Imperial Center.....The Past...



"You want to use the same plan on the Galactus?" Captain Quinn asked in confusion. "The matrix of the cloaking engine will not integrate well with the AI and current systems.."

"I know that, Captain!" snapped Kaine uncharacteristically. "I only need the ship to be rendered invisible from sensors. It will remain unpowered; essentially a rock in space. The tugs will tow the ship out of drydock and we insert the other. The tugs will be positioned like this..." he handed a pad to the Commander of Shroud Command. "It would look like they were flying formation once the cloak is active. Innocuous."


"Any passersby won't notice. How do you do the switch?"


"Engine test. We pull it out of its dry dock berth and make a run towards Improcco. Then activate the cloak and the tugs take off towards the asteroid field. The other, also towed, takes its place, returns and is moored."

"I suppose the other is at Improcco?"

Kaine smiled grimly. "It is better if you do not know."





**



"What the Frack is the Serapis?" asked the one of the observers on Guard Station One as the tugs returned towing the larger frame of a Reign Class Star Destroyer.

"That's the name the Galactus is bearing to confuse any enemies who might want to take a shot at the Grand Marshall's flagship. There are some mighty expensive refits going on over there.."

"But what sort of secret is it if we know?"

"You wanna commit treason by spilling classified info, go ahead. But we are here to observe at the Regent's behest and so observe we do. Besides, it looks like after all this time, completion of the refit is still a long way off."

Palace District Information Center


Ciscero's temporary prosthesis itched at his hasty application but he just did not have the time to do a proper job. He walked into the district using the standard Intelligence authorization but to get into the Info Center, he would need get the information he was after the old fashioned way.


The door parted and as he walked in, he was surprised to note only two people there. One in some sort of uniform he had never seen and a Data Information Officer.

"Can I help you?" the officer asked.

Ciscero's gaze brushed over the other person but set his mind doing his task. "Intelligence is closing the case on the attempted assassination of the Grand Moff. I needed to confirm the position of the assassin as noted within the sensor nets."

"It seems you're the second person to want those files." the officer commented, gesturing to the other person.

"I don't need to take them with me.. Just to visually confirm. Your terminal is as good as any." Ciscero shrugged.

"See?" the officer turned to the other who had yet to utter a sound, "He can be reasonable. Why can't you?"

Not waiting for an answer, Ciscero stepped up and began querying the correct recording information and a visual sensor log reading popped up. He recalled one time frame and sure enough, it showed the assassin leveling his weapon and sure enough, there was the security gun aimed at him but not firing.

There was no activation light lit.

"See it?" the officer asked turning his gaze from the other man.

"Just about.." Ciscero replied and as he dropped the visual record, his finger brushed against the security authorization logs and in a blink, his eyes were scanning the timeframes that would have represented the assassin's brief lifespan in the location recorded by the security sensor net.

Unfortunately, the screen change also registered a different color scheme.

"Hey? You didn't ask for.."

Ciscero's eyes found what they were searching for and they widened in surprise and shock.

"S..sorry." he replied shaken and as he absently backed out of the screen, his mind was racing with the implications of what he just saw.

But engaged as it was, so too was his survival instinct which was all that saved him as he dropped suddenly, the snap-hiss of a saber slicing through what used to be the Data Information Officer and striking where Ciscero's shoulder had been a second earlier.

He had ducked under the computer terminal and now, picked up a chair thrusting the back at the person in the uniform and holding the deadly light saber.

The swing was high but had sliced the back of the chair in half as Ciscero threw the rest at the person backing away quickly backwards, not daring to take his eyes of the other. The distance was short. One hand fumbled into a pocket.

His back hit the door and his hand fumbled for the panel while the other knocked the chair away and suddenly let loose of the saber hurling it at the retreating Ciscero.

Ciscero's head moved to the right and as he did so he lost his footing falling into a seated position, the blade striking the door above him and dropping to the ground deactivating.

There was only one chance.

Ciscero's hand came out of the pocket grasping the saber but to no avail.

1 second.

The other called the saber back to his waiting hand as Ciscero's attention turned from his attacker to the door panel slapping it. His right had hand risen with the saber when his attacker called it using the force.

2 seconds.


The slap of the panel came as the saber slapped the hand of Ciscero's attacker. The door slid open and Ciscero fell backward and he used the momentum to roll through the door as his attacker began moving with incredible speed towards the door, the snap/hiss heard slower than the sight of the blade extending once more.

3 seconds.

The saber hilt exploded in his attacker's hand as the door slid back into place. He wasted no time in picking himself up and running as fast as he could from the Data Center. He was not about to stick around and find out what damage he had inflicted. Not when the 'other guy' was a force user.

He pulled another three second explosive from his pocket ready to slap the small strip onto something nearby for a quick diversion if he needed it.

As his mind began to engage working at hyperspeeds correlating the data that he'd seen and what he'd just experienced he knew that something big was coming and he just put himself in the middle.

Oddly, there were no alarms due to the explosion but, then again, perhaps none of the computers were damaged in the explosion. The explosive was not very big.

Or (in the more likely senario) the security systems were once again overridden so no one would know about the data retrieval task the force user was obviously assigned.


His running calmed and he forced himself to walk normally as he stepped out of the Data Center building and began a trek through the Palatial Grounds. He made his way to the nearest exit tube using his Intelligence password that got him through the usual checkpoint operations.


Soon he disappeared into the general population walking to and fro on a large causeway that stretched to multiple levels and districts.


What was he to do now?


The Regent's Grand Moff was under threat of assassination.

It stood to reason that if this was the cover-up (even with the assassin dead) there very well could be another attempt, perhaps at another ranking officer of the New Order chain of command.

With the security system overridden and shut off allowing for the assassin to get close enough to shoot it stood to reason that the person controlling the security system and the assassin were in league with each other.

He moved off the common causeway, content to getting lost through the back passages that took into down several levels.


But what happens when the security system grid was deactivated at the order of the Regent?


Next time, Ciscero, ignore those nagging doubts!


He wondered if Ysanne Isard knew and whether or not she was involved. And if she was, there was only one reason why she'd purposefully attempt to kill members of the Imperial High Command:


When the ultimate target would be Grand Marshall Simon Kaine!


He forced himself to calm, making his senses blend in to those around as he stepped out of a slim corridor and moved quickly to an air-bus. He was one of many stepping on and he allowed himself to relax slightly as the bus took to the Corscant sky.

Imperial Center

Director Molave stood quietly in the sunlight of Courscant, taking in the sights of the great central captial of the Galactic Empire. No other government besides the Republic had ever held it for so long, and the Empire kept a very strong grip upon the planet. He sighed as he watched the processions coming but now, knowing what was to come very shortly when Trachta's entourage of ISB cronies came around the corner, forming a shield perimeter around their vicious director. Molave actually couldn't wait to see it, to see those glowing red photoreceptors go dead, to no longer hear that horrible breathing. Trachta had to die; for the sake for COMPNOR and the Empire, he had to die. If he wasn't eliminated, who knows what could happen, especially if had decided to make his move against Molave. Fortunately, not all of Trachta's servants were loyal to him. His own second-in-command had set up the assassination to remove a seriousthreat to the Empire's power structure.
The sooner I see him dead, the better I shall feel

Molave turned and then saw the black uniforms coming along the main procession lane. Trachta, sickly pale as always, was visible in the center of his ISB bodyguards, oblivious to the fact those men around him were all loyal to Captain Rhom and not him. They'd not stop the assassin armed with the high powered ion blaster until he'd already shot the commodore and sent him onward into oblivion. Molave had to admit that Captain Rhom had planned it all out very well, there was no way he or any Imperial could be implicated in this assassination unless he confessed too it

And who would be stupid enough to confess to something like that?

Molave smiled, rather enjoying the feeling of being on the inside of such a major policy changing conspiracy as the extermination of a cybernetic monster like Trachta. It would cleanse the Empire of one less heartless bastard, keep it clean of more murders in dark rooms and torturings in the holds of warships where no one would ever hear of it. At least he hoped that would stop if Trachta was gotten rid of, perhaps he should look into replacing Rhom also since the man was obviously too devious for his own good if he was willing to plot against Trachta so easily, even if his excuse was that it was out of sheer loyalty to the whole of the Empire.

There was a movement in the crowd to the left and Molave could see the alien, apparently a kubuz, making his was closer and closer to the black clad ISB agents forming the perimeter. They saw him too and began shifting positions in smalls ways, making an opening. the only person who seemed to notice was Trachta, his body going rigid, his hand reaching for the blaster pistol in his holster. As his gloved hand touched the handle, the assassin jumped forth with a strange battle cry and fired his weapon. There was a burst of ionic lighting and then an inhuman howl as sparks and smoke shot forth from the hit commodore. Trachta's breathing became harsh and irratic as the cyberntic commodore fell to his knees, gloved hands clawing at the boots of the assassin even as the ISB agents whipped around and swiftly executed him with their blasters. The assassin whirled and dropped to the ground, full of blaster holes as Trachta gave a last mechanical gasp and collasped onto the ground, the red light fading from his photoceptors.

Molave watched with a cold, satisfied grin on his face. Trachta was gone. Finished off by the likes of his own agents who'd gotten too power hungry and paranoid and now he had paid the price. All that remained was to meet with Captain Rhom and perhaps finish this business completely since Someone had to be appointed to replace Trachta. Molave vanished into the scrambling crowd as the ISB agents picked up the corpse. There was much to do and he had some reports to take care of.

COMPNOR Central Office
Five Hours Later

Director Molave sat quietly in his office, sipping his stim tea as his door chimed. He looked up absently and pressed the entry button before turning his attention back to his reports. The door slid open and two figures walked in, one was the broad-shouldered Captain Rhom and the other was.... was....

"Trachta..." Molave rasped, his cup of stim tea dropping to the floor and shattering.

A cold, derisive mechanical laugh came forth from the cyborg, his red photoceptors glowing like the pits of hell, his black uniform just as neatly pressed, his visible cybernetics just a finely polished. His pale, vile skin still visible with life and... the breathing. The cold, mechanized breathing which now tore at Molave's heart.

"You... you're suppposed to be dead!"

"Surprised?" Trachta asked as he stepped closer, looking as menacing as ever. "I have to admit, that my human replica droid does resemble me very much so, but now its served its purpose."

Molave sat there speechless and looked over at Captain Rhom who regarded him with cold, calculating eyes that spoke depths of who his true loyalties lay with. His gaze shifted as Trachta walked around his desk and the sound of thousands of jackboots marching on permacrete became audible through the open window Molave had currently. Trachta turned the terrified Molave's chair around toward the window and down below Molave could see a wave of black marching towards the COMPNOR central office along with troop shuttles in the air all bearing the emblem of the ISB. Molave leaned closer to see and then his heart stopped as the marching sound grew louder. That entire black mass down there was ISB agents. Armed ISB agents.

"What are you doing!?! This is the central governing office of the Commission! You can't march on it! I'll have you up on charges of treason!" Molave bellowed.

"On the contrary" Trachta said as he yanked the old man from the chair and threw him across the desk, scattering reports. "It is you who has committed treason by conspiring to kill an agent of the Empire. Even worse, conspiring with aliens to kill an agent of the Empire."

Molave landed hard on the floor and backed away from his desk in horror, backing right into the legs of Captain Rhom who easily lifted him up, and kept a tight grip on one shoulder. Molave squirmed and watched as Trachta circled his desk and walked back out into the balcony walkway that led to Molave's office. Molave followed under the duration of Captain Rhom's grip and looked down to the main lobby of the buiding in terror as black uniformed ISB agents stormed the building, scattering into squads to take it all over.

"You, Director Molave, are a traitor, and therefore with the power invested within myself and the Imperial Security Bureau by the Regent, I hearby seize control of this operation to protect it from your corrupt hands and to preserve the sanctity of the New Order. COMPNOR is mine"

"You can't do this! This is a coup! The Grand Marshall nor the Regent will ever allow this!"

"On the contrary, Marshall Kaine has better things to do than worry about whose running COMPNOR and Regent Hyfe will view it as an act of patriotism. Well, he will at least after they find your suicide note."

Molave paled and opened his mouth to speak just as Captain Rhom shoved him over the railing.

"Wha...AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

CRACK

Trachta leaned carefully over the railing, staring down at the limp body of former Director Molave, his prim white uniform becoming stained with red blood oozing from his fractured skull on the hard marble floor below.

"I have to admit, that human replica droid was very life like" Captain Rhom said as he peered down at Molave's body also.

"Its not hard to make a droid look like me, Captain" Trachta said with a bit of amusement as several ISB agents dragged the dead former head of COMPNOR away.

"See to the suicide note and manufactured evidence, Captain. I have a Commission to see to. Oh, and do make sure evidence traces back to the Select Committee as well. I want it disbanded"

"But sir, the Select Committee runs COMPNOR along with Molave, or did with Molave"

"Not anymore, there will be only one ruler of COMPNOR now. Under the the authority of the ISB I am seizing control of the entire Commission and assuming the title of Director General, placing all powers of the Select Committee and Director Molave under my control. After all, they're all traitors."

"Of course, sir."

Captain Rhom bowed and departed, leaving Trachta to himself as he looked down and watched as more and more ISB agents entered the central office. With the evidence he was planting and Molave's obvious guilt anyways, there was nothing to prevent COMPNOR from being his. Nothing.

Yes, everything is set now. That old fool is dead and the Select Committee has no ability to challenge my power now because they're ALL traitors. Traitors with no trial either. I'll have them all carted off and shot before they have a chance to raise any logical objections. At last, the Commission is mine.

Trachta turned and walked back into Molave's..., correction, his office as the new Director General of COMPNOR. There would be no more Select Committee, no more bumbling old men, and no more foolishness. There would only be smooth precision as the ISB now took absolute control of the entire Commission for the Preservation of the New Order.

Completing the circle...




The Regent's smile was a hard one and his eyes looked out upon the horizon of the mechanized capital with a hunger he rarely showed. He felt the power surging through his veins and he wondered if this was how Lupercus felt in the throws of surrendering to the Dark Side.

But Daemon Hyfe was not one to surrender.

The force was not master as the Jedi would claim nor was it a tool as Kaine and the Imperial strategists would claim.

No.

The force was a slave.

It was power personified and it was his to command.


Control.


Dominate.


His smile held no mirth. Rather it was a self satisfied confidence that what he foresaw would come to be.


The empty sections below once held soldiers and warships. He had once stood there with the pathetic Jedi and their Republic fools looking at the vast military war machine he created in secret..


Secret..


Hyfe's eyes took on a distant expression as they glanced upwards towards the faint outline of the massive Coruscant shipworks hanging in orbit. The site of where Kaine's infamous flagship was being refitted for more decades of war.


Those distant eyes narrowed.


You would break up my empire into tiny pieces of the whole..


Simon.. Simon... Simon Kaine... I remember that name.


But you were a child?


All this effort you expend for my empire... all for the deceiving memory of your mother!

Fool!


I killed her for the traitorous whore she was! And I discarded you like so much trash!


You are DEAD!


Daemon Hyfe felt his body seeth with anger.


The grin turned cruel.


... oh.. I believe the shield will be fully operational when your friends arrive...


You would take my creation from me, Simon?


I,.. I am sovereign!

I AM THE EMPIRE!


Your pathetic entrapments of Law are nothing to me!


FOOL! I AM THE LAW!


I am Palpat....


And Hyfe's eyes softened slightly as the thought passed, and his features hardened slowly as he tried to remember what he was thinking just moments before.

But his memories were empty everything save a feeling.

A feeling when his mind turned to his old fellow Triumvirate friend Simon Kaine.


A feeling of betrayal.


And his heart began to harden.








Grand Marshall Simon Kaine looked at a tired Ciscero in shock. "Daemon Hyfe?" he repeated.

"He set up the assassination attempt. Order of the Regent."

Kaine slowly sat down.

"You don't seem that surprised." Ciscero remarked looking at the Grand Marshall closely.

A look of regret came over the Imperial leader, "Over the past years there have been indicators that our dear Regent was force sensitive. He would take undocumented trips to areas unknown for great lengths of time.

At first, I suspected influence from Lupercus Darksword but recently I began to question that thought. Did you ever notice how Daemon and Lupercus never seemed to be in the same place, much less on the same planet? Always contact through intermediaries."


"You suspect competition? You think Hyfe has gone over to the Sith?"


Kaine smiled grimly. "I think the question we should be asking is: has he gone over willingly?"


Ciscero shifted uncomfortably, "You talk of treason, Grand Marshall."


Kaine's eyes searched the Intelligence Agent's. "Only if the Regent and the Empire are the same." He leaned forward, "Ciscero, does Isard know about the Regent's connection toward's the assassination?"

The agent shook his head. "I don't know if she's covering for the Regent or if she simply wished it wrapped up because the fate of Military Command Officers holds little interest for her."

"What does interest the Director of Imperial Intelligence?" the Grand Marshall asked quietly, "If not the fate of a Grand Moff?"

Ciscero looked up and grinned, "The final fate of the ISB. It seems that the organization has fallen into chaos and that our very own Commodore Trachta has taken advantage of the situation by promoting himself leader."

Kaine nodded, "Good for him. But if Intelligence's eyes and ears are diverted, Hyfe can act without fear of observation."

"To do what?" Ciscero asked, exasperated. "He's already Regent!"

"And therefore bound by Imperial Law. Hyfe is fighting time, Ciscero, time! The Bastion Conclave Charter is going to be implimented soon. The territories dispersed among the remaining Protectorates thus increasing the Military power in fewer Governors."


"The Conclave Charter is your secret government within the government." It was not a question as Ciscero stared hard at the Grand Marshall.

"Not mine. The Empire's. When the head was cut off with Palpatine by the Rebellion, the Empire fell apart. The left over Moffs had no clear right of succession and so became self styled warlords until Grand Admiral Thrawn.

That is not going to happen again! Capture Coruscant, destroy the Regent, the Imperial High Command... the administrative infrastructure and we will still have the organization of the Conclave."

"Praetor Gevel would assume the leadership." Ciscero concluded.

"And organize the Protectorates under the New Order."

The Intelligence Agent nodded. "I can see where Hyfe would be threatened by that."

"And not only the Conclave. The Moffs would have greater power than ever before with the Conclave no longer holding separate territories but dispersing throughout the Empire. Everything in order and everthing dictated by Imperial Law. There was only one wildcard..."


"The Sith.."

"Exactly. How do you govern a people who take on great personal power unto themselves? What was to keep them in line and actually follow Imperial Law. For years, the threat of the other Protectorates grouping together to prohibit one Protectorate from gaining supreme power was the only check and balance. And a poor one at that."

"But we need the Sith. We need the force-users to combat the Jedi."

"And therein lay our problem. But now, if Hyfe is force-sensitive and has learned his art well, would Lupercus and the other Sith bow to him?"

"So there's a piece of the Imperial puzzle missing?"

"We need a counter-balance to the force users. What is their maxim? Inferior ability breeds inferior intellect. We are nothing to them."

"You need someone with the same ability but disciplined to uphold Imperial Law over Imperial position." Ciscero shook his head. "That's a tall order."

Ciscero saw Kaine's expression and his eyes narrowed. "You have one."

"It is to come under the COMPNOR charter but the longer it is in disarray, the more time Hyfe has to act unchallenged by the Law to solidify his position and remove any threats real or perceived."

Ciscero frowned, "But the Regent is bound to Imperial Law as well. The position always has been."

And Kaine shook his head. "As Regent, yes. Deamon Hyfe is kept in check. But if his passions, his ambitions.. or this force is ruling his thoughts, he will not be kept in check for long."

Kaine's eyes darkened. "And there is one position that is not governed nor kept in check by law."

The full import of what the Grand Marshall had said began to sink into Ciscero and his eyes widened. "Emperor."


"And if he becomes an Emperor before we are ready, then Law becomes his tool and we all will live or die at his whim." Kaine gritted his teeth, "And if he is as erratic and uncontrollable as we have seen other Sith, we are all in trouble."




As Ciscero contemplated this a communications panel in the room beeped.

"I asked not to be disturbed," Kaine growled out in irritation.

"Sir, there's an emergency transmission from Bastion!"

The Grand Marshall and the Intelligence Agent turned to each other. "What is it?"

"Sir, preliminary reports are coming in over encryption. The Fourth Fleet has been attacked and presumed destroyed! Multiple Conclave frontier bases have been assaulted! Theren Gevel mounting a response force!"

"Any reports from the other Protectorates?! Is it the Coalition again?" Kaine stood up in anger.

"Sir. There are no other reports from the Empire and no information on the enemy."

"I am on my way to Imperial High Command. Secure a holonet line to Bastion when I arrive."

"At once!"

And the signal terminated and Ciscero remained seated quiet for a few seconds.

When he spoke, he voiced Kaine's thoughts, "An unknown enemy selects this time to strike? Suspicious wouldn't you say?"


Kaine's mood was already foul and his fist struck out at the wall as he neared the door in a rare display of anger. "Dammit!"

He knows!






As Regent Daemon Hyfe walked along the pillars of the Imperial Palace Grand Corridor he suddenly broke out in a laughter that echoed the halls.

Select Committee Chambers
Imperial Palace

A vast circular chamber holding around 5,000 men and woman sits within the palace. All those there have come to discuss but one situation now; Director Molave was dead by his own voliation and Trachta along with his ISB agents were swooping in, declaring him a traitor. What was worse was that Trachta had declared himself the Director General of COMPNOR and had just released command directive memo 101. This memo more or less declared the entire institution of the Commission under his sole control. The Select Committee at this very moment were all in an uproar as the elected leader, Speaker Dabel took the podium at the center.

"Brothers and sisters of the New Order! This is a grave time when some deranged cyborg thinks that he can supplant the entire Select Committee with his orders and his memos!"

Dabel sneered, holding what was quickly becoming known as the COM MEMO 101 above his head. Speaker Dabel was a squat, obese man with a curled and waxed mustachio, all of his hair black though many say he dyed it. Dabel was only in his position because of his old standing with Palpatine during the original days of the Empire. It only made sense that someone with that kind of clout then would be able to weasel his way back to the top so quickly in the New Order, especially back onto the Select Committee.

"We cannot allow this atrocity to happen! Especially in these trying times as the Empire faces changes! Trachta must be put down! Trachta must be put back in his place. This ISB must have its leash put back on!"

The full assembly of the Select Committee roared in agreement, raising their fists in the air angrily. As this continued and Dabel worked up his audience to the civilized version of an angry mob, the COMPForce guards within the chambers snapped to attention and exited the room. Not a single member paid this any mind because it was simply the changing of the guard that occurred during long sessions like this. What no one seemed to notice was that the guard who replaced them were all wearing black, and were eyeing them all like predators rather than bored protectors.

"Trachta must be stopped! We must save COMPNOR from him!"

The Blind Hutt Cantina
Coruscant Underlevels

Several men sat uneasily in the back room of the cantina, shifting around and making sure their weapons were ready. They all knew one another though no one knew who had called them here and no one seemed to be fessing up. They also all were members of Internal Affairs, COMPNOR's watchdog unit which kept an eye out for problem in the Commission.

"I can't believe its come to this... Trachta's gone out of his mind! He's seized the Central Office just yesterday and declared himself Director General of the entire Commission. What kind of power does that title give him?"

"This much," said another of the men, sliding a copy of COM MEMO 101 across the table.

The were several moments of silence as all the men there skimmed it and then there was an immens undertone of cursing. All of the men staring at the order in disgust.

"He's taking complete control. That title not only puts him incharge of all Civilian stuff but ISB, Assault, and COMPForce. Worse yet, COMPForce High Command has happily embraced the new policy."

"We should have seen that coming, COMPForce hates the Select Committee because the politicos have too much control over it. Whose Trachta's main backing there?"

"General Veers and Admiral Luvup."

"That can't be possible! Veers was an Army man just like his father, Maximillian."

"All the more reason Veers hates the Select Committee. We all know they're squabbling politicians. It was only a matter of time before someone got fed up enough to support an internal coup."

"But the Regent..."

"Doesn't give a damn, he seems more preoccupied with some other matter. So does Marshall Kain for that matter. We're on our own in this one. Trachta has to be dealt with before he makes his move against the Select Committee."

"Do you think he's got the balls to move against them?"

"He's already dealt with Molave..."

"But reports say that's a suicide..."

"Bantha fodder! You know as well as I do Molave was too much of a coward to ever consider taking his own life. Trachta probably did him in just to make sure no one would argue. Afterall, would you challenge a dead man's final confession before he threw himself to his own death?"

"Well, no..."

"Precisely. Trachta's too damn clever for his own good and now he's making his move while the Empire is tearing at itself. Everyone's gripping for their share of power while they still can, even the Regent."

"So, what do we do?"

"Nothing, you're all going to do nothing."

The men turned to a comlink in the center of the table that they thought had been dead. They're faces paling as the voice of Captain Rhom made itself apparent.

"You are all hereby charge with conspiracy against the Director General of COMPNOR. You are all senteced to death"

There was a click a buzz of static and then a burst of eletronic noises before utter silence filled the room.

"What was that last sound?"

"It sounded like a carrier signal, like the one used for bombs....."

"W..."

BOOM

Captain Rhom stood across the street and sneered as the whole cantina exploded in an immense fireball. He then nodded to his black uniformed compatriot behind him who reached for his own comlink and called for emergency response teams to the site of another apparent terror attack. Now all that was left was for Trachta to perform his own task.

Select Committee Chambers
Imperial Palace

The Select Committe continued to rant and rave, trying to think up ways of pushing Trachta back down to his former position as simply the head of the Imperial Security Bureau. It was during this time that the main chamber doors opened as a single figure dressed in a black imperial uniform walked up the main path to the Speaker's Pit. He stopped and the room's dull roar quickly became mute as the members of the Select Committee looked upon Trachta, a new rank badge pinned on above his Commodore rank insignia.

"How dare you come in here! This is a private meeting of the Select Committee, Trachta!" Speaker Dabel bellowed as he marched self importantly up to the cyborg.

"How dare you to try to supplant the Committee with your own power! You have no right to come in here, to make this memo declaring yourself completely in charge! We rule COMPNOR, not you, Trachta!" Dabel screamed and threw a copy of COM MEMO 101 in Trachta's face.

As the papers fell to the ground, Trachta seemed regard Dabel as a spider regards a fly its about to devour. Trachta's fist then balled up and swung out catching Dabel on the cheek and sending him flying down the aisle. Trachta then began walking towards his victim, a vicious intent in the way his cybernetic body seemed to move. As he did, Dabel sputtered, hold his cheek and pointing a finger at Trachta.

"Guards! Seize hime! He's struck the Speaker of the Select Committee."

No single guard moved, causing Dabel to turn and look on in horror as he realized all the guards in the chamber were dressed in black ISB uniforms and they all seemed to be holding their blasters a little tightly, as if ready to use them and obviously not on Trachta. Dabel turned and felt Trachta seize him by the throat in what could be called a death grip.

"Your time, and that of this Committee, is over. We found something very useful in Director Molave's suicide not. It appears he worked in conjunction with a very large number of Select Committe members in the plot to kill me."

Dabel gurgled trying to protest and felt Trachta's grip only tighten.

"This is over. The old ways are over. The Empire is changing, Dabel. Things are moving towards a new form of stability and this committee is not part of it. I will rule COMPNOR alone, and ensure the New Order remains. This committee is hearby disbanded and under arrest for suspicion of conspiracy and assassination. We also can't forget corruption charges"

Trachta looked malevolently at the gasping and gurguling Dabel as the raised a hand and the main doors opened again along with the side doors. ISB agents streamed in, blasters at the ready. The end had come. The last vestiges of the old reign were being wiped away internally.

"You are all to be taken to the holds of the Barbarossa III which will be entering orbit very shortly."

The whole committee seemed to become dead quiet as they realized they were all going to their deaths. Trachta was going to cart them all off to the Mechis Cluster, his small stronghold of worlds within his personal iron grip. They had all heard rumors of what happened to those taken there; the torturings, the beatings, the executions. They all knew they were as good as dead, they would never see the light of day again after this but they couldn't fight back. Trachta had them swarmed and Speaker Dabel in his clutches. He held all the cards. COMPNOR was no longer theres.

"Take them all away," Trachta said as he threw Dabel aside with disgust and began stalking back down the aisle towards the main doors as the ISB agents started rounding up the Select Committee.

Outside, Trachta found Captain Rhom waiting for him and then began walking down the Grand Corridor of the Palace towards the main entrance.

"Has everything been dealt with?" Trachta asked camly.

"Yes sir, the problem has been dealt with. Unfortunately, it seems the GLF hit a cantina down in the Underlevels," Rhom said with a smile of cold hearted amusement.

"Good, and the Select Committee has been dealt with. That house has been cleaned, now we can start filling it that way we want to."

"What of Isard?" Rhom looked cautiously over at Trachta.

"Let the bitch rot in her Directorship. I hold more power than her now. The Bureau was always bigger than Imperial Intelligence and now I control all of COMPNOR. She's got nothing on me and no one is going to question my new authority. Very few people could anyways," Trachta said with a low, cold, metallic laugh.

"Very well, sir. But I've been hearing disturbing whispers of goings on within the rest of the Empire, sir...."

"So have I... its seems things are changing within the Empire even more so than just with COMPNOR. We must choose our allegiance very carefully in the coming days. Things aren't going as they should outside of Imperial Center."

Rhom nodded and stepped out into the dim evening with Trachta as they made their way towards a waiting speeder to take them back to the COMPNOR Central Office. Much business needed to be done and Trachta never slept.

Closing the Fist...


“..but ultimately, of what use is the law?”

"...if something cannot stand the test of time, it is inevitably irrelevant. Would not that definition apply to law as well?”


"..You speak of laws changing… being improved for the sake of continuing to fulfilling a designed function. But what happens if those in power, who design the laws, change them at whim… Does that not break down the progression of protection for the New Order? Would that not hinder other laws from their designated functions?


And so, how would you answer such an action? Especially if coming from one who creates law?”




*


The voices of the past coming up again as Kaine stepped between two individuals. One a man and another a woman each dressed in black, each holding an immaculate appearance, each holding a severe expression.


An bird taking flight with a saber icon underneath the only insignia on their person.



How indeed?


How would you answer such action?



With action of your own!


"We move from Law Theory to Law Application.." Kaine stated through clenched teeth as anger held it's grip on him. The news at the Imperial High Command was not encouraging. Governor Theren Gevel was mustering his legions to respond to the threat to his territory.


Marshallng all the resources of the Bastion Conclave! And if the entire Protectorate should fall?! No hidden government! No Praetor! Nothing to hold the ..Emperor in check!


Kaine no longer shaded his mind from the truth.


He knew what Hyfe's goal was.



A news holocast was appearing overhead as the trio exited the building intent on another secret destination.


Regent Daemon Hyfe was smiling in a rare public appearance as the newscaster was shooting questions out as quick as he could taking advantage of the opportunity.


"Tell me, Lord, what do you think of the launching of Galactus tomorrow?"

The Regent's smile stayed. "It certainly cost enough.." he started elliciting a a chuckle from everyone around. When the Regent joked, everyone laughed. "But the famous flagship of our Grand Marshall is deserving of attention especially with the chaos that is ensuing within our great Empire. We must show that we are strong. That we will not be controlled. That, in the end, our triumph is inevitable. In fact, I plan on meeting with my servant Kaine aboard during the first flight. A flight of destiny."

The newscaster did not know how to react to Hyfe's sudden comments but then, Hyfe leaned back in his comfortable chair clearly confident. "Who knows... perhaps our Grand Marshall may get to meet an Emperor..."


And the planet went mad with speculation as the holocast faded with Hyfe's smile frozen in place.



Simon Kaine pulled out his personal communictor. "Admiral Chandler, begin the offloading of the transports, it's time to act."








That afternoon, the advance patrol of the Bastion Conclave's 2nd Legion was struck by an unknown enemy.

Past, Present and Future Collide ..... Showdown..



Early Morning


The broadcaster for a local INS network gave his commentary as holographic images of the Galactus in various stages of redesign and refit provided by the Office of the Grand Marshall were presented to the public.


"They added an extra three thousand meters to the superstructure of the vessel," the voiceover was relaying, "..still smaller than a Venerator Class Command ship, the Galactus will retain it's designation as a Reign Class Star Destroyer as most of the key systems were not replaced but enlarged upon and upgraded.

Boasting one of the most advanced communications packages in the entire Imperial Fleet, the ship is to serve as Grand Marshall Kaine's command platform to carry out his growing duties as Supreme Commander of the Imperial Military. Though most of the new systems on the Galactus are classified, we were able to get permission to view the relaunching and present it to the public. So stay tuned on this holo-frequency for more..."




"...from what we were able to gather from last night's interview, not only will the Regent be present aboard the Galactus during it's launch, he may be doing so under a new title, if rumors are to be believed.

Should Daemon Hyfe become Emperor, he will be the second to hold the title since the New Order's inception and, from this news network, a worthy candidate to follow the late Emperor Palpatine.

What sort of reaction the governments outside the Empire may have at this turn of events..."

*-*-*

"...this just in from the office of the Grand Marshall, in a bold move to rid the Empire of corruption from within, it is with great satisfaction that the Empire welcomes Commodore Trachta as the new head of the Commission for the Preservation of the New Order.

Members of the Select Committee were taken into custody in the wake of Director Molave's suicide. Sources seem to indicate that they secretive group was involved in a plot to destroy the security enjoyed by the Empire and it's citizens.

Commodore Trachta was unavailable for comment setting himself to the task of making our New Order safe and secure.

In light of his efforts, stay tuned for an announcement later today from the Office of the Grand Marshall on the launching of yet another new program under the COMPNOR Charter.

Supreme Commander Kaine, Commodore Trachta, we eagerly await your news! Stay tuned as more breaking news becomes available."





Admiral Chandler intercepted a busy Grand Marshall Kaine as he was walking and directing orders to several aides who were keeping pace. At a nod, Kaine sent them on their way and set his eyes on Chandler.

"News?"

"We've lost comm signals with Bastion and Kamino. No indication of attacks on the worlds themselves but even the hint of interference.."

"No word from Gevel?"

Ibren shook his head and Kaine's lips pressed together firmly, his mind racing. "There isn't much to go on and I cannot divert the Black Fleet without more information."

"So we wait?"

"We trust Theren Gevel to handle this crisis. If we lose more sectors to blackouts, though, I want the First, Third and Ninth Fleets mobilized."

"Aye, Sir."

"And the transports?"

"Unloaded on Imperial Center and two on the Galactus." Chandler grinned at naming Kaine's flag. "You know we've only reconstructed the superstructure of the Serapis to match Galactus'. The interior is not even close to completion.."

"It doesn't need to be for what I've got in mind." Kaine whispered suddenly serious. "Just as long as the engines and key systems operate."

The Admiral nodded, "Checking them this morning."

"Good. I'll see you at the ceremony then, Admiral."

"Simon.." Chandler's voice suddenly took on a quiet urgent quality halting the Grand Marshall in his steps.

"If this does not work..."

"Ibren, our hand is forced. It will play out as it plays out."

"Sir." and Kaine turned to the man who had been with him from the beginning when he was a nervous Colonel taking command of the 256th for the first time. "I just want you to know that it's been a pleasure.."

"Ibren.." Kaine gently chided. "We're too close for such fomality." The two men grasped hands as if the mere act of handshaking could convey their years of friendship. "If I do not make it, see to the men." Kaine's shake was firm. "You've been the best friend a man could ask for."

They parted.

"Good Hunting, Marshall."

Kaine grinned as he turned, "Victory or Death, Admiral."












When mapping events along a historical arc that endures the passage of time, what historians invariably do is find one particular experience and use that as a starting point. The circumstances surrounding the launch of the RSD Galactus could be classified as such.

It was an arc marked by a singular event. From that event emerged a great many points of divergence from the previously known (likely) result derived from probability data.

Divergences such as changes in cultural identity have their beginnings marked by experiences (sometimes tragic) that spread their effects over subsequent generations.



Unfortunately, many of the conclusions reached by historians are the result of their own misguided interpretations drawn from contemporary experiences. That, coupled with that undeniable axiom of history: that history can only be read, recorded, and interpreted by what historian’s ‘see’, do much to pull down the tapestry of truth, woven over by interpretation, theories, and half-ass guesses. The axiom is the one invincible truth that overshadows everything a historian says and does. For all their archeology, for all their artifacts, for all their buried scrolls unearthed, their conclusions can only be drawn by what they see or, more accurately, what others have seen in their ancient lifetime.

In this, one main ingredient is missing. This one singular important piece of information, depending on what that information yields, can either paint a historical picture as black as night or as white a snow.

That singular piece of information?


Motive.


How can historians draw conclusions based on the events that resulted from the Event, if they don’t even know why the event occurred?


Or, again more accurately, how can historians draw conclusions if what they did know from the secular accounts taken from those who were there at the time…. If what they thought they knew…

..was wrong?



How accurate can history be if it was drafted in secret?


How accurate can history be if the only truth derived from the experiences (such as the Event) is the “what” but not the “why” or “how”?


All in all, history is correct about one thing…..that events in time are linked.


Even if those links are invisible to those living at the time and remain invisible to posterity for all times to come.



Were the circumstances surrounding the launch of the Galactus .. linked to something else?


To find the original canvas of this masterpiece, one has but to move backwards from this future event, past the present unrest on Utropollus Major and into that haze that was the life of Simon Kaine.


If not all of the strokes were of his own making, then he knew enough to use what was there to create a piece of astonishingly simple appearance and yet deadly depth...



....which culminated during the launch of the Empire's most famous warship.








The Future is Now..



The shuttle disappeared under the shadow of the gargantuan vessel being towed out of space dock.

“Grapplers holding at tension threshold,” came the computerized automation center’s scanning report.

“Threshold max remaining constant,” came the inevitable human observation. “Power output within safety perimeters.”

His companion just whistled at the sight of the lines starting from the tugs leading back to the finally complete vessel. “There she is… finally! The Pride of the Empire. Kaine’s own flagship, Galactus!”

“Definitely a ship worthy of the visitor it is being graced with,” the former said. “Hull is still ionized… scans are being blocked.”

“That’s to be expected. I’ve heard these Reign SD-Class warships have a keel laid of many different ores, one of them specifically charged to deflect ion cannon shots.”

“No wonder we get nothing from our scans.” The other commented returning to his station. “If not for the comm traffic from the ship, we would never know if anyone was aboard her or not.”

The other, a portly man, laughed. “You’d better believe there is someone over there to receive Him. Or it’s..” and he made a gesture across his throat with his thumb.

“Too true. With all the victories the Empire has had and the news bits singing His praises no one will want to piss Him off.” The man opposite the portly fellow who had been staring out at the ship was, himself, rather skinny, though a competent enough officer of about thirty years of age named Hersch. “Did you hear that He may be made Emperor?”

“If by ‘He’ you are referring to our beloved Regent Hyfe, then aye. If you are referring to someone else, I’ll have to report you for treason.” The other began jokingly and then relented, “I heard something.” The portly man of about fifty years of age was named Jaero.






Regent Daemon Hyfe smiled as his shuttle approached the flagship of Simon Kaine. The coverage of the ship he felt was too much for what it represented in his opinion.

A haven for a man that would depose me at the first opportunity.

Hyfe eyes burned. He was not going to give the man such an opening.

He would arrive first and take command of Kaine's bloody ship. And when the Grand Marshall (he thought the title mockingly) arrived, he would find the tables turned. The ship only had a skeleton crew aboard for he knew Kaine was not really prepared for the early launch. The Regent had moved up the date suddenly in hopes of catching the Marshall off guard. And it seemed to be working.

He turned to the pilot. "When does Kaine arrive?"

"Not for another hour..." the pilot responded nervously and Hyfe smiled broadly. The design of the warship by his relative Gormul would make everything that happened aboard, stay aboard.

He would have the skeleton crew eliminated and no one would be the wiser.

He had maneuvered events in such a way to bring about the future he desired.

And yet, why was he feeling a disturbance in the force? Why was there a growing sense of wariness?


"We are arriving, Galactus main hanger set to receive." the pilot droned and Hyfe pushed doubt aside and felt nearly as good as he had when he arrived on the Second Death Star, that traitor Vader walking beside him.





Jaero’s signal board lit up as he accepted the transmission from the flagship of the Empire. “Port Authorities, this is Galactus. We have Him.”

“Copy that, Galactus. Tracking the Grand Marshall’s shuttle enroute from Quarro District.”

There was a slight pause.

“Thanks for the heads up, Port Control.”

Jaero and Hersch grinned at each other. The return of the ship’s master must have the crew in quite a flurry. Kaine’s reputation for preparedness was second to none though the Grand Marshall did have a soft spot for the military men and women that served the Empire. Still, it was a soft spot no one felt encouraged to take advantage of.









The hiss of the lowering ramp echoed into the empty hanger as the Regent strode down with a confidence born of power. He was accompanied by no one which spoke volumes.


But, surprisingly, he was not alone.


For waiting to greet him was Grand Marshall Simon Kaine.


Daemon Hyfe kept his face expressionless. "This is an unexpected pleasure, Marshall." he slowly said, his voice conveying neither surprise nor pleasure.


A voice overrode any response from Kaine, sounding throughout the hanger: "Port Authorities, this is Galactus. We have Him."


The voice sounded human but Hyfe knew better. "Your AI is working overtime, Marshall." he commented dryly. "Masking the fact that you have no one aboard."


He stretched out with the force and found himself suddenly beset by various power fluxuations within the warship. This ship was nowhere near completion!


His eyes widened in surprise as Kaine simply stood there quietly watching his Regent.


The Regent's eyes burned a reddish tint as his anger began to mount and his lips curled in disgust.


"So, the little orphan boy thought to entrap his master?"


Kaine's eyes registered surprise at the comment but his face remained impassive. "How long have you been a slave to this force?" he asked quietly.


Daemon Hyfe's voice rose to dangerous levels. "Slave?" he asked, the quiver in his voice a warning of power barely restrained. "You've no idea who you are dealing with do you?"


Simon sighed and shook his head sadly, "Give up the Sith posturing. Lupercus does it better."


And that was when Daemon snapped. His fingers extended from the sleeves of his royal robes and lightning shot forth engulfing Simon.


Simon screamed in pain at the sudden attack as he fell to the floor.


Daemon's voice was full of scorn. "Fool! You plan and scheme and spend all your energies on a Empire that means nothing! IT IS NOTHING BUT MY TOOL! MY TOOL FOR CONTROLLING ALL YOU PITIFUL ANIMALS!"

And as Daemon screamed at the fallen soldier, he let loose another round of lightning.


As Kaine lay on the hanger floor engulfed, Hyfe slowly began to encircle the fallen Grand Marshall, his lips twisted with scorn.

"Poor, Simon Kaine. I killed your mother and made you kill your father! You were nothing but a pawn!" The Regent's mouth was hanging in laughter, his eyes angry. "And here you are working to make my empire the greatest in the galaxy! What a fool you are!"


Kaine struggled on the ground as the his uniform began to smoke from the attacks the Regent dealt out. As the Regent was speaking, the meaning behind his words began to register in Simon's mind and his rising anger began to focus beyond the pain.

"Y.. you aren't Daemon!" he shot back in pain.

"Daemon Hyfe?" the Regent retorted. "Daemon Hyfe? This shell of a man with no more imagination than a pregnant Bothan?" Daemon began to laugh some more, his cackle becoming more frantic.

The situation was spinning rapidly out of control as Simon saw his plans falling apart. He had expected Hyfe's powers to be overwhelming but he did not expect the Regent to be out of his mind.

"W..who are you?" he gritted his teeth as the pain began to subside.

Daemon walked over to Kaine as the other was just trying to sit up. The Regent put his boot on Simon's shoulder and pushed him down once more. "For a man who's intelligence is revered throughout the galaxy, you are rather dense. This fool of a man you call Regent journeyed to far-off worlds in hopes of learning the secrets to harnessing his newfound force abilities. He drank everything in like a man dying of thirst."

A twisted smile formed, "And in that ancient alchemy, he found me."

The smile widened. "Or, rather, I found him. He was rather easy to control."

The Regent's eyes narrowed. "There must have been signs! Spectres of the truth popping up here and there. Even a fool like you should have seen them." His voice cackled again. "Apparitions everywhere."


The Regent's face twitched with unseen apprehension. "And as I stare out at this galaxy... so different from when I ruled, I see what I saw back then. You, the people, everyone... ALL OF YOU!... merely faces of the dead!


I have unleashed a new power against your famed Bastion Conclave and soon Theren Gevel will become one of those faces."


Kaine hissed, "You are dead!" and Daemon let out a chuckle.


"Ironic isn't it?" The Regent sighed. "Theren Gevel and his conclave will die. You and yours will be dead as well. And I?... I will be Emperor. And when I raise my powers to even greater heights, it will be toward your slut Moff. I will enjoy rendering her planets to cinders!

Lupercus Darksword and his band of idiots will bow to my power and we will set this galaxy aflame!"


Daemon's boot dropped to Kaine's neck. "I thank you, Simon Kaine. As Emperor, I destroyed your family and tossed your life away like a skinned animal. And you were quite the little resilient animal weren't you?

Imagine! Grand Marshall of the Empire! Supreme Commander of all it's military might! A step away from becoming Emperor yourself!" His boot tightened.


And as Kaine lay on his side, a gloved hand emerged from a pocket pulling a small remote and pressed down on a contact.


The floor began to vibrate as the hanger bay door slid along the ventral side of the ship, cutting off the bay's access to space. The Regent's pilot in the shuttle called out in surprise to his leader and the Regent's boot lifted from Kaine's neck.

"What's happening?" he commanded as his force perceptions began to scream warnings at him.


"Sir! Sir! The hanger doors are...are... they've closed!" the pilot called out over Hyfe's personal communicator.

"You cannot escape, Emperor." Kaine gasped out, a hand running across his throat.


"What have you done?!" Hyfe whirled around. "You think that by trapping me in your ship's hanger bay, you'll defeat me?!" he asked incredulously.


"No.." rasped Kaine. "Just delay you."


"For what?" Hyfe's voice dripped scorn. "You are not a force sensitive. You are less than pathetic!"


"Inevitability, my Lord. Inevitability." Simon began to stand. "Your tool has become a machine! Your tool will take on a life of it's own and not even the title of Emperor will be left untouched."

It was Kaine's turn to drip scorn, "You think you are the future of the Empire? You think your power is so unassailable?"

Kaine laughed harshly and stretched out his hand towards a door along the far wall of the hanger. "I give you the future!"

And the door slid open revealing six people, four men and two women, dressed in black and gray (unrecognizable uniforms) each face grim and serious.


The Regent laughed. "Children? CHILDREN!!? This is your future?"







From Kaine's meeting with Regrad...Apparitions Part I

As you have noticed, the Imperial machinery is geared to overcome. Our great fleets and force users, such as the Sith, are designed for that end. But tell me, High Lord: What happens to that machinery once everything has been overcome? When the great war machine of the Empire is no longer necessary?

What happens at peace? You will have no doubt noticed that soldiers find a hard time adjusting to the experiences of peace because they are trained for a purpose that is no longer relevent. How do they adjust?

How will our own force users adjust? Will the Sith simply exist in peace?

No, a new Jedi Order, a new corps of Jedi would not be designed with our war machine in mind. It should be designed with maintaining the Empire. Maintaining the machinery that keeps our government strong and functionng. Maintaining the order and the peace.

Military measures keeps the peace externally but a new corps of Jedi would keep the peace, internally. For the people.

Perhaps that is the missing equation to stem civil wars."


High Lord Regrad thought about that and began to speak words that made Simon Kaine laugh on the inside. Words in which the High Lord was maneuvered into making Kaine's point for the directive he was about to impliment.


"You'd have to alter the Jedi means while keeping the ends the same, is my guess. Their goals seem to be peace, freedom, justice, wisdom, and so forth, which is all fine and good, but you'd have to change the ways in which they obtain these goals. Make an order dedicated to law as much as it was dedicated to freedom and I can see such an order surviving in the Empire."



This was a turning point in Imperial Policy. And it was a policy that perhaps could have been avoided if the High Lord had seen where Kaine was headed. At least that is what the historians would have one believe. But hindsight is always sharper than foresight. There were aspects, of course, to this grim purpose that Kaine set upon that the High Lord nor anyone ever dreamed.






Daemon Hyfe shot out a hand towards the newcomers and lightning was sent forth from his fingertips. Much to his surprise, the electrical discharge was deflected and he suddenly felt the warning from within the force, the self preservation of the dark side, finally solidifying. These six people, while individually holding inferior power, began to link their force tendrils into something far more potent and the Regent felt the pressure exerted to contain him.

"NO!" shouted Hyfe as the electricity began to strike different places; everywhere else but where he aimed it. Sparks flew across different computer systems and alarms began to sound.

Kaine's voice was hard. "By themselves, they would not stand a chance against you or the Sith. But they operate together. They do not answer to some damned antiquated Jedi or Sith Code but to Imperial Law!"


"What... What is this abomination you've set upon me?!" the Regent raged.


Kaine's smile became cruel, "Behold, Emperor, the Jedi Corps!

The new guardians of security and order within the Empire where LAW is paramount! The answer to the destruction wrought by you force users! Soon, they will be everywhere in the Empire!"


The possessive spirit within Hyfe sought memories from his host and enlightenment followed. "You never destroyed those... those primitive people! They were to be my personal guard!"


Kaine shook his head, "I had hoped that Daemon would have retained some individuality. That he might be saved.."


The Regent enslaved laughed harshly, saliva spilling from his mouth. "I will never let him go!"


Kaine's eyes became distant, a sad expression filling his face. "Then you have to die."


The Grand Marshall walked over to a nearby storage panel, opened it and pulled out a blaster.


"You want to be Emperor!" Hyfe shouted, raging against the restraining force imposed on him by those of the Jedi Corps.


Kaine's arm lifted, the blaster pointed at a man he once called friend, now possessed by some evil incarnation of something believing themselves to be Palpatine.


"I'm sorry.."





When mapping events along a historical arc that endures the passage of time, what historians invariably do is find one particular experience and use that as a starting point. The circumstances surrounding the launch of the RSD Galactus could be classified as such.

It was an arc marked by a singular event. From that event emerged a great many points of divergence from the previously known (likely) result derived from probability data.

Divergences such as changes in cultural identity have their beginnings marked by experiences (sometimes tragic) that spread their effects over subsequent generations.




An entire history unfolded when Kaine fired the blaster that changed the arc of the Empire for an eternity. Hyfe fell to the hanger deck floor dead, his final purging of force powers contained by the Jedi Corps.


The Serapis warship, having been made to look like the Galactus, exploded as Kaine and his people secretly departed, the final ruling of the demise of the ship being a malfunction causing a cataclysmic systems failure that killed their Regent.

Rumors of Kaine being injured and undergoing bacta treatments persisted and five days later, Kaine made his first public appearance. A state funeral for their fallen Regent was issued to all worlds of the Empire.

And amid this, in an effort to bring order to the chaos that seemed to happen more frequently, Kaine annouced the final element to that which was missing in the Imperial equation. A return to the fold of those guardians of peace and justice that served the Old Republic so faithfully. Before the Order perverted its teachings and made them take up arms against the Empire's leadership after the Clone Wars.

The Jedi Corps was made official under the COMPNOR charter.

Simon Kaine's popularity was unmatched and he elevated himself to Emperor.

And in the years that followed, their enemies were finally brought to heel culminating in an out of the way system called Algeron.


Kaine's plan was masterful and it worked.


The New Galactic Order became a reality.








But this was not to come to pass..



Unfortunately, all this was soon to be erased and history cleaned like a white-washed canvas.


Where once a masterpiece had been set now sat nothing.





Alien entities known as the Dracconis some 430 years in the future would not be satisfied with their lot in life. And, according to the Imperial point of view, rather than dealing with it, they decided to change the very history that survived after Emperor Kaine's death.


Events, Relationships, Triumphs, Tribulations...


All wiped away by a simple act that set history along another path.



A path that would prevent Kaine from firing the killing shot at his Regent.







Were the circumstances surrounding the launch of the Galactus .. linked to something else?






It was at that moment when Kaine's finger began to press on the trigger of his blaster that an orb appeared between the two men. A transparent orb that began to grow in size and crackle with energy. The six members of the Jedi Corps blocked their eyes, momentarily losing their concentration giving Daemon the opening he needed to strike.

Energy shot forth from his fingers engulfing Kaine's Jedi and they began to scream in pain as if a thousand razor blades were running up and down their bodies.

A silhouette appeared inside the orb and the sphere began to flash a brilliant bright radiance that caused even the Regent to cry out in surprise.

And as the light died, standing where a transparent sphere was only mere moments ago, was a tall creature... part man, part machine... all Dracconis.

The creature ignored the Regent and turned it's focus toward the Grand Marshall. A voice appeared in the minds of everyone present.


~It worked! Diosynes would be pleased!


"Who are you?" Kaine asked, his voice shaking and his weapon poised with unsure intent.


~I am Visyons of Dracconis. And I am here to kill you.


Everyone stood shocked for a second and a grin formed across the bitter features of the Regent. His chuckle was heard behind the creature and his voice betrayed an immense joy. "It seems you've pissed off more people than you know."

Hyfe placed a hand on the creature's shoulder. "Eliminate him."

The creature's gaze did not leave Kaine's.


~ Unhand me flesh! You are worthless to me!


"How DARE you!" Hyfe was livid and his grip turned the creature to face him and the creature named Visyons backhanded the Regent.


~ I look upon you and see a face of the dead. You are dead. In my past. Killed by this man.


He pointed to Kaine.


~ This man rose to become your empire's Emperor and that empire of flesh soon grew to crush all it's enemies. Even our ancestors. Even us.


"You are from the future." Kaine took the news calmly though his mind began to race with the implications.

~ Your insight will serve you well. At least, it would have. But you must die for your empire to fall.


"And how do you know my death would cause it's fall?"


The creature's sharp teeth shined as it smiled.


~ I don't. But when I return, I shall see what I shall see and if further actions are needed, they will be made.


~ This is a divergence point.


The creature pointed to Kaine.


~ It is time for you to die.



At that moment a voice came in over the ship's comm system distracting the creature.



"I track the Marshall’s shuttle arriving in about 20 minutes."


Daemon Hyfe turned to Kaine and a slow smile appeared. "Very clever Kaine. No one knows you are here."


~Enough.

The creature pointed and from his hand a piercing beam shot out. Kaine, however, was already on the move.


"COMPUTER DETACH CABLES AND ENGAGE ENGINES!" he shouted to the Reign Class AI.

The vessel lurched wildly knocking everyone to their knees.

A call from the tracking Port Authority came in, “Galactus? Is there a problem?”


The AI was ready with a response, “Port Control, we are going to execute intermix startup from here.” Came an unemotional voice.


“Galactus, this .. this is highly irregular.”


“What He wants.. He gets, Port Control.”


“Understood, Galactus. Port Control out.”




And while the AI was interacting with the outside world, Kaine had come up firing his blaster at the creature. The shot staggered the creature but he did not go down.

The hanger was just too open to reach any cover so Kaine moved the only direction he could. Towards the creature. And just as Visyon's arm shot another beam, Kaine deflected it with his arm, knocking the beam against several panels sending more surges throughout the incomplete wiring network.

The creature was just too strong as his left hand clamped down on Kaine's shoulder forcing him to his knees.

Visyon looked down, his estimation of a man he'd only known through half damaged and ancient accounts rising slightly. But only slightly for the man was flesh after all.


~ The death of this flesh marks the rise of the Dracconis!


The creature stared at Kaine one last time.


~ Good bye.


And Hyfe's fist punched through the creature's body, his hand enveloped in a force bubble, his eyes fiery over the casual dismissal by the creature named Visyons. As the Regent withdrew his hand from the shocked creature's body, he grasped the spinal column and drew the creature back, it's head falling back and resting on Hyfe's right shoulder.

"If anyone is going to change history," he whispered, "it's me!" And he pulled violently as the creature screamed in his mind.


Kaine kicked away from the both of them and tried to quickly get up.


The creature's shaking hand pressed something on it's palm and a brilliant flash of light appeared the space the creature had occupied exploding and throwing the Regent back. Kaine was tossed like a rag doll across the floor and the unconscious Jedi mauled by the debris of torn durasteel and plating.






*




And as Kaine came too, alarms were sounding throughout the ship.


"Autodestruct sequence initiated.." droned the AI. It was the final order for any shipboard AI if capture seemed imminent and the ship's main systems non-functional. With half the ship gutted and carved as befits a major refit, and the damage being done aboard it, the AI cognitive matrix began to unravel.


Kaine had not banked on the craft sustaining battle damage (especially on the inside) and as he slowly picked himself off the floor, one arm dangling uselessly by his side, he walked over to the fallen form of Daemon Hyfe.


The Regent was spitting up blood as his eyes focussed on the Grand Marshall staring over him.


"So..." he rasped. "You will be Emperor after all..."

"We both are dying here. The Autodestruct was engaged.." Kaine whispered and for the first time, Daemon Hyfe's eyes showed fear.


"No!" he whispered but his broken body would not respond. "NO!" he shouted madly with a sudden force and then his body fell limp to the floor.

Kaine stared at the body for a few seconds before coming to a decision.

And as he bent down, he noted the Jedi groaning as they slowly came to their senses.










Full Circle...



“Damn.. that’s a fine looking ship” Jaero murmured in admiration and began to stand up. “I’m thirsty.. Want anything?”

Hersch was still staring when he shook his head, turning slightly, his eyes still remaining on the flagship. “Not thirsty. How about some food?”

“Food?” Jaero chuckled to himself. “I’ll see what—“

The Control Tower’s lights suddenly turned a blue hue and a piercing red light drew their attention.

“What the-?“



And outside their viewports, set against the crystal beauty of Imperial Center and surrounded by passing support ships and patrolling TIEs..







..the Galactus exploded.

+ 10 minutes…


“Comm traffic is jammed!” Hersch shouted over the drum of launching work pods enroute to the shattered remains of Galactus. Not much of the hull had remained, though the pieces were large enough to greatly damage whatever they hit.

“Emergency channel, Military encryption..” Jaero started as he entered the codes drilled into him from constant training.

“Admiral Chandler on a priority..” came someone over the intrastation system. The entire Port Control Facility had been awakened to massive damage control initiatives.

“Accept..” Jaero said, sighing.

The firm voice of authority rang in his ears. “Report.”

“Galactus has been scattered all over the damned planet's orbital sphere.. “ Hersch nearly growled out in frustration sending the coordinates to reroute damaged transports out of the area. It was a monumental task as Imperial Center held the traffic of untold billions.

The Admiral’s voice softened somewhat. “Do we know the cause?”

“At this point no.” Jaero got out automatically. “Right now we are attempting to salvage what we can of damaged vessels. Several TIE fighters and bulk transports were fatally struck in the explosion.”

“The High Command has mobilized the Home Fleet, they will enter your area in less than two minutes..” the Admiral explained taking the situation in hand.

Jaero’s sensor board confirmed the larger warships of the Empire were closing on their location. “Thank you Admiral, their tractor beams will be most useful.”

“Send over your visual and sensor logs as soon as you can.” Chandler ordered in response, his attention seemingly directed elsewhere.

“Sir..” Hersch began slowly.

The Admiral turned his eyes to the Control Officer.

“The.. There was someone aboard…”

“I know.” was all the Admiral said.

“I don’t think..” Hersch tried to clarify.

“I know…” Chandler repeated. “Any location on the Marshall’s shuttle?”

Hersch turned white. “No.. No sir. No one has reported their sensors picking it up.” He felt shame at having forgotten about the Marshall in lieu of the Regent being dead center on a ship that exploded.

Admiral Chandler nodded. “As of this moment, Imperial Center is under Martial Law. All government agencies are suspended until the cause has been identified and the threat.. (if any) dealt with.”

“If any?”

Chandler grimaced slightly. “It could have been an accident.”

Hersch nodded when the proximity beacons detected the first of the Fleet to arrive on the scene.

“You’ll have our logs shortly, Admiral.” Jaero said.

“Comm from the Tyrant.” Hersch said as another sensor board began ‘speaking’ to him.

“Captain..” Jaero began but Hersch overrode him shouting, “GRAVIMETRIC WAVE INCOMING!”

“Wha?” Jaero turned as the Captain of the Tyrant shouted for shields.


Five seconds later the wave hit as systems all over the Control Tower shorted out leaving Hersch and Jaero in a dark room staring out at the debris.

+ 2 hours…



“What have we got, Quinn?” Admiral Chandler started without preamble

“Hell of a mess, Sir.” Captain Quinn responded, holding a data pad in his hand. At least that is what the hologram looked like it was doing.

“Preliminary readings of the debris indicate late discharge of a gravity well generator.”

“Damn.” Admiral whispered harshly. “Damn.. damn… damn. We don’t need this.. Not now.”

“Bastion Conclave?”

“Falling to hell, Captain.”

“Figured as much. Our orders placed us on stand-by.”

“It’s going to boil over and boil over soon.”

“Sir!” came a shout drawing the Admiral’s attention. Captain Quinn waited patiently as the older officer was drawn off.

He came back less than a minute later with a grin on his face.

“The Marshall’s shuttle has been located! Rally everything.. sending you the location.”

“We’ll be on site in a few. Quinn out!”





The shuttle had been caught in the gravimetric wave of the exploding warship as it was leaving.

Grand Marshall Simon Kaine opened his eyes, wiping the blood from his brow as he felt the shuttle jolt as if something had attached itself from the outside. He began to smell a burning aroma as flashes appeared in a circular fashion against a wall and soon troopers and medics were coming though the hollowed out opening.

Six younger people in black and gray uniforms and an unconscious Regent were sprawled on the floor with the pilot's seat being occupied by the Marshall himself.

Captain Quinn entered the craft stepping around the attending medics and raised an eyebrow to a tired Simon Kaine as he put a cloth to his own brow.

"Get him to a bacta tank, Captain." he said in exhaustion, answering Quinn's unspoken question (for now).

Improcco - Fortress world of Simon Kaine




The tank bubbled and swirled as the body inside underwent the healing miracles of the bacta liquid. Shadows fell across the surface of the transparent glass as the injured was unaware he was being watched.


Grand Marshall Simon Kaine stared intently at the floating figure of Daemon Hyfe, his mind lost to the events that transpired mere hours ago.


"Something has happened, Quinn." he murmured as the Captain walked up. Quinn, one of the three leaders that served with him on Sotel those many decades ago.

Admiral Chandler was overseeing the mess the destruction of the Serapis had created along with the cover story of the Marshall's own injury.

The fate of the Regent in the balance as those in the Empire feared him lost to the destroyed warship. A warship that the public thought was the Galactus.

In fact, that was supposed to happen.


The loss of control Hyfe displayed throughout these latter years had become a growing concern. A threat to render the machinery of the Empire inert.

Simon had always held out hope that his friend and mentor would have pulled himself out but upon finding out that their Regent was behind the assassination attempts on Grand Moff Zell, the reality of Hyfe solidifying his position and power motivated Kaine to action. The fact that Hyfe himself revealed being behind the vicious attacks upon Theren Gevel's Bastion Conclave merely justified Kaine's plan further.

Hyfe was supposed to have been vaporized with the Serapis and Simon Kaine would have assumed the title of Emperor, pushing forward the final aspects of the self perpetuating political entity of Empire.


"I would have shot him, Quinn. And everything would have been different."


"If not for that creature from the future?" the Captain commented still trying to wrap his mind around the tale the Grand Marshall had relayed.

"The Empire survived even my eventual death, Quinn. The plan would have worked."

"And now?"

"Now.." Kaine whispered. "The creature's meddling distracted Hyfe. The self destruct of the warship drove the madness away where everything else failed."

"Then history has been changed, hasn't it?"

"I wonder, Quinn. I wonder. What Tale of Endings would have transpired if not for the future intervention? Would the cold hand of time make our crown of victory weigh heavily? How long does our war last?"

Kaine sighed. "Now everything is different."

His eyes watched as the figure within the tank twitched as if in a dream. "Hyfe lives and our Tale of Endings has changed.


But to what?"

He turned to the Captain. "To what?"



+ 8 hours…




“Well, I’ll be damned.” The engineer looking over a detailed scan of two pieces of debris remarked in wonder.

“What?”

“Send for the Admiral. I know what happened.” Was all he said and the Damage Control Teams suddenly were a flurry of self important activity each wanting to remain at hand to hear the latest.

The Admiral walked briskly into the large hanger bay littered with pieces of the Galactus and people milling around, sifting for answers.

“How’s the Marshall, Sir?” the Engineer asked first.

“Stabilized for now. Bacta treatment should last the rest of the night.” Chandler’s eyes narrowed. “When he wakes, he is going to demand answers. What have you got?”

“Well, sir, as you know, scans of the Galactus were nil because of the ionized hull plating. It still needed to time to discharge. What we do know is that the intermix engine startup was ordered and that the rate of damage from deck to deck indicates that the explosion did occur in engineering and not anywhere near armory stores.”

“But how?”

“That’s the tricky part, Sir. I can tell you what happened, but I cannot tell you how. You see these readings in these pieces? They show that the engines overloaded reaching the first critical mass stage of the restart.”

“But the first stage of restart has the most safeguards! Doesn't it? These safeguards are automatically powered when the intermix comes online.” Chandler shot back.

“Yes sir. I know my business.” The Engineer said not unkindly. “They were knocked offline by a short gravimetric wave burst from the gravity well generators.”

“But,” the Admiral frowned, “the gravity well generators cannot be powered until the engine matrix has fully charged and balanced.”

“Aye. They run on two separate systems and are powered differently. I can only tell you what happened, but I cannot tell you how.”

“I can.” Another older engineer said, walking up.

“What have you got?” Chandler and the other engineer nearly barked out at the same time.

“Only the possibility of how the grav generators could come online during an engine startup.” He looked up intently at the Admiral. “However, Sir, it would require this..” And he began to show them on his technical schematic.

The Admiral understood. “To do that would mean it was intentional.”

“Aye, Sir. It would.”

Admiral Chandler’s eyes glanced to a nearby pile of debris noting the blackened visor of a once red Imperial Guard uniform. The Regent had fancied surrounding himself with the entrapments of office that even Palpatine enjoyed.

How could that be done on the flagship especially with a force sensitive like Daemon Hyfe aboard? Why didn’t he suspect the danger? Did he suspect the danger?



All good questions.



“Sir. There’s an incoming communiqué from the Conclave. Eyes only.” A Comm Officer came up whispering into the Admiral’s ear.

“Thank you. Gentlemen, you’ve given me a great deal to think about.” Dismissing the Engineers.

“Give our regards to the Marshall when he gets out.” One said.

“I will.” Chandler said sincerely.

He mulled over the findings of the engineers while he made his way to his quarters. When he was alone, he called up the transmission entering his encryption sequence.

The screen brightened as the communiqué revealed itself.

After several minutes, he sat back into his chair, his eyes staring off into the distance.

“Oh… @#%$..”




*



Nanomachines!


The message from Theren Gevel was short and concise. His Conclave was under attack by an army of machines smaller than the eye could see. Already, machines were simulating Imperial warships trying to sow confusion within the defending fleets but the pattern of control seemed to be centered around the Utropollus System.

In a master stroke of brilliance, Gevel pulled all his ships save the Reign Class Destroyers off the front lines. Their special hull construction made them especially impregnable to the nanomachine infestation and attacks for they allowed the vessel's outer hull to be rendered ionized.

And from his selected fleet came ion weapons of mass yields, littering the shipping lanes and the iron will of Gevel began to show as he began to long process of reclamation, planet after planet, system after system.

Each instance, bringing him closer to the hub.

Utropollus.