyxian Commonwealth is considered Imperial property. The benevolence of his majesty Emperor Hyfe in allowing the former members of this rogue state the choice to leave will not be marred by self glorifying and greedy individuals. Any destruction of Imperial property during the evacuation will be paid for two-fold by the offending parties. There have been noted damages to the facilities on several worlds. The Empire's value assessment will be sent to the offending parties for payment upon receipt or we will seize any and all assets of those parties by force. The Coalition nor the Empire will stand for yet another region gone rogue operating outside the parameters their government has dictated it will abide by.

Such willful destruction intentional or through gross neglegence or incompletence will not be tolerated. Your compliance is expected or you will be expelled forcefully."

Major General Grevalt finished the message and a soldier frowned walking up.
"So, who's going to be the Governor over the Zone?"

"My money is on Desaria but until the orders come through... "

"The 13th, 11th and 2nd are arriving in-sector tomorrow."

Gaising – Sinsang’s Moon

You could cut the air with a knife.

The command station in Gaising was tense as various personnel went from station to station, whispering and murmuring to one another. None had dared to raise about a whisper since the incident. They were waiting, and praying, that there was a response of compliance. Many feared what Captain Wu’s response would be if the Onyxians refused to listen.

The whole time, Chang Wu hadn’t even moved from where he was. He stood before the hologram of the system that showed where all the markers of the ships in the system were. There was no expression on his face, as he watched. Like everyone else, he was waiting for those Onyxian ships to start moving and clearing the shipping lanes. Waiting for them to back down. Unlike many of the others, he didn’t wear his emotions as openly.

“Sir, I’ve got a representative of the Onyxians blocking the lanes on the line. A ‘Dean Doran’…” Tseng said, cutting through the room as all eyes suddenly focused on him. The Captain slowly turned his head and gaze towards the young man. Tseng quickly was accessing the database, and in a moment had the information he wanted on the person in question. “He was a member of the Onyxian High Council.”

So one of the highest ranked Onyxians who could make their way to Sinsangese space was a memember of the trouble makers. The thought caused Captain Wu’s expression to darken. He went back to the command council with a sigh. A press of a button and the hologram of an older man, in his fifties and with greying hair appeared. His dress was rather formal, and he stood with a professional air around him.

“I am Captain Chang Wu of the People of Sinsang, standing commander of Sinsangese Space. You and your people have been requested to remove yourself from Sinsangese orbit and I see you have chosen to not heed our demand for your fleet to move.” Chang Wu said, cutting off whatever this Dean Doran wanted to say. “Now this is your last warning. Move or we WILL act.”

“Captain, this is against Coalition law!” The man shouted, trying to get past the Captain. But he knew these politicians. They could make murder sound like a sweet and necessary thing. Chang Wu wouldn’t even give him the chance.

“Actually, Mister Daren, we are fully within our legal rights. You were expelled from the Coalition. You aren’t our responsibility, nor shall we be responsible for the lives you put at risk with your illegal blockade. Prime Minister Regrad of the Coalition allowed you to be occupied. He MADE you a Rogue State. Which means you’re not just refugees, you’re immigrants and thus must come under consideration for eligibility. Until ANY of you are deemed worthy, you shall remove yourself from orbit of Sinsang Proper.”

“Captain, all that we ask is for fair treatment. To talk to an ambassador concerning refug-”

“Suggested places to wait would be Duzhing. There are several colonies around the planet, as well as Kanagawa Station. Traffic there is light so it is far safer for yourselves and others there.”

With that, Chang Wu just turned off the comm. channel, to the eyes of his staff. There was a brief moment of shock. It might have been less than a second, but it felt like an eternity. That their commander just told off a diplomatic envoy. Many began to wonder exactly what his plan was.

“I will be in my ready room. Inform me of any changes, Lieutenant Tseng.” With that, Chang Wu walked to a small room connected to the central command center. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He knew exactly what he had just done, but it had to be done for Sinsang. These people needed to be moved or else no vessels would be able to circulate, and vessels that ignored the broadcasted warning risked running into more civilian ships. Those ships would be moved, one way or another.

-----------------------------

Bei-diang – Capital of Sinsang

“WHAT!?!” Chairman Hung Chao yelled as he slammed his fist into his desk, his face nearly red in anger. He glared at the unflinching hologram of the Captain standing on the small metal disc. “These Onyxians dare think that we shall just let them land! Have they any idea of the situation on Sinsang? We don’t have barely enough room for the commercial traffic. We don’t have anywhere to put a fleet!”

“I have given my last warning for them to disperse, sir. I am going to proceed to clear them with force.” Wu said, with no hint of regret or remorse even touching his voice.

“Captain, you will create a planetary incident. The Coalition will not stand for you to start shooting up Onyxian vessels.” Chao said sternly, as he sat back in his chair glaring at the Captain. “I want those lanes clear, and we’re working on a solution.”

“Chairman, I only wish to send in my ships equipped with ion canons to disable the ships and tow them to safety. We have an established procedure to not negotiate with terrorists. We will not show the galaxy that the Sinsangese will bow to these kinds of tactics. It is the only way to maintain order, Chairman.” Captain Wu said calmly, keeping his face the very definition of seriousness. “They are nothing better than terrorists. They’re actions have cut us off from the support of the Coalition, and now they blockade our planet and expect hospitality. If they do not move, we shall move them.”

Chao sat there, tapping his round figures in thought. He knew that this would not endear him to the Coalition but he was beginning to care less and less for the Coalition every day. And with their new found power as one of the only intact industrial worlds within the Coalition, he knew they had power. These Onyxians offered a solid threat to the Sinsangese economy, and their safety.

The Onyxians were unstable. They had proven that with that suicidal attack on Billbringi and for no other reason than what? What the Empire did within their own borders? The first concern should’ve been to ensure the productivity of the Coalition. To finish that war against the Dragons once and for all. The attack on Billbringi has, in most rights, killed the Coalition. It is divided and now Sinsang is on the other side of the galaxy from any other member.

“Give them one last warning, and if the refused to move then arrest the leaders of this operation. If they still refuse to move then….” Chao said as his head looked down, not wanting to murmur it. He knew that step would likely sever what thought was left in the Coalition that the Sinsangese shared any of the Azguardian values beyond democracy.

“I shall rally several SSF teams for the operation, Chairman. We shall act within the hour.” Captain Wu said, with a nod of his head as his hologram shimmered and then faded from existence. For a moment, there was silence and stillness in Chao’s office as he thought about the choice he had made.

At least it will prove to the voters that he has a spine.

---------------------

Beta-class ETR3 Assault Transport S-003

The pilot moved along the command panel, hitting a series of button. The ship made its way through the void slowly towards its target, weaving its way along the civilian traffic that had filled surrounded their planet. They have two Y-Wings flying escort, in preparation for the mission ahead. Their mission was a simple one: To capture the leader of this illegal blockade. The hope was, without him the rest would realize they mean business.

Their target was the corvette Valiance where Dean Doran, a former member of the Onyxian’s High Council could be found. He was getting people to block civilian traffic in and out of Sinsang until they were allowed to speak to a diplomat. The problem is, their pursuit was a by the book act of terrorism. And it was the job of the SSF to take care of such acts.

Sergant Masaru of the SSF walked into the small command center and grabbed a small microphone. Masaru wasn’t a tall man, but he was quite wide. Some would mistake his girth for fatness but it was just the way he was built. He was nearly all muscle, and was known for quick operations. He had the highest success rate with the lowest casualty rate in service with the SSF. With a nod from the pilot, he pressed a button on the microphone.

“This is the Police!” Sergant Masaru began, in a stern and firm voice. “You and your crew are wanted for acts of terrorism against the people of Sinsang. Stand down and prepare to be boarded.”

There was a moment of silence.

There was a hope that the Onyxians would see logic. Unlike so many others in the past, that they would simply stand down and let themselves get hauled away to prevent any violence. To show that they truly wished to be diplomatic.

“Sir,” The pilot said while double checking the readouts to make sure they were correct. “They’ve lowered their shields.”

With a heavy sigh of relief, Sergeant Masaru motioned for the pilot to move in. He moved into the back to the teams waiting for the status on the situation. He gave the team a look over and a nod. A slight smile came on to his face as he looked at the men. It was the best moment for any of them when they could do their job and not have to do some violence.

“Those guys knew they couldn’t stand a chance against the SSF and just gave in.” Masaru said with a bit of a smirk as there was a chuckle from the men. “But don’t let your guard down, we do this by the book. We don’t know if they’ll have a troop of armed men sitting there waiting to mow us down. So stay frosty.”

Slowly, the old transport made its way towards the corvette. The pilot guiding them in and yet still there was no response. These men were used to people attempting to escape, guns blazing. It was the way of the Outer Rim. With so many places where they can actually run to not far away, it made that option open to the different pirates and ruffians that tried to cause chaos surface-side.

And it made the SSF always on edge. This situation was no different.

The men took this chance to once over their gear one last time. Then, with a lurch, the assault transport activate its magnetic locks and began to pressurize its airlock. With a hiss, air began to fill the gap that connected the two vessels. The team watched the red light intensely. Then, the hissing gradually stopped and the light turned green. The hatch opened, and the team was on the move.

Rifles levelled, they were surprised to find a man standing right at the hatch. He was an older man, greying, and dressed like a professional. But there was no ceremony, nor was there any mercy. One of the team quickly threw him against the wall, patting him down for weapons while the rest covered the two ways the hall goes.

“He’s clean.” Said the one officer, as another took out a datapad and gave the man a once over.

“He matches the profile. Cuff him and lets move out.” And within a moment, the man was cuffed, and they were falling back to the assault shuttle. It was painfully obvious the man wanted to get himself hauled off, but that wasn’t their business. They had their orders, and they would leave the reasoning up to the politicians.

“We’re clear.” Sergeant Masaru called out when all the team was behind the airlock. The shuttle’s airlock closed and the shuttle began to disengage from the corvette. Their orders were to extract and return to Bei-diang, where a team would be waiting for Dean Doran.

The trip back was long and tense. They knew that every ship in the Onyxian fleet that orbited Sinsang had seen what they’d just down. How easy would it be for those with weapons to force the shuttle to stop? The only thing the Sinsangese could do was start firing into a civilian fleet. The Onyxians still had numerous warships, and if they sent out a distress call the whole thing could quickly turn to a blood bath.

But people in distressed situations never act with logic, they just do what makes sense in the short term. Something to help them in the instant but not the next. This fact is what members of any police force knew well, for it was what caused most of the crime they had to deal with. It’s why a man would steal a car, or shoot a man who threatened to jail them. It’s why they ran in bloodied pursuits, or why they made desperate last stands.

And the whole trip, they waited for someone to make that deadly mistake.

------------------------

Bei-diang – Capital of Sinsang

Chao sat at his desk, waiting patiently. He stared out at the cityscape, thinking of the future of his planet and his people. A news report was playing over a speaker on his desk, talking about the blockade and getting people from the street to voice their opinions. Thoughts varied from sending in the space equivalent of a riot team, to rotating out vessels to let the Onyxians on the planet.

There was a knocking at his door, and with a click of a button the radio turned off. He spun around his chair to look at the door. “Come in.” Chao said sternly, as the door opened.

A couple of members of the SSF stood side by side, with Dean Doran in between the two of them. The man seemed rather ruffed up after his trip. His suit was a bit dishevelled and his hair was no longer as well groomed, but he was still easily recognizable.

“Thank-you gentleman. But I’d like to speak with him in private.” Chao said simply, and with a nod the two officers left the room. When the door was closed, Chao quickly brought out a couple of glasses and filled the pair with water. “It is… unfortunate that it has come to this, Mister Doran. But we cannot afford to appear weak in the situation we’re in.”

The was a moment while Dean looked at the glass of water presented. He took advantage of this chance to finally piece his thoughts together on the subject, and then he turned a cold gaze up to Chao. “Chairman, I just had to leave my home to be destroyed, and pillaged. Turned into a place to wage war against what we have long since stood for. To serve the Imperial war machine. Then I get here, to find my people denied sheltered by our supposed allies. Then I got thrown about like some common criminal.”

“I BELIEVE I AM DUE TO SOME ANGER!” Dean yelled as he jumped from his chair, slamming his hands against the desk and giving Chao the coldest gaze. And Dean couldn’t believe the reaction he got from Chao. A small smirk on Chao’s face, and a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Admirable, truly.” Chao said as he took a sip of his water. “But your passions fall on deaf ears. When I took this position as Chairman, I took it for the defence of Sinsang and her prosperity. Now, you must come to terms with my position when a large number of Onyxians come in and demand control. If I were to give into demand, who knows how much further I could be pushed? Hrm?”

Dean’s expression darkened as he returned to his seat. Chao’s smile broadened as he resumed discussing his point.

“You are one of the highest ranking Onyxians left in the galaxy. And I promise you, I would not let Joren have any say in my part of the galaxy after what he did in your part of the Galaxy. You were a mediator of sorts according to this. If nothing more, politically you acted as a neutral.” Chao almost laughed, a small chuckle all that escaped from him. “Well, at least more neutral than your compatriots. And it is for this, I am willing to speak with you.”

“Then why not just talk to me?” Dean Doran hissed, the animosity for his treatment blatant in his tone and body language.

“Never did much politicking in the Commonwealth, did you?” Chao bemusedly asked, though it was just rhetorical. “You blockaded my planet. What strength would it show if I gave into your demands? I do not know how things were in the Commonwealth, but piracy is still quite a problem in this part of the rim. I cannot go and start giving into these kinds of demands. But as far as the people know, you’re in some cell being interrogated.”

Dean went silent as he looked at the floor, as realization swept over him of how willing Chao was to political manoeuvre. He was willing to take the gamble with all their lives, just to keep up some form of an image. Not just for the now, but for the future.

“Now Mister Doran, I have been scheming of some solution for what to do with you and your people. I fully understand that you come with nothing, and that’s why I make the choices I do. What value is it to me to spend the money on the Onyxians? To create a political cell on my world that will be so heavily opposed to the Empire?” Chao asked the man, eyeing him critically. Once more, it was rhetorical and just to emphasize his point. “We trade extensively with them, and with your Commonwealths poor choices Sinsang is now far from any Coalition support. Our only hope for survival is to keep on good terms with the Empire, and unfortunately for your people that includes Bhindi Drayson and her protectorate. I do not care how readily your people were to war with the Empire, but I will NOT have that kind of thinking threatening the security of my world and my people.”

“So you plan to just turn us away? Have us try to run through Imperial space to get to the Western provinces?” Dean asked, sounding less agitated but more annoyed. Another small laugh was elicited from Chao as he shook his head slowly.

“Do you think so little of me?” Chao laughed out, waving his hand at the comment made. “To throw away the favour and gratitude of so many people? To throw away the increased productivity they could provide? No. You will receive your help. But not on Sinsang. I do not know where yet, but I will let you know when I do.”

“And what would you have us do until then? Simply float around and wait!?!” Dean snapped, offended by how easily Chao could shrug them off.

“Yes, and outside of Sinsangese orbit. You are disrupting our productivity and some of our larger clients would be annoyed by this slow-down.” Chao said matter-of-factly, causing Dean to just stop getting caught off guard. “And if you are wondering why, it is simple. Someone must lead the Onyxians, and if you obey you shall have the reward of leading them. A job much like the position you once held.”

“And if I refuse?” Dean asked hesitantly, almost dreading what the answer would be.

“I lock you away for terrorism, find you guilty and have you executed. We shall break up this blockade of yours with force. Oh, and we shall simply find the next person on the list to lead.” Chao pointed out, without any hint of remorse in his voice.

“I… I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Dean stammered out, hardly able to conceive how the Sinsangese could be so callous.

“I do not care if you believe it, so long as you obey.” Chao said flatly, and with full seriousness. “And will you?”

Dean stared at the hand offered by Chao. He considered all the paths and alternatives. Despite how condescending Chao had treated him, Dean was not truly foolish. He was chosen for his position because he was someone Joren could trust to get things done. But now the weight rested on him. Chao could be bluffing, but could he take that risk?

Hesitantly, he took Chao’s hand, and was surprised to see a glowing smile on his face. He was entirely double-taken by the quick change in his moods and expression. Dean wondered if he had been bluffing after all, but that was something he’d never know.

“Ah, wonderful. We shall begin searching for somewhere suitable for your people to be moved to immediately. A team of scientists are over viewing data to find an acceptable planet for your people to comfortably settle on.” Chao said with a new hint of caring and softness to it, his voice resounding with compassion. “You will be returned comfortably to your ship via a diplomatic shuttle. Just tell your people to move and that a deal has been arranged. We shall let you know as soon as we have a suitable location for the souls of the Former Onyxian Commonwealth. Oh, and I would suggest cleaning yourself up. No need to look improper.”

With a nod, and holding his smile, Chao motioned to the door. Dean Doran slowly, and nervously got up as his mind tried to process what had just happened in this room. He took one last quizzical look to the Chairman of Sinsang before exiting the room. As if on cue, a small buzzing sound came from a panel on Chao’s desk.

With a click, the image of his secretary appeared from the small metallic disk on the desk. “Chairman, we have a communication from the Coalition. It is Viryn Quell, Minister of Ethics.”

“Ah, patch him through. My meeting just finished.”