Imperial Staging Area, fourth Moon of Yaga Minor


“ Impressive, wouldn’t you say Admiral?”


“ It is indeed.”


Captain Derick Yerlinn smiled to himself. The ships arrayed ever so carefully above the dark green mass of Bastion had been deployed so to catch the newly arrived Admiral’s awe. Not for many months had such a formation been assembled for the purpose of something other than a parade. Hostile actions had permeated Imperial deployment, forcing an ever-increasing burden onto smaller ships of the Customs Service or Civil Defense Force. Patrol craft, picket ships, and light frigates were being built by the hundreds but they were simply too few in number to oppose the illicit forces that sought to reign.


“ Impressive indeed. You have gone through too much trouble for me.”


Yerlinn’s eyes widened imperceptibly as he turned from the skiff’s sprawling viewpane to the immaculate officer beside him. “ Sir?”


“ It is obvious you have attempted to daze me into something, though exactly what that is remains to be seen. Do not try my patience, Captain. I consider myself a lenient officer, but if you attempt to curtail my authority I will have you floating in space. I understand that before I arrived, you commanded this. Now I do. Understood?”


The inward smile once palatable just behind the Captain’s face had been wrenched from its happy existence and replaced by a scowl. There was, however, not a thing Yerlinn could do.


“ Of course, sir. Our ship is there.” Yerlinn pointed.


Admiral Telan Desaria turned his head ever so slightly to follow the Captain’s lanced finger towards the imposing hull of a Reign-class Star Destroyer. Over two thousand meters of raw power boasting eight fighter squadrons and a more than enough troops to reduce any pocket of resistance or defiance sat in its glory before them.


“ That, Captain, impresses me more than anything.”


The Chief of the General Staff allowed a smile to crease his young yet worn face as he beamed with pride. For the first time in over a year he was going to assume command of an Imperial Star Destroyer and the squadron along with it. Many scars dotted and crossed the Kuati Baron’s body bringing in a fleshed reality the evidence of many a battle of many a warship. There was not one he would trade for anything in the universe, Known or otherwise. The missions, the men, the experience, the camaraderie had composed the man he was today. Without any part of them, Telan Desaria might have become a disabled veteran retiree instead of the youngest Flag Officer in the Imperial Navy.


“ We’re approaching the landing bay.”


The voice of the yacht’s pilot reminded the Admiral of where he was but snatched him not from his sentimental and wholly nostalgic reverie. The Siege of Brentaal, the Battle of Khomm, the Massacre of Talus – all fond memories of the nobleman’s military career. The officers who had served with him and remained friends for many years after: Captain Eric Lassont, Major Folkurt van der Whey, Brigadier General Matthis Ariem, Sergeant Major of the Fleet Rathii MisHarrieen.


“ After you, Admiral.”


Captain Yerlinn gestured towards the lowered aft boarding ramp with an outstretched hand. His cuff title shown brightly in the radiance of the Destroyer’s primary launch bay – Imperium. The Admiral saw that and quickly rethought his initial appraisal of his new right hand man. The Flotilla Imperium had been decimated in the Battle of Orinda five years before, the survivors all being hailed as heroes for their valiant sacrifice. Those that remained, despite their overwhelming numbers of decorations and accolades suffered from rampant nightmares and hysteria rsulting from the slaughter. The Captain’s paranoia and method was now completely understandable. That he was still in uniform and an officer no less was a feat beyond belief.


Desaria composed himself to shield the revalation from his face and adjusted his tunic with a tug of his free hand. The other found a comfortable resting place atop the holster hanging at his right. Slowly and deliberately the Admiral of the Fleet made his way down the boarding ramp. His jackboots which as always could have reflected light from even a black hole they were so well polished sounded vibrantly throughout the confines of the shuttle. With every step more of the launch bay around him came into view. The TIE racks hung loftily above held in place by reinforced durasteel cables and girders of ferroplast. On either side of a lined corridor stood a seething yet ordered sea of white armor contained only by the far walls of the hangar.


“ The 1st Battalion of the 40th Jager Regiment.” The Admiral nodded, just overhearing the Captain’s whisper from behind. A group of three officers stood at attention a small distance into the mass of bone-white soldiers, two wearing the traditional olive of the Fleet and the other the dark blue of the Imperial Fighter Corps.


Admiral Baron Desaria came to a stop two meters from the most advanced of the trio who snapped a sharp salute when the ship’s captain came to attention to the Admiral’s left.


“ May I present to you the Imperial Star Destroyer Autarch. I am Commander Alexis Travell, ship’s executive officer.”


Desaria regarded the man, shorter than he by only a hair’s length. The piercing eyes of red he flashed burned with a fire that could have scalded ash. A dark head of jet black hair topped of the ensemble creating the spit and polish image a martinet of an executive officer should.


“ Lieutenant Commander Farvell Ravieau, Tactical Commander and Ship’s Second Officer.”


This man was as short as officer’s came but had a chest full of medals and decorations belying any implication that his size had been a detractor in his career. The haughty expression on his face seemed to bare the accompanying scars with pride.


“ Colonel Vorishilov Rotanksy, Commander of the Attached Fighter Compliment. I served under you on the Rothgar.”


The Admiral smiled and returned their salutes. Only one thought pervaded – It’s good to be back…

New Imperial Ubiqtorate Base | Yaga Minor

At any present moment over a world held by the New Order, a formidible array of warships was to be expected. Most were supported by a small flotilla of picket ships, small craft of no real consequence, deployed to give the populance an assurance that the Empire was their, protecting them. And they were more than enough to protect them from the various pirates and smugglers that attempted to infringe on the freedom of the Imperial people.

Other worlds, though, had entire fleets filling their skies, casting dark angular shadows on the earth below. The site of Imperial Star Destroyers in orbit had always been a mixed blessing; an incontrovertible guarantee of the Empire's ability to protect, but at the same time a clear symbol that they would tolerate no insubordination.

One such craft, more than two kilometres in length and bristling with offensive weaponry, laid at stationkeeping on the sole authorized entry route to Yaga Minor's out orbit. The long, angular design, the dark black hull that blocked out the stars behind her, the silvery-blue Imperial crest flanking her hull with the words Ubiqtorate stamped around the upper arc in large, bold letters, gave the Nirvana a sinister appearence as she hovered in space, holding station along Yaga Minor's sole authorized entry route.

Every now and then, the sensors of the massive warship would reach out to scan the various ships emerging from the embrace of hyperspace, and communications would demand answers from their crew. No ships would enter the Ubiqtorate world without having first seen, first hand, the infinite authority and jurisdiction of the Galactic Empire.

The holographic sensor dislay hovered in the middle of the room, the dark red spots indicating the cluster of Imperial warships gathering around Yaga Minor's fourth moon.

"They are wonderful, aren't they Captain?" Admiral Bhindi Drayson asked as the door to the chamber hissed open with the customary Imperial efficiency.

Joda, master of the Star Destroyer Nirvana, was taken aback by the words. The conference room was darkened, the only light coming from the shimmering hologram and from the distant stars, shining in through the open viewports.

He cleared his throat, nodding for a moment before finally overcoming his surprise at finding the room occupied and speaking. "The Empire has done a find job recovering from the devestation of Wrath, m'lady." He said, looking to the hologram, which had now shifted to a close up view of the Reign Class Star Destroyer that was their flagvessel.

Bhindi chuckled lightly and smiled, not turning from the plexiglass viewports that lined one entire wall of the ship. "I admit, Captain, that those ships out there are beautiful. But I had in mind more ...distant... matters." Joda stepped around the table and caught sight of the Admiral, her black uniform jacket discarded on the table in front of her, staring through the viewports at the stars that were so distant.

"You have a report, Captain?" She said, the dreaminess vanishing from her voice. She was, again, all business.
"Just the regular from the bridge." He replied.
"Nothing unusual?"
"Nothing of note, Admiral. It's quiet out there." Neither of them said aloud the old cliche, almost to quiet.
"I have a feeling that it will not remain that way for long." She fiddled with a control on the side of the table for a moment, and the lights returned to normal. Joda did not reply, simply stood there and looked expectant. "Sit down, Captain. What do you know about Telan Dessaria?"

Joda considered for a moment, looking out at the fleet hovering over the fourth moon.

"Aristocrat, joined the Imperial Academy and quickly rose to the rank of Admiral. Participated in a bunch of campaigns under Grand Admiral Hyfe, he spearheaded the first attacks on the New Republic after the Empire took Coruscant. He kind of disappeared after that. Desk job on Imperial Centre, or something like that."

Bhindi inclined her head in a slight nod and smiled. "Not any more, Captain." She rose, picking up the discarded jacket and pulling it back on. Joda, now both confused and slightly worried, followed her out the door and into the brightly lit cooridor.

"Admiral Dessaria just got a hold of a new command from Coruscant. He used to have the Brass Protectrate - did you know that, Captain?" Joda shook his head. He had not known that particular detail. "He's moving his new command out immediatly, a sort of trial run if you will. He's asked the Ubiqtorate for assistance, in case things turn out to be more difficult than expected."

Joda cast an eye out one of the viewports as they passed. The warships hovering over Yaga's fourth moon were difficult to make out at this distance, but they were there.

"He'll be taking his fleet to Hutt Space - Nal Hutta, more specifically, in order to bring that region of space under our direct control." Her tone did not disclose whether by 'our', she meant the Empire Proper, or the Ubiqtorate itself. "There are some reports of military action already taking place in that sector, so the Admiral has asked for a little support. Just in case."

"Admiral," Joda started, "are you sure we have equipment to spare for that? The Empress Teta expansion is already a serious drain on our resources. If we devote more to aide Admiral Dessaria, it is possible, however unlikely, that the Coalition or someone else will exploit our vulnerability and attack the Ubiqtorate."

Bhindi offered him a thin smile.
"I have considered the dangers, Captain. I will mantain enough force here that our citizens need not concern themselves with their safety. Nal Hutta, and it's moon, are hives of criminal activty. They will not pose a serious threat to the New Order."

She left Joda standing at the doorway to her chambers. Sighing, he turned away at stalked towards the bridge. He was not heard to mutter, under his breath, "I'm sure Vader said the same thing about Han Solo and the Millenium Falcon."

Port Conference Room, Aft of the Bridge
Reign-class Star Destroyer Autarch

Fourth Moon of Yaga Minor

“ Have you ever considered space, Captain?”


Captain Yerlinn sat relaxed at the far head of the room’s elongated table, legs propped up on its reflective obsidian surface. He spotted a stray strand of non-vacuated hair lounging ever so carelessly on the surface of his left jackboot and gave it a swatting shove with one fast hand movement. At his Admiral’s question, he arched an eyebrow in puzzlement. “ No, sir, I can’t say I have.”


Admiral Desaria took in a deep breath and brought his hands to rest at the small of his back. The decking underneath his feet moved in tandem with the Destroyer’s hull around them in orbit near northern polar cap of an azure moon below.


“ Science would have us believe that the universe never ends. Here we sit in one galaxy containing billions of worlds yet beyond the boundaries of Known Space lie a trillion other galaxy each with millions of systems ripe for the taking. Yet here we sit squabbling over scraps in the grand scheme of things. Have you ever wondered why?”


The newly-appointed commander of the First Destroyer Squadron stood with his eyes averted into the stars littering the panorama of Yaga Minor, Captain Yerlinn still at ease behind. To say the least, thoughts of his Admiral’s mental state were beginning to cross the Captain’s mind. “ No sir.”


“ Perhaps it is because we, the inhabitants of this small galaxy, know subconsciously that we will never breach that barrier in our life time. Some nagging sense of finiteness. Instinct in even the highest of beings. This sense breeds hostility and territoriality bringing to the surface the most basic feelings of survival of ones self and one’s state. Any who have these feelings not in the least can be said to be, what, Captain?”


The Admiral finally brought his head slowly around to face his flagship’s commander. The mood had been set to a relaxed, informal tone between officers, so the Captain’s posture was not one of contention. Instead, the Admiral regarded his immediate subordinate with a look of bemusement for the quizzical look upon the other’s façade.


“ Abnormal, sir?”


“ Not just abnormal, Captain, but evolutionary rejects. Those who seek not to build or conquer but subvert and defy can be said to be completely abhorrent to the order of things.”


Captain Yerlinn now wore a mask of complete confusion. The conversation had been brought forth from sheer nothingness making the dialogue all the more puzzling.


“ Criminals, Captain. I want you to understand what we are dealing with.”


The Captain’s eyes fluttered as he brought his legs to bare under the table proper. “ We are going to fight pirates???”


“ Stow your indignity, Captain,” Desaria bit out, quickly brushing aside the all-too-hastily deployed attitude of his executive. “ Our mission is of course more than eliminating some rogue pirate nest or crushing some obscure smuggling ring. Look around you – Imperial Star Destroyers! They are not wasted on assignments.”


Yerlinn looked every bit the part of a chastened school boy who stood corrected. If possible, the man shrunk deep into the purple padding of the chair.


“ You know Hutt Space? Fifty systems worth of lawless chaos. The Empire has always prided itself on bringing order to chaos, and so we shall again. This squadron and the troops attached to it shall see that the region becomes Imperial. We will eliminate the criminal scourge therein and bring civility and culture to a region that has too long been without. You now know of our mission. A complete briefing is in your chambers. I expect the ship’s senior staff informed within the next four hours. I will communicate to the other commanders our orders.”


“ As ordered, Admiral.” Yerlinn was quick to his feet with a click of his heels.


“ We depart in five hours. Set course for the sixth planet of the Nemoidia System. Inform when all preparations for the jump are complete.”


Yerlinn bowed low. “ Yes, my Lord.”

OOC- Uhh, wanted to let you guys know that CCB is currently involved in a takeover of Nal Hutta and Nar Shadda.

The post is called "Wheeling and Dealing" and is being run by Treast Fey'laya and his Hutt characters Plurga the Hutt.

Don't know what should happen, but thought this might be important.....

(The New Order is always aware of what other people are doing, Mr. Kre Fey. As we are aware that the Combined Clans are currently taking Nal Hutta and Nar Shadda. However, you will note the lack of those names from Telan's posts (he is the leader of this thread). You should speak with him.)

(I knew that, too. Strange...)

(Lebron = Not Telan)

Imperial Reign-class Star Destroyer Autarch

En-route to Nemoidia


“ Admiral, may I steal a moment of your time?”


Baron Desaria arched an eyebrow and slightly titled his head to get something of a glance to his rear. An officer in the khaki uniform of the Imperial Army stood there filling every pit the stereotypical field commander. His hair was as white as the stars whirring past in the depths of hyperspace though not appearing to thin whatsoever. Set deep into his masculine but weathered face was a pair of emerald eyes that were as charming as tired. Behind the entire façade sat a virile man of forty who had lost his wife only a year after marriage and had immersed himself in the work of war ever since.


“ Of course, General Maxim. Walk with me.”


Desaria turned towards the prow and Maxim fell in beside him. Running around them the entire length of the ship was the starboard corridor that exposed all underneath a canopy of thick transparisteel to the majesty of space. On the opposite flank of the warship ran the port corridor; both met at the bow where many officers and crew alike preferred to take their meals when not in action.


“ I was wondering, sir, what action my men were going to have in this. My brigade has been trained as others so I can guarantee our bets for any given duty. I train them hard Admiral.”


The Chief of the General Staff held up a comforting hand and smiled. “ Rest at ease, General. The ability of you and your men is not in question. Now. You have excelled at both anti – pirate operations and rapid planetary assaults, yes?”


He seemed to beam at which Desaria continued. “ That is exactly why I requested you for this posting. We will be doing both in great numbers. I’ve never been into Hutt Space, and chances are neither have you. Krif, I would wager half of my estate that no more than a dozen officers in this squadron have ever passed through it.”


“ I can imagine that High Command has made this a need to know operation. But if I may, what exactly is our goal?”


The Admiral had expected such a question, the same one from every senior officer in the formation. They had all been given operational orders drafted by the Imperial High Command, but those had been broad and vague, a simple overview of what was to be expected.


“ We are going to tame as much of Hutt Space as we can. Several of my colleagues on the General Staff fear that the recent flare up of civil war in the Tion Cluster could spread into this region. In order to forestall such a thing, they believe occupying that region will give us a bulwark to contain the unrest and then expand along the Rim. At the same time we gain prestige and success after quelling the most lawless sector of the galaxy.”


“ I intimate from your tone, sir, you are not in full agreement with it.” It was more of a statement that the polite question the Lieutenant General had crafted it to be.


Desaria laughed as he gave a returned a salute to a pair of passing cadets. “ I did not originate it nor do I agree it is the best course of action right now, but it has merits. We can simply not let ourselves get bogged down. Coruscant issued a decree last week that declared the entire region to be under the protection of the Empire and under martial law. The criminals laughed, and now we are here to show the flag.”


“ Why Nemoidia, sir.”


“ General, you have more questions that an Army officer usually does. Perhaps you were a Fleet officer in your last life.” Both shared a chuckle before the superior continued. “ Attached are fifteen frigates I can’t use. I’ve reassigned them to more training near Bastion and we’ll offload them there. That leaves us with seven Destroyers total. More than enough to route an army of pirates, thieves, and smugglers.”


“ Of course, sir.”


Desaria smiled. “ General, come with me. It’s about time for lunch.”


“ Delighted, Admiral.”




Ylesia – Independently Controlled Planetary System


That was easy enough.


A blast of cool air whooshed out of a small duct on a side of the seemingly endless wall that surrounded the palace of Firra the Hutt. One of the many Gamorreans trained so lasily for the guarding of numerous Hutt crime families shuddered, his body unused to lower temperatures of any kind. Gamorr itself was a world that rarely dropped below fifteen degrees centigrade and never below ten; the guard’s posting at the southern entrance by the maintenance must have been a punishment for some transgression committed against the Hutt’s sensitivities.


Having made it through the nearby sentry post by the road itself, the guard simply waved on the small repulsor-truck marked with the logo of a local ventilation repair service. Behind the sallow – painted wall, itself very out of place among smuggler’s shanties, illegal maintenance facilities, arms merchant supply shops, and sprawling warehouses, each and every one some dull color. Though not the tallest series of structures in the planet’s quasi-capital city, it was by far the most soothing.


Another being, this one human, waved the truck over by a small blockhouse from which grew pipes and shafts of all kinds. Atop the structure sat an old but operable orbital transmitter likely coupled to link with some commandeered deep-space satellite. For ease of security, a computer core and the complex’s environmental systems were kept together.


“ Bout frellin’ time you got here. Da’ boss is havin’ a Huttling!”


From the cab of the squat vehicle emerged a tall human with immaculately trimmed hair but not so well kept facial growth. To kiss him one would have to brave the stubble of four days’ not shaving. His eyes were a piercing blue and sunken into his face. To look at him in his sullen mechanic’s jumpsuit and then his powerfully built arms one would never know he was rapidly approaching fifty. Unlike everything else deep in Hutt Space, the highly decorated Agent of Imperial Intelligence had aged gracefully.


“ Well then, you ‘best be telling me what the problem is! Your man on the phone just said to get over here.”


The human sporting an equally rugged look about him thumbed the safety on his MerrSonn blaster pistol. Like the wind he howled, only his sound had a hint of laughter to it. “ That’s Rekki! Boss’s EmmDee. Barely speaks Basic.” Without another word, the guard turned about and keyed in an access to a door behind him.


Agent Horris made a mental note: Opinion of Guards as to Rekki’Serrat, Hutt’s Majordomo, very low. Passing through the entrance he was appalled at the condition of…everything. Nearly every piece of equipment was different from another and nothing was uniform. Pipe sections had been hastily welded together hissing from leaks at every connection – none of which was the same size. Control consoles that blinked the only light within the room’s expanse were covered with grime and soot. Horris, an engineer before being drafted into Intelligence, was astonished anything worked at all. Surprisingly, some of it did. What didn’t was anyone’s guess.


“ So...what, exactly, is broken?”


“ Warm air compressor. Old Rendilli system got from a Dreadnaught. Hot as hell inside!”


Horris cringed. The blast of cold air when he arrived signaled at least one broken ventilation nexus. To top that, systems used on every generation of Rendilli Dreadnaught Heavy Cruisers was built to push air through six hundred meters of warship and had doubtless overloaded whatever power source was trying to feed it.


“ Have fun!”


The door closed behind Horris and he immediately noticed how cool the room was. It was the most comfortable room in the Hutt’s palace undoubtedly and for that he was very thankful. He went right by broken compressor to the filthy but modern computer core and got to work.

Imperial Reign-class Star Destroyer Autarch

Nemoidian System



“ Admiral, I must say: I am surprised the Nemoidians haven’t complained about us using their system as a way point for an invasion.”


Admiral of the Fleet Baron Desaria turned his head to the side, a smile evident on his full lips. “ Oh, they did. But very softly and very cordially. They know how close they are to the Corellian squadron and are not going to risk offending the Empire. At the drop of a hat, Moff Darksword would dispatch a few cruisers here for live fire exercises. All I would have to do was mention target practice and this system in the same sentence to tacitly voice High Command’s approval.”


“ Ah. How wise the Nemoidians are these days.”


“ I would never think any less of them! They didn’t run the Trade Federation by being stupid.”


Captain Yerlinn shared in the Admiral’s smile then gazed towards the system’s white dwarf sun. Several millions years from now, that sun would morph again to neutron star then fade into a black hole – a very short time in astronomical terms. Nevertheless, in its final moments of radiance it was a beautiful sight to behold.


“ Sir, all preparations are ready for departure.” Yerlinn nodded to the yeoman turned then disappeared into the anonymity of the bridge crew from whence he had come. Desaria likewise received the message that the battleships’ escorts had departed for the Core.


“ Admiral, we are ready to get underway. All other ships in the squadron report ready.”


Desaria nodded and strode the several meters back to his chair. Adjusting his tunic he sat into its soft leather warmth and issued the orders needed to begin the final leg of the 1st Heavy Destroyer Squadron’s journey into history. “ All ships, fall into formation. Orient off of the Autarch and designate course corrections.”


“ Aye sir,” replied several officers throughout the bridge. With the lumbering grace of mighty ships of the line two Imperial III-class Destroyers perched themselves off the port and starboard haunches of the squadron’s command ship. All others formed a battle line behind the detachment’s lance-head.


“ All ships in formation, Admiral.” Yerlinn came to attention behind the Admiral at the aft end of the catwalk.


“ Very good. Recall pickets and complete pre-flight examination of all flight racks – I don’t want to lose any of my fighters due to negligence.”


Minutes later, an ‘all-clear’ was called from every men of war.


“ Navigator, designate completed course and heading for Objective I.”


A young midshipman turned from his station and the two enlisted men working under him. “ Three-five-one mark zero-niner-four.”


Desaria nodded and Yerlinn took over. “ Make speed for hyperspace. Slave all navicomputers to your console.” When an acknowledgement came from the port crew pit, he bellowed,” Helmsman, engage course three-five-one mark zero-niner-four.”


“ Aye sir. Course laid in for...Ylesia.”


“ Engage.”

Ylesia – Independently-Controlled Planetary System

Arrival Time of Imperial Squadron – 14 hours, 52 minutes


Outside the complex of crime lord Firra the Hutt, the rust colored dusk sky was slowly giving way to night. Somewhere high above a dim yet present energy shield hummed its daily rhythm of purpose. Were it possible given the already astounding levels of criminal activity during the day, the illicit dealings of denizen and guest alike increased substantially when the pale light of day broke. What stood for a planetary police force – those brave souls who had not yet been corrupted or bribed – hastily retreated.


Lights shimmered into life in perhaps half of the demi-capital city. Many people had either not paid a local overlord or some greedy city official for their power allotment and were forced to sit in darkness. On Imperial worlds power came freely; on Ylesia, the hydrogenation facility off of the Nevuss River was run by Zirrot, a dangerously thin yet lithe Falleen. Officials had to pay him for their supply – a quite exorbitant sum to be sure – and thusly had to charge their customers outrageously to make any money at all. The intelligent but unlucky few to hack into supply conduits were carefully and painfully liquidated by the Falleen’s enforcer squads.


All in all, if only for its illegal mystique, the panorama of the Ylesian capital was a pretty sight to behold for Agent Horris as he casually glanced through an open, broken, and dirty air vent. Shaking his head, he returned to work.


For three hours, the dull but powerful human guard who persisted on spying inside the blockhouse had watched the Intelligence operative carefully. For three hours, Agent Horris tinkered and toyed with the ventilation system. Once he had repaired it, the guard stopped looking in at all. Before he could leave, the cold air compressors kicked in and filled the Hutt’s palace with a Hoth-like breeze. Offered another fifty credits per hour, the undercover maintenance man returned to the blockhouse to repair the compressor.


There was, however, no repair necessary. The Agent had orchestrated every action leading to the operation of the cold air compressor. Now, left to his own devices and partially trusted by the guard outside the room’s thick brick walls, he could concentrate on his objective – the Computer Core.





Imperial Reign-class Star Destroyer Autarch

Arrival Time of Imperial Squadron – 12 hours, 29 minutes


Five officers were assembled with Admiral Baron Desaria in his spacious office two decks below the bridge of his command ship. Captain Mait Yerlinn, commander of the Autarch and outspoken officer of thirteen years’ experience, was the last to enter the conference. His seat was reserved to the far right of a semi-circle of chairs before the Admiral’s desk. Occupying the others were his ship’s fighter officer, tactical chief, and ground forces commander. Standing behind the seated Admiral was Desaria’s chief adjutant, a diminutive but naturally bright Lieutenant Commander of perhaps twenty five.


“ Welcome, Captain. A drink?” The Admiral was wearing his olive Fleet uniform, having decided earlier not to wear the grey General Staff uniform that set him apart from the typical flag officers. The Imperial Cross with Oak Leaves and Sabres still hung regally around his neck, and he had every right to be proud of it. The subsequent awards to that highest of Imperial Decorations had been for tactical brilliance or victory: its original issuing was for his selfless assumption of command the light cruiser he and his Academy classmates were training on when it fell under Rebel attack.


Yerlinn nodded politely and was pleased at the emerald tinted liquid held in a clear decanter at the edge of his commander’s desk. He recognized it as one of his favorites – Tarkallian Ale. One of the Captain’s many past times, though not in excess, was drinking. As a cadet himself, the habit had gotten him into trouble teaching him the moderation he now exercised without exception.


The Captain poured himself a reasonable amount into a small jade-colored glass and sat back into his seat. The other of the Autarch’s senior officers appeared to be in a relaxed state and so he joined them. Instead of the briefing he expected, Admiral Desaria was going to attempt to find a suitable ground to interact with the officers he would be closely associating with over the course of his mission. To a man they each had their own glasses and were enjoying the informal nature of the gathering. Many an Admiral and Commodore had done this on the eve of battle. Whether Desaria was filling tradition or genuinely believed in the camaraderie it created Yerlinn did not know.


“ We were just discussing Ylesia. Have you ever been there?”


Yerlinn took a sip of the alcohol as he pondered the Admiral’s question. The answer was simple – no. But he wanted to add more, to seem more important than a simple dismissal. The wine was well fermented and eased down his throat after it left a pleasant taste in his mouth.


“ I’ve heard many great things but when my wife finally settled the divorce I no longer had any interest in the suicidal nature of a vacation there.”


Every one shared a laugh, and even the Admiral’s adjutant belied the persona those of his position imbued in public, allowing a grin to cross his youthful face.

“ Well,” Desaria said, doing his best to regain his regal composure. “ It would seem that none of us have ever spent anytime in Hutt Space. And, unfortunately, that is where our mission takes us. There and nowhere else. The duty of this squadron, its trail by fire as it were, is to reduce the entire region – “


Colonel Laughton, young, brash, and daring commander of the flagship’s fighter compliment allowed his face to twist into a wretched visage of disgust and disbelief. His predecessor had been removed from command only a day before after suffering a grievous wound when a TIE rack had snapped crushing the officer’s legs. He was in the ship’s infirmary in guarded condition: his role in the campaign was now nill. “ Hutt Space is at least four sectors total! Six Destroyers is not enough! One Core System boasts as many! And we’re to take four crime-infested sectors!”


The Admiral smiled and nodded cordially. He did not want to reprimand the officer for his outburst. To do so would be highly hypocritical since he himself doubted the efficacy of the plan. As the squadron’s commander, however, his job was to do the very things deemed by all else as impossible. As Chief of the General Staff he had objected on purely logical grounds but his peers had been correct. Action needed to be taken immediately lest another power seize the region, and the force at hand was all that was available.


“ – in the name of the Empire. We will establish a base and operate from it, raiding the bases of the criminal syndicates and crushing them one at a time. Reinforcements will be made be allocated as they are available. The ships coming off of the line now cannot be amalgamated into units until they have drilled and formed the team spirit a ship must depend on for success. I would rather only six unified crews than a dozen disparate and unsure ones.”


The Admiral’s eyes scanned the room. Even Colonel Laughton nodded in assent. He was correct, though that did not matter for he was the Admiral in command. They knew their task would be a difficult one but one they had to do for the glory of the Empire. Either they would be lauded as victorious or die in the attempt to attain success.


Desaria’s face became a mask of seriousness. He took one final sip of his ale and placed the empty glass on the edge of his desk. “ Gentlemen, our mission is dangerous. I harbor no illusions about how many of us will return home. Victory is life. If not for us, then for those who live to celebrate it.”

Imperial Reign-class Star Destroyer Autarch

Arrival Time of Imperial Squadron – 1 hour, 49 minutes


The full extent of the task before them had by now been read or announced for all crews to hear. Morale was high, especially on the flagship. Admiral of the Fleet Baron Desaria had a reputation for using the fewest resources available to achieve amazing results. They felt confident, and so did he. To look in their faces and see the eagerness that greeted him, the Kuati gentleman erased any doubt or misgivings from his mind. These men by and large had seen combat before, but never as a whole. They felt as a unit, drilled as a unit, and looked the part of a united crew. The fears a commander felt when taking untried ships into the hellish fires of war were few on the Admiral’s mind or that of his flag captain.


“ When the jump timer clicks down to one hour, sound general quarters and bring all crews to battle stations. Run a hostile entry simulation. If they perform as expected, keep them at their posts but give them some rest. Resume full readiness when the timer is down to twenty minutes.”


“ As ordered, Admiral.” Yerlinn came to attention, bowed, and then disappeared into the milieu of the aft control corridor.


Colonel Laughton stood near the bridge guards at the mouth of the corridor, nervously looking about the various officers of the bridge. Following the untimely and wholly unexpected removal of his superior, he had been elevated from Chief of Staff to Wing Commander and was anxious about his own performance. Like every other staff officer in the Fleet, he had combat experience and only now did not sit in the cockpit of a fighter as a result of some shrapnel lodged in his upper leg preventing him from moving it as fast as he needed to: a TIE pilot who could not use his rudder pedals to adjust attitude was useless.


The Colonel also did not wish to be on the bridge. He would most likely rather be giving last minute briefings to his men, inspecting machines, and reassuring pilots. Like all good commanders, he wanted to be among his men. The Admiral noticed and dismissed him; replying with a knowing and appreciate nod and smile, Laughton too disappeared.





Arrival Time of Imperial Squadron – Now


“…Reversion complete. Hyperspace drive powering down.”


“ Raise deflector shields fore and aft. Keep an even grid until further notice.”


Admiral Desaria sat with his hands folded before him, partially obscuring the southernmost portion of the planet below his flagship. He did not need to see it with his eyes to know it was Ylesia.


“ Status?”


Yerlinn turned to the ship’s chief navigator who nodded enthusiastically. The Captain replied,” all ships are in formation, sir.”


“ Very well. Deploy three squadrons of Defenders and one of Devils. Keep the Devils back in picket positions; form the Defenders for melee action. Continue scans for hostile craft.”


“ Aye sir,” the CommScan chief responded.


“ Captain, begin broadcasting on all frequencies High Command’s Annexation Order and Declaration of Martial Law.”


“ Very ell, s-“


The acknowledgement could not be completed as the tactical commander, hovering over a small plot table amidst the four crewmen under him snapped his head up to the Admiral and reported an alarm. “ A Planetary Shield has been activated! Sporadic area coverage, equivalent to an old Class XVIII.”


Yerlinn arched his left eyebrow. “ We don’t even give those to weather monitoring stations!”


Desaria smiled but admonished his flag captain never to underestimate an opponent.


“ Enemy deployment – Grid 19-Zeta, behind the primary moon. Twenty snubfighters, four corvettes, one armed civilian yacht.”


“ Designate targets Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta for the corvettes, Echo for the yacht. Send specs and analysis to all battery commanders.”


The Captain was readying his ship for battle, as was his mandate. The Admiral was concerning himself with the bigger picture. “ Maintain formation. Increase speed to one-half. Are they complying with our order to stand down and ready themselves for inspection?”


The CommScan chief nodded negatively.


“ As expected. When we reach maximum effective range, open fire with heavy turbolasers. Continual fire – six salvoes.”


The time it took the Autarch with its two flanking Imperial III-class Star Destroyers to reach effective range was minimal as they had exited hyperspace very close to the system itself. Surprise was not a great concern, for a squadron of Star Destroyers terracing through space was rarely subtle. When they did, a sheet of blinding neon light cascaded from the angular prow of the three wedge-shaped titans, showering their enemy with lethal force and energized death.


The order came for the second salvo to be readied, but there remained nothing to shoot at.