The door to the room slid open casting it's yellowish hue inside. The odor was one of death. Or, more specifically, of one dying. The air circulators had stopped working (a sign of the decaying times) leaving the air particles to simply stagnate in the lack of motion. A mixture of medicines, disease-ravaged skin and the lack of cleaning facilities caused the shadow who stepped into the door way to recoil in disgust.

But only slightly for the man lying on the medical bed within was important.

Not important in the grand sense of the word for he was not a world leader, a military leader or charismatic mover of events.

No. The man on the bed merely had the distinction of being a grandfather.

A distinction that would last not much longer.

Still, out of a drab sense of duty, the young uniformed officer stood ramrod straight in the doorway as if calling the courage to enter to the fore.

Finally locating a fraction of the evasive emotion, the young man took a first few tenative steps inside and nearly fainted as the scents sharpened.

The motion caught the attention of the bed's inhabitant and his head turned in curiousity, his eyes squinting for he could only distinguish movement but not the details necessary for identification.

"Who's there?" he called out in a weak voice.

"Grandfather.." the young man voiced in reply, the taste in the air nearly gagging him.


"Telan?" the old man asked, his feeble arms pulling his face over the bed's safety bar. "Is that you?"

Before the young man could reply, the old man barked out an order.. "Lights" and the room suddenly was illuminated but not by much.

Several light panels had fallen into disrepair and those that were working also gave off a yellowish hue.

The sores on the old man's body, those scabbed over and those that still leaked, had suddenly become more evident and the grandson suddenly regretted that he had come.

As the grandfather's eyes caught sight of his grandson, resplendid in uniform they began to water slightly.

"You truly look like Herr Telan Desaria." the old man whispered.

The son, in spite of his surroundings, stood a little straighter being reminded of his namesake and the glorious traditions inherent with the name.

The boy spoke tentatively, "I am looking at a field commission, grandfather."

The older man's eyes narrowed, his mind aging but not going so feeble so as to miss the unspoken truth. "You failed the command exams at the Academy?"


"They expect us to be Simon Kaines, Bhindi Drayons or Park Krakens!"

The old man's eyes lit up. "So you figured to be a Kach Thorton?"

"At least he worked his way up the ranks!" the boy responded hotly.

The grandfather's hand let go of the bed guard and he fell back into the bed. "Son, all those soldiers worked through the ranks battling their own pesonal demons and coming out the stronger for it."

"There is not a one that never suffered defeat!" the boy cried out in frustration.

The old man's voice became sharper. "Anyone who measures their worth by a lack of defeats is a fool courting his own downfall. Anyone can win. It takes a truly experienced and talented soldier to come back from a defeat. To keep his cause alive."

"Like old Regrad?" the boy spat out.

"Especially like the old Prime Minister Regrad." the old man responded not without some anger. "A man is measured by the quality of his adversaries and in his day, High Lord and later Prime Minister Regrad was a force to be reckoned with."

A sadness crept into the old man's voice.

"Those were better days. When the Empire was the Empire. When a man was a man and when the Coalition was a pipedream of aliens. When the mystique of the Dragons had a fear all its own and Seth Vinda was a name as famous as Daemon Hyfe."

Part of the young man wanted to groan for nothing was as boring as old men retelling tales of the past. And yet, there was a part of him that was not a little curious about the 'Golden Years' of days past. The days when Simon Kaine walked the halls of Imperial Center conversing with Emperor Hyfe and old Grand Moff Zell plotting yet another victory. Back in the days when Bhindi Drayson's Black Fleet captured the imagination of the Empire and her beauty captured the hearts of the Empire's young men. When Telan Desaria captured the pomp and grandeur that was the Empire. When Park Kraken brought the grand civilization of the Empire to those worlds outside the Core and revolutionized the Mid Rim. When Kach Thorton expanded the borders of the Empire's frontier keeping the barbarism, anarchy and false ideologies far from the heart of the Empire. When Lupercus Darksword's soldiers blunted the swords of the Jedi. When the special forces units under Wes Vos waged the silent but critical war against the intelligence community of the Empire's enemies. When soldiers jumped at the opportunities presented and one could make a name and future for themselves!

The grandson could only look on with imaginary yet envious eyes.

"Tell me.." the grandson suddenly and surprisingly whispered pulling up a chair next to the bed.

The old man's eyes seemed to glaze over lost in his memories.

"I remember a time when just about all the high officials, Imperial High Command and Military Command as well as in the political ministries were gathered for an important meeting.

Everyone was there for this unprecidented meeting that was called by the Emperor and presided over by his Supreme Commander, Simon Kaine.

Exciting things were happening within the New Order..."

The old man coughed a little bit but soon took to the tale..

"I was but a Junior Lieutenant at the time and not worth a second glance by any of the Empire's elite. Still, to be in their presence was a privilege.

I remember it was the time when Ysanne Isard retired as head of Imperial Intelligence..."







The Past...
Vladet - Capital World of the Mid Rim Province



"...you can't imagine the stuff being talked about nowadays." Supreme Commander Simon Kaine was walking through Governor Kraken's Palace Garden Plaza next to the retired Grand Moff Azrael Zell. It was Zell who, as always, was talking.

"While traveling here on the ISD Talon, a freighter had been captured trying to run guns to some backwater planet. Anyway, the man was a businessman and I admired his tenacity. I would have let him go too if it had not been for his fucking strange ideas."

Kaine turned to the older man. It was not every day Zell did something on sheer principle. It was doubtful the man even had any principles. "Strange ideas?" he prompted.

"Yeah, the freighter captain wouldn't shut up about something called Post Imperial ideology. I mean, what the fuck is that? Post Imperial? Like the Empire was no longer around? I looked at the freighter captain and said, 'what the fuck do you mean, captain? The Empire is still around so how can there be a post anything?'"

"What did the captain say?"

"He tried to give me an example of how the ISD is a Post-Imperial design." Zell put up a hand, "I put that shit to rest right there. I said, 'The Talon is not a Post-Imperial Star Destroyer, you fucker. It's an Imperial Star Destroyer. An Imperial design by an Empire that is still fucking around to kick the shit out of anyone who thinks differently."


Kaine's eyebrows rose, "So you locked him up?"

Zell scowled, "Fuck no. I blew his post-living ass out an airlock."

Kaine chuckled and asked, "Zell, why do you travel so much in an ISD anyway? Surely there was a Command Craft available?"

"Not every one of us likes travelling on the fucking Galactus, Kaine. Some of us remember the Victories that got you to the ship."

Kaine winced slightly at the bad pun as the ISD Victory had been Kaine's command ship before the Reign Class design had been launched. The Victory had been under the command of Simon's best friend, Ibren Chandler, when it had suddenly disappeared with all hands at the last grand gala held on Vladet.



The entire area around the Garden Plaza on Vladet was exclusively being used for many of the officers, scientists, businessmen, and others invited to the meeting. A grand dining table created especially for this special event was being erected in the spacious palacial hall. It was shaped as a ring so that just about everyone could see everyone else and Governor Kraken had promised a dining experience seconded no none.

And so while Kaine and Zell walked their leisurely course, they were by far not the only ones waiting. Serving droids moved to and fro over the grounds to keep the Governor's guests refreshed. Some slept in predesignated rooms while others roamed the grounds intent on their own conversations.




On the other side of the grounds walked an entourage of scientists led by Nestor Camnes, Seamus Arliss of Arliss Industries and his CFO Mr. Conrad.

"There seems to be a rise in roomtemp superconductor stock." the CEO was saying to the scientist and his cronies. Dr. Camnes snorted his disdain of the subject. "Everyone wants something for nothing. Now instead of deflecting weapons fire, they want to harness it and plug it into other systems."

Seamus frowned. "Arliss Industries was looking into upping our supply of these superconductors ..."

"...with the demand going up, we are likely to reap a huge profit.." Mr. Conrad interrupted in support of his CEO.

"Perhaps," the Scientist relented. "But it will be shortterm. If you truly want to be successful in arms manufacturing, you don't throw all your eggs on one basket. You diversify and innovate because warfare and battles do not remain constant. Roomtemp Superconductors have been around for centuries. So why now the mad rush? It's like someone comes up with one good idea and then they think they can slap that good idea on all their arsenal. That type of thinking only demonstrates a reliance on theory, not practical application."

"You think the roomtemp superconductor is a bad idea to invest in?" Mr. Conrad spoke up.

"Not at all," Mr. Camnes replied. "The ability to absorb enemy weapons fire is a good idea. So you incorporate it into your personal armour units. But then,'why stop there?' one may think. Why not put it on your starfighters? On your freighters? On your capital warships?"

"Why not?" growled Mr. Arlliss. Obviously the idea had occurred to him as well.

The scientist stopped and turned to the CEO. "Mr. Arliss, what does the term 'room temperature superconductor' mean?"

Before the CEO could reply, the scientist continued, "It means that at room temperature, metal can be made to conduct electricity. Electricity. Now some goober gets the bright idea to modify it to conduct energy divots. Great! But do you know how many types of energy there are? On how many frequencies, ranges, forms, levels it can take? So yes, your grand superconductor may be effective once. Twice. As long as the superconductor is modified to accept the type of energy thrown at it. And that's assuming you are doing fighting at room temperature! If the energy is different, your conductor becomes nothing more than dead weight. If you are fighting in an environment other than room temperature, your conductor will be faulty or fail altogether!

In the genesis of conductivity, metals could only be made to conduct electricity at extreme temperatures or ranges and would be inert at room temperature. Well now, with room temperature conductors there is greater application. Well and good! But the opposite effect is applicable. If an extreme temp conductor fails or is inert at room temperature, then a room temp conductor will fail or become inert at extreme temperatures.

And what is the most extreme temperature, harshest environment known to operate machinery in?"

When everyone fell silent the scientist shouted, "SPACE you fools! Vacuum! And you want to put a roomtemp superconductor on spaceship armour!"

They resumed their walk, the corporate men thinking about the idea.

"Put it on a soldier's suit and if they are fighting in roomtemp environment, you will have a slight advantage. Put them in the tundra or desert and you've to liability. THAT is why the Empire has several suits for different environments. Poorer militaries cannot afford the diversity so they blanket all with a standard. And war is never ever standard. It is constantly changing. The nature, the environment, the rules.. .all changing.

If you spend the money to retool your machines, to refit your factories to make all this specialized crap that is going to only be 40 - 60% effective, your company and economy will eventually go belly-up.

To be on the cutting edge of military technology, it's good to have R&D. It's good to have theories. But if you are going to be successful in making money and outfitting your clients to their eventual success, you need to make decisions based on the reality of war. On the practical application of war.

Not superconductor pipe-dreams."


"So I should not invest.." Seamus concluded rather remorsefully. He had already invested some money into the idea.

"Oh, I didn't say that."

"But?"

"I don't think you should invest in the stuff as military hardware. But just as there are impractical military uses there are practical civilian uses. Mass market domestic goods utilizing the roomtemp superconductor and your public products will perform that much better and make your profit from another avenue."


As Seamus thought about that, Mr. Conrad asked, "So what is on the cutting edge of Imperial technology?"


The scientist grinned and suddenly seemed like a little kid. "Well, let me tell you..."

Stepping through the doorway from the mansion into the garden area, Park Kraken looked about the milling guests and patrons, seeing some of them talking while enjoying glasses of decanted wine and some refreshements, while others went about their buisness setting up the area for the festivities that were to take place tonight. Park was dressed in the standard white uniform of an Imperial governer, as the affair would be less of a military nature and more of an overall enjoyment and buisness sort of thing. Standing next to him, her right armed interwined with his left one, stood his wife Melina, her shorter, more slender five foot six figure, wore a stunning red silk dress, which nicely accented her finely tanned skin and black hair. By comparison, Kraken's uniform did not go too terribly well with his predominatley red hair with gray lines, but he dressed less for entertainment and more for the buisness at hand.

He finally located the pair of people that he had been searching for on the farside of the gardens. The sensors officer from his flagship, attending the party as an officer on leave, had informed him that the Grand Marshal's flagship had arrived in orbit around the planet, and so meant that he himself was on the planet here already, probably inside the mansion were the meeting and party was taking place. Now, having sighted the Marshal and his nice looking assistant, the Moff Azreal Zell, he slightly nudged his wife and began walking forward with a false sense of regal elegance, the apperance of a man who knew what he was worth and loved showing off as much of it as he could, or in other words, an egotist buffoon.

They had reached the far side of the garden a moment later, where the two aforementioned patrons were sipping on wine and enjoying their time. Kraken made sure their attention had been drawn to either him or his wife, preferrably to him, before he gestured with his right hand slightly, a signal that essentially spoke, 'welcome to this fine place'.

"Grand Marshal Kaine, Moff Zell, welcome to Vladet. It is so nice to see both of you again so soon after our last meeting. I see you are already enjoying the refreshments to be had at hand. Come, let me give you a tour of the mansion, and then I'll introduce you to the rest of my family." said Kraken, his wife's eyes sparkling as she took in the uniforms the men wore with their decorations, and the forms of the men themselves that were poured into the uniforms.

Wesley Vos was uncomfortable. No, that wasn't the word for it. He was downright miserable. He'd never liked events, so to speak; occasions for which every bit of military etiquette had to be followed precisely. Even that wouldn't have been so bad but for the intolerable dress uniform he was made to wear. Not that the Empire had not been jumping through hoops to see to the needs of its officers, but he missed his battle armor. Heck, he just missed being in the field.

He hadn't been out of it for long. In fact, this side trip to Vladet would only have him out of the action for a few days at most. But he still missed it. The feel of chasing down the enemies of the Empire, the ground beneath his feet as he ran, the high-speed swoop and speeder chases, the space battles and the feel of his Defender's control stick...

He shook his head to clear it. He couldn't afford to think about things like that now. And besides, who was to say that his services wouldn't be needed here? Gray Squadron was spread out through the crowd even now, searching for threats. There was no way to keep a meeting like this quiet, and the added security had been welcomed with open arms by the Imperial High Command.

Wes still wasn't exactly sure why he had been invited to this dinner. He still only held the rank of captain, though technically a major's commission was on its way...sometime. Even so, to dine in the presence of the greatest in the Empire - Simon Kaine, Govenor Kraken, Moff Zell...it should have been an honor. And it would have been but for the fragging uniform.

In order to clear his head, Wes called for a perimeter check by Gray Squadron. No signs of intruders. But with so many Imperial officers here, how hard would it be to slip an assassin or an infiltrator into the dinner? Wes resisted the urge to remind his men to stay alert. They knew their jobs...and he knew his.

As he began to move through the garden towards the mansion, he saw the inevitable approaching. Masking his discomfort, he stepped forward and saluted as the Big Three approached - Simon Kaine, Govenor Kraken, and Moff Zell. Etiquette required that they speak first, so he remained silent and waited.

" Oh shit - here he comes."


Simon Kaine, Marshal of the Empire and unquestioned ruler of the near-unstoppable Imperial war machine, had grown quite accustomed to the less-than sophisticated rantings of Grand Moff Zell. His allusion, however, brought a pang of curiosity that required satiating.


" Whom, Zell?"


" Him," the gruff old man replied, motioning to Kaine's left side with his sunken eyes. " The Grand Peacock of the Empire."


Kaine turned his head ever so slightly, looking past Vice-Admiral raken and his stunning wife. If there was any doubt as to whom Zell referred it was gone when his eyes saw the tall form of the consumate Imperial - Grand Admiral Telan Desaria. As always his jackboots were polished enough to shine in the lowest light. He wore an immaculate white uniform, the pants boasting the broad crimson blood-stripe of the General Staff, the sleeve of his left arm the hand-etched cuff title Imperial Guard in exquisitely scripted Gothic. As usual, a pistol hung at his left side, a Sam Browne belt of jet black leather going from the holster over his right shoulder. Completing the ensemble was the Service's most sought-after decoration, the Imperial Cross, hanging lazily at his neck.


" Oh hush, he's useful."


Grand Admiral Desaria closed the distance between the entryway and the two senior officers lesiruely. When he was close enough he stopped, came to attention. Placing his peaked visor-cap under his left arm, he gave a precise bow that could not have been more rigid were his back moulded from durasteel.


" Grand Marshal Kaine, it has been too long. Moff Zell, a pleasure as always."

Kach Thorton's entrance could only be described as fashionably late. He entered the event twenty minutes after the Grand Marshal's opening toast or whatever formality had begun it... he didn't know- he hadn't been there for it.

The place was packed almost to the brim, with the Empires elite. Grand Admirals, Grand Marshals, Grand Moffs, Govenors.
Everyone who was anyone was here.

The perfect place for him to make a few friends in high places, at least until it came time for whatever happened and they all had to settle down to listen to speeches or something.

Putting on his most charming smile, he walked into the crowd.

"Greetings, Grand Admiral..."

"Grand Marshal Kaine, Moff Zell, welcome to Vladet. It is so nice to see both of you again so soon after our last meeting. I see you are already enjoying the refreshments to be had at hand. Come, let me give you a tour of the mansion, and then I'll introduce you to the rest of my family."

Kaine nodded in stride noting the near predatorial look the Governor's wife was throwing their way. Then her eyes darted farther outward as if noticing someone beyond Kaine's peripheral vision.

"Dear, that's looks like Captain Thorton.." Kraken's wife whispered loudly to her husband.

Such knowledge of Imperial Officers on sight impressed Simon but with Kraken hosting this event, he knew the man's attention to detail bordered on the fanatic.

He knew Thorton was one of Zell's favorites, the old man griping about how finesse was boring and that sometimes all one needed to do was simply smash the enemy down and show them who was boss.

Simplistic in concept. Brutal in application. But one could not argue that it did get results.

"A tour would be delightful, Governor." Kaine murmured in response and Zell inwardly cringed. As the Governor took his place in leading them through his expansive grounds and as he was talking Zell leaned over to Kaine, "Why do I get the impression that the man wants to fuck me?"

"Zell, you think everyone wants to bed you." Kaine shot back, his gloved hand hiding his comments.

Zell stopped for a bit and looked shocked. "They do!"

Then his mouth twisted in disgust. " Oh shit - here he comes."

Kaine and Kraken stopped to see where the older man was looking only to find the ever so proper Grand Admiral Desaria, looking resplendid.

" The Grand Peacock of the Empire." muttered Zell and Kaine hid a smile.

" Oh hush, he's useful."

Zell growled under his throat but managed to stifle it as Desaria approached.

"Grand Marshal Kaine, it has been too long. Moff Zell, a pleasure as always." the Grand Admiral started and Kaine clasped the man's hand.

"Grand Admiral Desaria, I've seen the latest reports on the Guard and I must say, your fleet is one of the most impressive in the Empire!"

Zell moved past Desaria patting the Grand Admiral on the shoulder. "..like the way you keep your aliens in line, Admiral. Commendable, indeed!"

His eye wandered over to a soldier coming to attention and saluting and almost mouthed, "What the fuck do you want?" when he noted the Special Forces Ranking on the man's shoulder.

His features softened ever so slightly and he saluted the younger man. "Bring me back the head of a White Knight and I see you bumped up a rank." he charged.

Kaine, Kraken and Desaria moved closer to the Special Forces soldier. Simon asked, "How would you rate your skill against that of a White Knight?"

"Grand Marshal Kaine, Moff Zell, welcome to Vladet. It is so nice to see both of you again so soon after our last meeting. I see you are already enjoying the refreshments to be had at hand. Come, let me give you a tour of the mansion, and then I'll introduce you to the rest of my family."

Kaine nodded in stride noting the near predatorial look the Governor's wife was throwing their way. Then her eyes darted farther outward as if noticing someone beyond Kaine's peripheral vision.

"Dear, that's looks like Captain Thorton.." Kraken's wife whispered loudly to her husband.

Such knowledge of Imperial Officers on sight impressed Simon but with Kraken hosting this event, he knew the man's attention to detail bordered on the fanatic.

He also knew Thorton was one of Zell's favorites. The old man constantly griped about how finesse was boring and that sometimes all one needed to do was simply smash the enemy down and show them who was boss.

Simplistic in concept. Brutal in application. But one could not argue that it did get results.

"A tour would be delightful, Governor." Kaine murmured in response and Zell inwardly cringed. The Governor preened and took his place in leading them through his expansive grounds. As he was talking, Zell leaned over to Kaine, "Why do I get the impression that the man wants to fuck me?"

"Zell, you think everyone wants to bed you." Kaine shot back, his gloved hand hiding his comments.

Zell stopped for a bit and looked shocked. "They do!"

Then his mouth twisted in disgust. " Oh shit - here he comes."

Kaine and Kraken stopped to see where the older man was looking only to find the ever so proper Grand Admiral Desaria, looking resplendid.

" The Grand Peacock of the Empire." muttered Zell and Kaine hid a smile.

" Oh hush, he's useful."

Zell growled under his throat but managed to stifle it as Desaria approached.

"Grand Marshal Kaine, it has been too long. Moff Zell, a pleasure as always." the Grand Admiral started and Kaine clasped the man's hand.

"Grand Admiral Desaria, I've seen the latest reports on the Guard and I must say, your fleet is one of the most impressive in the Empire!"

Zell moved past Desaria patting the Grand Admiral on the shoulder. "..like the way you keep your aliens in line, Admiral. Commendable, indeed!"

His eye wandered over to a soldier coming to attention and saluting and almost mouthed, "What the fuck do you want?" when he noted the Special Forces Ranking on the man's shoulder.

His features softened ever so slightly and he saluted the younger man. "Bring me back the head of a White Knight and I see you bumped up a rank." he charged.

Kaine, Kraken and Desaria moved closer to the Special Forces soldier. Simon asked, "How would you rate your skill against that of a White Knight?"

Wes watched as the Big Three, as he had now termed them, were joined by Grand Admiral Desaria - the very image of pomp, he thought to himself - and caught himself just before he rolled his eyes. The Grand Admiral was decked out in every piece of military finery available to his rank, and the gleam of his boots nearly blinded the Captain. That just wasn't natural. Wes preferred the dirt and grime of a battlefield to this...this mess.

His salute returned, Wes dropped back to attention as the charge was leveled. Bring me back the head of a White Knight and I see you bumped up a rank. Wes nearly chuckled. Here was something with which he could deal. "Your pardon, Sir," he replied, "but I serve for the glory of the Empire, not myself. For the New Order, I would do such a thing, if it was required of me."

Then came the question, a follow-up it seemed, though it did seem a little strange. After all, Grand Marshall Kaine had not even asked his name. With the Imperial intelligence network, though, Kaine probably already knew everyone who would be attending, as well as their background, service record, and who knew what else. "How would you rate your skill against that of a White Knight?"

A judicious answer was needed here. "Grand Marshall," he replied, "patriotism requires that I supply an answer that indicates the destruction of the Knight. However, to be perfectly honest, having never faced one in fair combat, I am as of yet unsure. I believe I could best a Knight, and I would wager heavily on any of my men as well. But my strength is not necessarily in individual combat, Sir. I fight alongside my squadrons, and as a team we are unbeatable."

That should be a sufficient answer, Wes thought. A bit long, perhaps. Nervousness? Nah. What have I to be nervous of? Besides the fact that these men hold the future of my career in their hands. Wes was beginning to ache. Standing at attention in this kriffing uniform was beginning to chafe more than his nerves. But what was a little discomfort to him? He'd seen the worst the Empire could dish out after his defection, and he'd survived. He could stand the chafing for a few hours. Of course, he could have spared himself the problem. It would have meant wearing his dress uniform more than once every two or three standard years, but Wes wasn't about to do that. Besides, it didn't take much effort to hide his discomfort. He was used to it by now.