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In the Hands of Mortals

Dominic walked up to the old Moff and kissed his cheek. "I am off to yet another secret location. I've the material loaded up and our cadre is ready."

"Let me know what you find out Dominic. If worse comes to worse, we will need to be efficient in destroying these little bastards."









Phase II
Xenomicrobiological Laboratory
Unknown Location


Dominic looked into the microscope with an annoyance she hadn’t felt since the transport mislabeled a pair of Jawa skin samples for biogenetic manipulation.

Squinting, she began to enter her readings once more into the computer her assumption being that she misinterpreted what she saw.

“Second DNA strand…” she mumbled counting down the individual characteristic sequences until she came back upon what disturbed her before.

She called a colleague over to correlate as she rubbed her eyes. Too much caff, she thought. To much..

“Dom. This can’t be right.” The other startled out as they bent over refocusing the large microscopic lense.

At that point she knew he had seen it too.

At that point, she realized what the findings meant.

At that point, the nature of their enemy just changed.

At that point, she understood.










Third Fleet
Improcco – Fortress world of Simon Kaine
Advanced Tactical Planning – Metaphysics


Simon Kaine paced the dark obsidian floor of the rather small chamber. Seated above, encircling the floor were men and women handpicked. These people were special. These were a people that did not exist (at least officially). The room was known to the members as the “Think Tank” and it was here where agendas were advanced, long term purposes realized and the supremacy of the Empire ensured on all levels…on all fronts.

It was a powerful mindset that pushed Imperial expansion ever forward crowding out all opposing thoughts. It was a mindset carefully crafted, an arrogance backed by the confidence of success. Success paid for by the blood of Imperials but, even better, by the blood of the inferior.

Kaine was speaking, his gloved hands carefully clasped behind his uniform, his eyes raised slightly to scan each face as his pacing took him near.

“I want to talk to you about God.”

There was an uncomfortable shifting in the room for religion had no place in tactics involving the toppling of governments and in galactic conquest.

“There are a great many beings in this galaxy that believe in a higher power and give over devotion, loyalty and worship to such a power. It is an interesting phenomenon and one that does not solely base such actions on power for these very same beings would then be worshipping the Empire.”

He smiled grimly, “For, in the physical universe, does not the Empire stand alone as the greatest concentration of power this galaxy has ever seen?

No, these beings worship this higher power (or powers) because they attribute to it the reason for their existence. That their physical existence holds to some grand purpose in this universe and, more importantly, they hope to reap rewards in some sort of afterlife. It is a belief that fuels an unprecedented resistance to conquest, an unnatural disbelief in any opposing, reasonable, scientific thought, and a total unwillingness to accept their place and their role within the universe.

You see, gentlemen and ladies, it is not enough to simply crush an enemy’s army. It is not enough to smash their fleets or break down an enemy’s technological defenses. “

Kaine paused, and ever with a slight darker tone, “We must slay their Gods.”

A commotion of murmuring rose as those listening turned to one another and contemplated the words. One spoke out, “But, evolutionary imperatives negate the existence of gods… at least those considered divine. Now you are telling us to believe in a god?”

Kaine stopped to stare at the student who had spoken out and let out a sly grin, “But tell me, what is god?”

Into the silence, Kaine panned his audience. “Does anyone know the definition of god?”

He spoke into the air, “Computer, please render for us the definition of ‘god’.”

A mechanical voice reverberated throughout the chamber, “God – any of various beings conceived of as supernatural and immortal; an idol; a person or thing deified”

Simon held up his fingers, “The strategy to defeating the God of our enemies is held within that definition. One: any of various beings conceived of as supernatural and immortal, such as the Gods of the Azguard,” the audience shifted, “or, Two: an idol, such as those trinkets the Jedi or Sith attach so much reverence for, or Three: a person or thing deified, such as the sex toy manufacture magnate Heir Raktus.

We know that the Jedi and Sith, or any of these creatures who use this mysterious ability known as the Force, can be fooled. They are not omniscient nor are they all powerful. One Sith, our first Emperor Palpatine, and his apprentice of the moment plotted and executed a plan that wiped out the blundering alien Jedi Order before the inception of the Empire with ease.”

Simon raised his arms to his audience, “Endgame proved that one does not need this Force ability to lead these Jedi and Sith around by their noses like animals a leash. We kept our Sith preoccupied with their ancient hatred of these Jedi on Naboo while we invested our fleets to taking Coruscant back. The Jedi were so preoccupied with their ancient hatred of the Sith attacking that they ignored the larger picture and played no part in the New Republic’s defense. The creation of the Jedi Corps tells us that force users can be manipulated to our own ends without this annoying foundation of angst the old Jedi Order and Sith seem to resurrect each generation. Do remember, however, that while our strategies have proven successful, there are some of those that are still in awe of these people. It is an awe that we do not and will not share. Awe of the powers these individuals display only feeds doubt and hinders proactive action.”

Kaine’s voice became hard, “This awe is gradually dying. From the destruction of the New Republic to the Jedi Order’s exile on Naboo to the Jedi Corps and ISB’s watchful eye on our Sith, we are winning against these that the uneducated worship. These beings that worship themselves and revere the trinkets their ancestors make, these holocrons, amulets, rings, diadems and so forth. By destroying these items, we are working to wipe away the legacy of lies of those enslaved by this invisible Force.

As you can see, the idols, idolatry and idolizing of these fools …this particular inception of god, is being defeated!”

“Some would say,” a woman interrupted, “That these force users are a step up in our own evolution. How can we act to destroy these people if we are governed by an evolutionary imperative?”

Kaine looked at the woman with approval. “Some would say that being born with eleven fingers and toes is a step up in our evolution. We are not governed by popular opinion. For any genetic change, mutation, or newfound extra-sensory ability to be an evolutionary advancement one must ask themselves, ‘how does this further the advancement of my race?’ You see, we do not apply the survival of the fittest operandi to the individual but to the race at large. Tell me, how has our race benefited from beings being enslaved to midichlorians? An Imperial research team analyzed this very subject and concluded that midichlorians exhibit the same characteristics as some parasitic organisms. By, following the ‘will’ of these midichlorians, do we advance ourselves or have we surrendered to a ‘fitter’ organism than ourselves: these midichlorians? Time and again, we’ve seen these force users fail. No. Having a force ability is no evolutionary link for if we all exhibited it we would all be dead.”

A man spoke up. “But what about the Dragon Taj?”

Kaine looked at him and asked, “With the example given, how do you defeat a God?”

Another voice spoke out, “You define it.”

Simon pointed at him, “Exactly. Does calling a thing divine actually make it omniscient? Omnipresent? All knowing and all powerful?


NO!


The Taj of the Dragon Imperium, this Heir Raktus has made the greatest mistake a ‘God’ could ever make:

He has made himself tangible.

And any tangible object can be destroyed.

The Taj has wrapped this religion around his so-called divinity but divinity is hard to maintain when there is nothing left to the imagination. Awe fades. Failures may be attributed to the will of the Taj but that excuse only holds for so long. For is a God who fails divine? Can they be omniscient and omnipotent? The Daemun technology is impressive and as a leader in our mere physical realm, this Taj can be respected, admired and perhaps even envied. But a God?”

Kaine chuckled slightly. “Any mind can crack. Any will can be broken. And any technology defeated.


When the insignificant can attack your strongholds and show no fear, perhaps some may begin to question their all-powerful gods. If the Coalition lay waste to Dameo, perhaps this particular ‘god’will no longer plague the galaxy? If the Imperium wins, perhaps this particular god’s station will be secure for a little longer. But the awe is fading.”

Kaine paused.

“And in that vacuum fear forms.


When the ancient trinkets of gold and holocrons of the force users are broken and when we raze all the ancient burial sites of Sith or Jedi fools of the past leaving only dust, their power fill fade. When their usefulness is at an end, we must destroy them completely and end this mutation of man. With no one listening, the ‘Will of the Force’ will cease to exist.

When enemy fleets cross the Tion lines and Dameo is invested, when the Taj finally falls from power by whatever means his religion will die. And without their religious fanaticism to sustain them the Dragons will fall into disarray and death.”

Simon began to pace once more.

“I give you these examples to illustrate that the defeat of a God or what people worship as divine, while no small matter, is not an insurmountable problem. Given good intelligence, proper planning, flawless execution and a little patience anything can be accomplished.

For the past few years, Imperial Intelligence has been working on a particular problem that has plagued the Empire behind the scenes. You see, ever since the rise of the Empire, a group of creatures have been at war with us and it is heartening to know, that even while the Empire remained ignorant of this ‘war’ and the plotting of these creatures, the Empire has remained ever resilient, ever strong, ever powerful.

And now that we do recognize the insidious plotting of these creatures, and now that we can bring our full attention to bear on their meddling I am confident that we can… we will prove victorious.

It is known that these creatures call themselves Gods but, after today, they will no longer be considered supernatural. They are as flawed and given to failure as much as the fools who give over their free will to worship them.

And when defeated, the very fiber of existence for the race that is enslaved to them will crumble. And, just as with the Dragons, without the Azguard glue holding it together, the Coalition will crumble.

In any event, by destroying that which is worshipped by the ignorant masses we make ourselves, we make the Empire divine. And with each success, we make their transference of ‘faith’ that much easier.

All the while making man’s ascension over the galaxy more complete.”


Kaine stepped in the middle of the audience chamber and looked up.


“So, today’s strategy session…the answer to the impossible:


How do you defeat an Azguard god?”

Failing Divinity

Venerator-Class Destroyer Azeroth



Grand Moff Zell looked at the bundle of blankets wrapped inside the incubator in the Medical Wing of the warship rather coldly. The mother, an Ensign working in the Munitions Department, was sobbing uncontrollably as nurses and others tried vainly to comfort her.

The ship's doctor was noting the time of death of the infant on a datarecorder when the aging Moff had entered.

Apparently the mother had hidden the pregnancy from her commanding officers and medical personnel. A breach of starship regulations which prohibited the conceiving of a child while on active combat duty. It was not a hard regulation to adhere too as most faction military counterparts had similar rules. The Ensign, however, had gotten intentionally pregnant according to the "calling" of her religion. It was against Imperial Law to form or belong to a religion outside of the Citadel, the official religion of the Empire whose beliefs were securely within the bounds of acceptability of the Emperor and his growing bureaucratic government. New ideas and beliefs were always being added to the Citadel's collection of dogma. The Empire held no particular respect of one particular religious teaching over another as it blended and merged all ideas, beliefs and teachings into one unified belief.

Most gladly accepted the new amalgam as the new speakers from the pulpit (hand picked orators for INS) tickled their ears about goodness being rewarded and evil being sent to some hellish place and what was one more holiday to celebrate (even if originally from some other religion they knew nothing about to begin with)? And they remained exemplary citizens of the Empire, even gaining from their Citadel association by being treated with preference in certain areas.

Still, when the Citadel discovered a new religion or cult, their intrepid groups of investigators pulled part the newly found beliefs and those that were found acceptable were incorporated into the Citadel and a new sermon given immediately shedding light on a "new understanding" that was just uncovered from the scriptures. For the most part, because of the inclusion, members of the discovered (unlawful) religion readily joined the Citadel problem free.

It was when members remained dogmatically separate from the Citadel for their beliefs that issues arose. Issues that had to be handled quickly and permanently.

The Ensign belonged to The Holy Order of Light. A fringe group of questionable numbers who felt it their scriptural duty to carry out God's command to be fruitful and fill the galaxy.

A noble quest. The conceiving of children was not a sin in the Citadel's eyes for the creation of more Imperials was a good thing. A blessed thing, in fact. But for the members of the Holy Order of Light, they felt there should be no restrictions at all on God's words and that such conceptions should be whenever the parents decided it was time (or their minister). What the Empire viewed as a prudent measure, the Holy Order of Light viewed as subverting the will of God.

If only God could have added the stipulation to avoid conception while on active duty, there would not be a problem. More evidence of God's shortsided view on things in Zell's mind.

And so here he was, presented with the fact of a birth against regulations by a member of an outlawed religion aboard a military ship. He was disapointed that the woman's records showed she'd not had a physical in quite a few months and had forged her last by slicing into her medical records. An illegal action again but why split hairs when you were already over the line?

The doctor merely shrugged and blamed his predecessor for incomplete follow-ups before being assigned to another ship. Zell chose to ignore his grumpy comment about there being thousands of people aboard the bloody ship for wasn't that why the ship had an entire deck dedicated to the medical health of the ship in and out of combat?

Still, he couldn't find it in himself to be too angry at the doctor for he was a dedictated and loyal servant of the Empire. It was the religious fanatics who were the real culprits and the architects of this particular predicament.
Zell had the Captain of the Azeroth place a holonet inquiry to the Citadel regarding any information on this cult and what they got back told Zell that the other people in the Medical Office who were present as "friends of the pregnant woman" were, in reality, other members of this cult as there had to be members present for the birth to witness the joy of God's will taking shape.

An internal (and quiet) investigation put these people in the woman's quarters where she tried to deliver the child on her own so no one would be the wiser. On a ship of thousands, they may have been successful in smuggling the child off the ship at their next port of call but a complication in the delivery compelled them to seek professional medical help.

And then the game was up.


One look at the mess of the woman crying, her 'friends' glancing about warily half in empathy and half scared and the nurses trying to render comfort gave Zell a headache. Again he cursed that the doctor hadn't caught the pregnancy in it's early stages so he could have administered an abortive measure thus saving them all the paperwork treason generally created.

The woman had stupidly remained working in her department during her pregnancy because it was work outside the general oversight of command and away from the more crowded areas of the ship. But while the position helped keep the woman's condition secret longer than expected, it was also a very dangerous position to expose an unborn fetus too. Munitions and whatever horrendous weapons of destruction housed in the bowels of the ship with the sole purpose of rendering resistance to the Empire moot generally required very careful monitoring and handling.

As it happened, it was a faulty radiation shield on several plasma torpedoes that she had detected on an inspection and corrected. But, unfortunately, not before exposing herself to the slight radiation that would later complicate the birth.

Zell stared at the disfigured creature in the incubator again and thanked his luck for the radiation leak. Not only did it expose the treason, it also took care of the little deformed nip who would have very likely grown up hating the Empire for the fucked up way it looked.

And not it's fucking parents for not getting their regular medical checkup (and invariably the hidden contraceptive ship's doctors administered with a vitamin supplement).

Turning his eyes toward the crying woman noting that one problem had already taken care of itself they narrowed in silent derision.

One friend and member of the cult stepped up placing her hands on the grieving mother and spoke softly. "He's in a better place now."


Zell's derision grew to the point of cruelty. "And where is that?" he barked out half in demand, half in jest.

"Heaven," a man answered for the woman in anger.

Zell's bark turned into a laugh. "And what is a baby going to do in heaven?" He turned to the doctor, "That's what annoys me about the stupid beliefs of these cults. They do not make practical sense. What the hell is a baby angel going to do?"

The doctor shrugged, clearly not caring whether god made baby angels or jawa angels for that matter. "Probably shoot people with arrows and make them fall in love."

"Oh sure," Zell purred, "to make the fools disregard Imperial Regulations again to make more monsters!"

The mother wailed as Zell pointed to the incubator.

"God loves all of his children. Even you, Grand Moff.." the woman comforting the grieving mother commented.

"If God loves all of us, Ensign," Zell grated out as if speaking to a child, "then who goes to hell?"

"Every mother believes their kid goes to heaven even if they are a mass murderer. With everyone going to heaven, you'd think the religious fools of the Coalition would be more respectful of the Empire and I. You'd think that God would put me on his 'Most Favorite Mortal List'."

"Why?" the cult member asked in anger.

Zell's lips curled into a sneer, "Because I must have increased the population of heaven a hundredfold by now!"

And with a gesture, Stormtroopers moved over to drag the cult members and the mother out of the Medical Wing and towards the nearest airlock.

Several cried out in anger at the injustice being shown by their fellowman. Others were silent in their hatred and merely walked to their doom bravely.

Zell stared at the group through the airlock viewport and as the mechanism began to work to open into the vacuum of space, the mother turned to Zell and whispered to him, "May God forgive you."

Zell's eyes narrowed as he heard the comment through the speakers and he spoke to the active comlink. "Perhaps he will given I provide him with more tenants for Heaven. However you, my dear," Zell grinned, "have killed your child. You will burn in a hell of your own making."

The words cut into the woman and she opened her mouth to scream at him just as the doors parted. Her last vision was being pulled rapidly away from the triumphant face of Azrael Zell.

Zell turned to the doctor who had accompanied him and chuckled. "I love fucking with religionists. They are so gullible"

He walked to the nearest comm panel, "Bridge. Have the following names logged as lost on a Sollinium hunting expedition..." and he listed the names of the traitors and thought about the replacements to be requested from Coruscant and a note to the High Command on greater efficiency in shipwide medical health maintenance measures.

As he began to walk away, the doctor asked in a curious tone, "You know Grand Moff, what if there is a God?"

Zell stopped and turned thinking on the question. "If there is a God, he has yet to stop me. So either he's alot weaker than we think or he's waiting for something. And if he's waiting and hasn't, in all these millenia, interfered then the real question is: Who cares if there's a God? If there is one, he's not around to make a difference anyway."

The doctor smiled grimly, "And if you're sent to hell after death?"

Zell walked up to the doctor and his eyes narrowed, his own feral grin widening, "Why then my good doctor, I know I can survive even death and with an immortal soul, not even God can touch me. And I'll deal with the devil when I see him."

"And if you are the devil?"

Zell laughed, "Then I'll convince some more angels to come down and screw and God's world will just keep getting smaller."

▲

Failing Divinity

Third Fleet
Improcco – Fortress world of Simon Kaine
Advanced Tactical Planning – Metaphysics



The chamber was silent as the listeners all unconsciously leaned in to hear the answer.


"Computer, activate holorecording 101.20." Kaine called out into the air and the rooms lights darkened slightly as an image suddenly appeared in the air above him.

The image as of a diminuitive alien who everyone could easily identify as an Azguard and a woman seated in front of him. Other than being human and the imperial insignia on her suit, they knew nothing of the woman.

"Play." came Simon's command and the alien became animated, speaking in it's harsh, raspy tone; the computer having to insert Basic into the tongue of a creature not used to human speech.

"Oh yes, they are quite real. I have quite clearly seen them, as have many of my kind. They're no hoax, no machine, no hologram. Infact" He said lightly "It took us years to begin to understand how so many races' religions depended on creatures whos existances were near-impossible to prove!"


"Stop." Kaine's voice was firm and he walked around the frozen image looking out at his audience. "The Azguard gods are, above all, gods that can be seen. There is no mysticism nor super natural aura about these creatures who have set themselves up to lesser beings, in this case, the Azguard. The prisoner makes light of the fact that the existence of many religions' gods is difficult to prove. But the prisoner disregards one common axiom of war: If it can be seen, it can be defeated!"

Kaine looked back to the frozen image. "What we will learn about the nature of this particular enemy is from their worshippers own lips. Take heed. Even seeming innocuous information from your enemy can yield strategies and hold the key to ultimate victory. Computer, advance holorecording 101.20 plus fifteen minutes."


"We don't really worship them, in the usual sense of the word, so much as listen to their wisdom. When highly intelligent creatures who are millions of years old speak, one can usually rely on their experience. They are more like, hm, cultural leaders, and beings of great reverence and power. People follow the teachings and opinions of certain gods in much the same way as humans follow different politicians."

"I Myself am a follower of the Fire God. He is like a great wildcat, with seething flames for fur and claws of solid obsidian. He speaks of bravery and action, and of striking out to defend good. He was, as a matter of fact, a great supporter of both joining the Coalition and the war against the Empire. He does not sit well with the idea of Empires, and has spent ages watching you from his millenia long rest." He actually laughed at this. Not a long laugh or crude guffaw, but a pleasent, short, sort of laugh. "Well, not you in particulair, but indeed the Empire."


"Stop. Apparently, for spending a millenia watching humans their ire is more against humanity in general than the Empire as we've only been around about forty years. But that is neither here nor there. We know these gods can be seen and now we know what one looks like. Already, Imperial Intelligence is altering scanning equipment and detectors to pick up the characteristics listed by the prisoner, namely," Kaine grinned, "flaming fur and obsidian. And if we can mark the characteristics of one, we can find those of others. Advance same file five minutes."


"But don't take us for a bunch of zealots..."

"Stop. Advance ten minutes and augment visual on alien subject."

The hologram suddenly enlarged to show the creature's physical state as it spoke.

"Our gods do make mistakes, yes, and sometimes they even have to retrace their steps and change their opinions to fit changes in the galaxy around us, but we trust them more then any politician. Even High Lord Regrad himself knows that his words are nothing compared to the merest utterance from the gods. Their powers are great and far-reaching, they can see the future, the past, and the present with startling acuracy. They are gods, and we trust them as such."


"Stop." Kaine began to pace once more. "A god that can be seen. A god whose visual description we have. And now we know something more. They are fallable. They make mistakes! They can be made to retrace their steps and change their opinions, most notably because THEY ARE NOT ALWAYS RIGHT!"

The Supreme Commander's shout echoed throughout the chamber and several in the audience began to whisper excitedly to themselves.

"Anyone can see the past with 20/20 hindsight and think themselves brilliant. And, if you have a good enough intelligence network, you can get a good idea about the present. I can see the future too and it is absent of 'gods'.

Are not the powers of the Jedi and Sith great and far-reaching?" Simon's voice carried over the whispering to drive his words home. "NEVER become intimidated by these creatures. Has not the Empire smashed the Jedi Order into a shadow of it's former self? Does it not quell with fear on Naboo? And have we not tamed our Sith and leashed them to our will through the Corps?
Do we not control the Jedi Corps?" he whispered.

"Is this resume really pertinent to our plans against these Azguard gods? One may very well ask. Notice what our prisoner has to say on the subject...Play.."

And the images began to move.


"The Battle Of Jarl's Rock was the one time the Azguard people ever fought, and it was tens of thousands of millenia ago. There was once twenty Four tribes of Azguardians. Each had one mighty Force-being that was their god. As these great beings mastered their powers they saw into the future, and the dark blot that was this galactic and unending civil war almost blinded them.

"They discussed for years what should be done, until one day the Council of Gods was split. Half of the Gods said the Azguards must train for the day where they too will fight in this Apocalypse, and the other half said we should train, but join with the darkness, and be assured our victory.


"Stop. And now we come to the true nature of the creatures our little 'friends' the Azguards worship. Mighty Force-Beings! THAT is what the Azguards worship!"

The whispering in the audience grew in fervor as Kaine began to pace with his gloved hands clasped behind his back.

"What is it about force users that make them think they are special and need to be worshipped. The Jedi demand to be heard by governments... the Sith desire to run governments and have followings... And these 'gods' desire those beneath them to worship them.

We know that these gods can be seen. We know they can be identified and we know they are flawed like everyone else. We know their only claim to fame and only claim to power is their force use. And so we now know that we have experience... great experience in dealing with their kind.

As much power as a Jedi Master has, they can be shot in the back like any common criminal. We must remove the intimidation factor their aura of power sends out. For once removed, we realize a simple truth that our little friend tells us next. Computer, continue play and augmentation."

"That was the war. The two factions battled for decades, and at the end half the gods lay dead, six on each side remained. Those who said we must side with good triumphed and drove our banished bretheren from the world forever. The Darkness and death of this time was so great that even before it could happen people fought to decide how it should be fought."

He regained his composure, albeit at great lengths of effort.


"And that truth is final. Their gods can be killed. Their gods can die. Their gods are as mortal as any one of us! And we also know their numbers are severely depleted. Twelve Force Users on their planet acting like gods.

As you can see, the creature's emotion is evident as it spoke with a reverence some would label as fanatical loyalty when speaking of the death of his gods.

It's no wonder the Azguards go to war everytime one of these force users 'divines' some label of good and evil.

Computer, advance to the last clip."


"Just to sum up my opinions of hope, along with that of the Azguardians, it is a convenience we cannot afford. We knew from that dark day when the War of the Gods began that there was but a sliver of a chance that we would win. All our hope is tied up in believing in that chance, and little can be spent hoping for ourselves. How much is one life worth to a human? Is it priceless? Despite what you say, the truth is no. Humans eventually draw the line they never discuss on how much a life is worth.

"What is it worth to an Azguard? Just as much as it can give to the greater good of the race. I would see myself and ten Kin die without a second thought to save my general, if I thought by saving him he would be able to go on and do more towards victory then we who died."

He almost stopped there, but then remembered one last thing. "Oh yes, and we have much to owe to the Mon Calamarians. There was a second time when Azguards fought one another, although I dare not speak of it. It was thanks to the Mon Calamarians that we did not destroy ourselves. It is not easy for a race to enter the galaxy by itself, and they showed us the way. Our philosiphers and Gods have brooded over what they have said and what we have seen, and they have deemed it good.

"And to be quite frank, to I and the people of Azguard, that is enough."


"End play." Simon Kaine stopped and as the hologram visual disappeared, he inspected the audience with a look of satisfaction.

"At the end, the prisoner opens up several strategic opportunities to take the war to the gods themselves. With the information gleened, I ask you here and now to inform me. Give me those strategies and let me see if you have earned the right to be a part of Advanced Tactical Planning."


He crossed his arms and waited for his audience to speak.

... the lizard-like alien approaches menacingly, it's claws and fangs outstretched towards two small human children. It does not speak nor does it gesture with any measure of intelligence. In fact, it does nothing except snarl and threaten the children...their screams falling (seemingly) on deaf ears.

All of a sudden (when all hope has fled) a blaster sound is heard and the creature's expression changes from one of angst to one of surprise. For a hole has been punched through it's chest and the creature gives out an impotent squeek before falling on it's side, dead.

"Captain Remy!" the children shout, the menace of the creature instantly forgotten and a familiar colored stormtrooper rests his blaster over his shoulder as he walks over.

"Hello Children!" the stormtrooper hails from behind his visor. "You seem to have gotten yourself into some alien trouble on the way home from class."

One of the young ones speaks up, "But Captain Remy, we were exploring.."

"Ahh... exploring. I am a bit of an adventurer myself having seen multitudes of worlds." The stormtrooper's voice becomes chiding, "But you must heed the dangers. Who knows where bad aliens may be lurking?" the trooper kicks the body of the dead alien. "You could have been this bugger's meal!"

"Captain Remy, are all aliens bad?" asks the other boy.

The stormtrooper looks up from nudging the carcass. "Emperor no, children! The Empire is made up of many races. The Empire's aliens are good aliens. They follow and obey the Law like all good citizens of the Empire."

The stormtrooper kneels, "But remember kids, they need your help and protection from the bad aliens outside the Empire. They are mad that some of their own live in the comfort of the Empire and so try to hurt them with diseases. Be sure to tell your alien friends to see an EMT because..."

Everyone looks toward the viewscreen and chimes:




The screen darkens.


"Now THAT is fucking hilarious..." Grand Moff (retired) Azrael Zell remarked out loud. "That alien's fucking inards should have been sprayed all over those little buttheads."

"Technical errors aside, the Census Bureau puts the ad as tracking well across all target demographics." Admiral Ckeller said, looking over her notes. "EMT traffic and processing is at an all time high.."

"Bah.." Zell interrupted scornfully, "that's just the ripple effects from his fucking highness Regrad's war speech and attack on the Dragons! Scared everyone shitless and couple that with the Panacea threats.."

"Do not discount the media, Zell. The people see the media, hear the media, live the media more than they do the occassional transmission from Coalition space."

"Fucking aliens. I swear. What the fuck good is retirement if I have to deal with their constant shit? Sometimes I think Lupercus is right!" he made his finger into the shape of a gun, "Just shoot the little fuckers and be done with them."

"Lupercus has his own problems.." Ckeller drawled.

"You're referring to those 'Sons of Corellia'? Those little shits don't know their ass from their peckers. Kyle Iblis my ass. Ungrateful little nip! If it weren't for us his family would not have enjoyed their little aura of fame in relative peace! Fucking rich kids, I swear. Reminds me of that fucking Brutus Nogoth. Grew up on too much money and not enough hand-to-their-backsides to teach them to respect their betters!"

"I hear he calls himself a 'General'," Ortho Gutt said referring to Kyle Iblis, typically quiet as he was a newcomer to this level.

"Of What?!" Zell shouted. "Who fucking gave him the rank? What legitimate government?" Zell sneered giving an evil grin, "The nip is too young to have been commissioned by the New Republic unless they were handing out their commissions to children at the end..."

"They were desperate. Desaria's blockade.."

"Yes..yes.." Zell waved that away. "The point is, it doesn't matter what the little fucker calls himself be it general, admiral or his fucking majesty the Emperor. He's alienated from his family and I say we sick CorSec on him. Hell, CorSec would piss themselves in glee with the responsibility to prove themselves to us."

"That's Governor Darksword's call."

"What's the point of being right if you can't do anything about it?!" Zell lamented leaning back in his leathery chair.


"The Census Bureau needs to tighten it's strictures," commented Simon Kaine ignoring the conversation going on as he studied several reports. He looked up, "We are not eliminating all aliens. Just problem races."

"What difference does it make?" Zell retorted grandly.

Kaine looked up and across the table at the older man. "Do you want to work in the heatsinks?"

Zell grumbled under his breath but Kaine's point had been made.

"Aliens do serve useful functions," the Supreme Commander pointed out.

"And what about those that say aliens get menial, even low paying jobs?" Ckeller asked.

Simon Kaine drummed his fingers on the conference table. "Claims like that are baseless. Economics strikes across all races. Besides," his lips quirked into a smile, "an alien's living needs are less than those of humans."

Jenice Arliss laughed at that thought. "Try to make that one stick, Supreme Commander."

Kaine's own smile turned sly, "Jenice, we do not try to change the alien cultures within the Empire. Not like the Coalition does. Our aliens are simple, their cultures are simple. They are not given to greed and the amassing of wealth."

Zell's ears picked up, knowing where Kaine was going, "Motherfucker.." he whispered.

"The Coalition is already trying to 'civilize' their aliens toward human standards. The Old Republic did it, the New Republic did it and the democratic Coalition is no different. I mean, look at all the funny animals wearing clothes. Only the stalwart Wookiee race has opposed the move but for how long? They have lizard races sporting silk clothes, forced to sit in human chairs and basically adjust their lifestyle to meet human standards. We all know that humans are the minority in the Coalition but they spend billions of credits refitting and reforming their cities and starships to accomodate races forced by law to coexist together."

"A typical Coalition vessel will have no less than five different races serving aboard. Infinite fucking diversity..." Zell snapped.

"How do you know that?" Ortho Gutt asked clearly curious.

His question did not impress the old man. "Because we fished enough of their fucking bodies out of Corellian space after kicking their asses back to where they came from." Zell's eyes narrowed. "What I want to know is where your fat ass was during the war?"

Captain Gutt turned all shades of red and tried to rally. "As I heard it, a cease-fire was negotiated before they brought their Second Fleet to bear!"

Zell's narrowed eyes went hard. "What are you? A Coalition sympathizer?"

Gutt went white with fear at the implication. "N.. No! Certainly not!

Ckeller chuckled. "Leave the boy alone, Zell."

"I've got shit older than him and he presumes to tell me the nature of the bloody enemy I've fought when he was probably running for the Bounty Hunter's Guild as a conscientious objector..." Zell purred.

"I was in deep space!!" Gutt shouted trying to stand.

Zell watched with contempt as the rotund man struggled to rise from the comfortable chair. "Probably was out hunting fucking Vors with that fucker Captain Yatta. Weren't you, fatty?"

"I'LL KILL YOU!!" Captain Gutt shouted finally standing up.

Azrael Zell smiled a feral smile at the outburst. "About fucking time your timid fangs showed themselves."

Ortho looked around in confusion sensing that he was being ignored despite his shout and used that time to gather what dignity he had left and sit down.

"Where was I?" Kaine quietly asked into the silence unmoved.

Ortho's mind was blank.

"The diversity of the infinite morons within the Coalition.." Zell shot out.

"Ahh.. yes." Kaine resumed, "And it's that diversity that will kill them. Every race worships differently, thinks differently, breathes..."

"...fucks and shits differently," Zell finished. "With five races," he looked pointedly at Ortho Gutt, "Five separate restroom facilities on each deck, spaced so many meters apart.. with separate plumbing systems to handle their different types of shit."

"All these are costs incurred by the Coalition, so to compete they must be as efficient as possible which means: Standardization."

"Fucking lizards have to hold their tails up to take a shit in a human toilet."

"Or shit in a corner.." Captain Gutt brought out, feeling braver after his outburst.

Zell curled his nose in derision. "Don't get me started on that ISD Imperial Intelligence captured from those nerfherders of the Diversity Alliance. Fucking Bothans! Surprised they had the balls to attack Sullust! They packed that ship up with every backward fucking alien they could cram into there. Hundreds of fucking aliens on a ship built for humans. The stench was unbearable. I don't know how the fucking agent did it! I would have died having to smell ..."

"Infinite diversity means infinite financial drain." Kaine said sagely, interupting Zell's rant.

"How costly it must be to even maintain a comfortable temperature for the different races on a single cruiser?" Ckeller's eyes widened at the thought. "Different skins, different body temperatures, different life support requirements."

"Evolution itself will defeat the Coalition ideology eventually. Sometimes it's easy to lose sight of the fact at how much Regrad has spent in support of this flawed aim."

Jenice tapped a pen on the table drawing looks her way. "So how does the Empire do it differently?" She smiled. "Do we not force aliens to live according to our rules?"

Ortho raised an eyebrow at the question, clearly at a loss for words. Admiral Ckeller had the gentle laugh of a grandmother and clapped her hands. Zell's eyes merely went to the young woman's chest and forgot her question.

"A valid question and since we aren't mincing words, a true statement on the surface. No doubt, the Coalition, who only views things from the surface will see and probably point this out. But here is where we are different: The Empire does not force it's aliens to accept human positions or human duties. Every race within the Empire, at least those alien races who are not 'problem races', has their particular gift and the Empire seeks to use these races to their fullest in ways that maximize their gifts. Everyone has their appropriate place."

"For instance?" Jenice asked.

"For instance, in the Coalition, every race has the opportunity to be whatever they desire to be no matter how stupid many of their endeavors might be and, in turn, the Coalition pays for those decisions. An Azguard, for example, may decide to be a dentist and want to work on human teeth. Obviously with their..." Kaine flexed his fingers, "claws, such employment is dubious but because they are given that choice by law, the Coalition will spend hundreds of thousands of credits on research and developement to give this Azguard the impliments to be a dentist and cut the gums of his fellow citizens. In the Empire, however, an Azguard would not have this opportunity. But, because of this lizard-creature's toughened and hardened skin, because of their physical make-up they would do wonders in the heatsinks. And in their proper element, doing what they do best, they would not only succeed but succeed beyond their means. Working the heatsinks is too much for many humans which is why those that do work them aren't very successful. The law frowns on it but there are stubborn people. Perhaps there is a lizard dentist somewhere out there on Coruscant, but all in all, the function or employment suits the physical make up of the one applying. The Labor Assist Program was designed around this concept and has been working wonders."

"The Coalition gives out the option for everyone to join their military and so the little fuckers run to them like kits to the slaughter trying to be 'more than they can be'," Zell remarked. "Alien roles within the Imperial Military are carefully screened and there are some areas where an alien performs better than a human and so they excel. Grand Admiral Desaria's Guard is a perfect example of this."


"Not a very romantic notion at all.." Jenice said dryly.

Zell suddenly, remarkably grew serious, "War, my lady, is brutal. Extremely brutal and it's to those who can give themselves over to such brutality who will eventually win."

Jenice was not one to be outdone yet though, "Not very enlightened either."

"So the Coaltion would say as well. But give me a list of all the governments who have been called 'enlightened'? Where are they? Every fucking nation lists the Old Republic as the enlightened of the enlightened. And what did this fucking enlightened government become?

The Empire!

What does that tell you?"


"Every civilization, no matter how enlightened they think they are, needs to be tempered with steel." Admiral Ckeller remarked. "For it is the steel that drives their civilization against those that would tear it down from without and within. It is the steel that drives them onward, ever onto that path of evolutionary advancement."

"It is said," Kaine interupted,"that the more advanced a civilization is, the easier it is for all traces of it to be erased when it falls. We need our primordial souls, even as we advance. We have to fuel that side that seems primitive lest we become like all those civilizations before who thought themselves so wise that nothing is left of them. Their hopes, their dreams, their very lives are forgotten sands upon empty worlds.

Should the Empire eventuall fall, what a fall it will be! Our grandeur, our achievements, our very actions will be told for eons to come! It will be an Empire never forgotten setting a standard even future factions will measure themselves against!"

"So we are the master race?" Jenice asked a bit mischieviously.

"Was there any doubt?" Zell shot back.

The room erupted in chuckling until Captain Gutt broke the relaxed reverie.

"So you think the Coalition will eventually die?"

"Eventually. Whether their government breaks apart due to economic mismanagement or simply from another defeat or stretching their war budget too far, their society will not hold. It's population will lash out in unrest and the Coalition leaders will be forced to inact Martial Law suspending their precious Articles of Confederation. The moment that happens, they will become ours. I imagine assimilation into the Greater Empire will happen rather rapidly."

That Ortho did not understand was plainly written on his face for he frowned and stabbed his large finger against a computer pad. "The reports regarding these Kashan.."

Zell chuckled at that. "Tough nuts they are."

"Reports suggest that they are tending to gravitate towards automation. Artificial Intelligence controls. That will eventually isolate their society into ossficiation." Kaine remarked. "Remember The New Alliance?"

Captain Gutt shook his head and Zell cursed under his breath. "Fucking kids nowadays!"

"The New Alliance was the government where Joren Logan held his first allegiance and was centered around Almania."

"Almania?" Jenice looked up. "Lupercus Darksword attacked.."

"Mere remnants of a once great faction that battled countless times with the Jutraalian Empire and Chaddwick Fearsons."

"Now there's a name I've not heard in a while!" Zell exclaimed, Ckeller shaking her head in agreement.

"In any event, the point is the New Alliance had a thing for automation and AI. Evenutally, their society grew to encompass droid police forces and civil authority."

"They handed civil authority to droids?!" Jenice exclaimed, clearly surprised.

"It starts with the idea that droids will make life easier. Then it's not about making life easier, it's about working your harvest faster, building ships faster and your society begins to be patterned after a droid's output production and soon, efficiency becomes the definition of your life. People forget that they are not droids and eventually wake up to realize they handed the better part of their culture over to robots. This forments resentment at the very things that they once thought a protection. The New Alliance split and cracked. Their economy collapsed because they failed to realize that droids worked for free."

Zell barked out a laugh, "Unless they stumble onto an Ewok tribe somewhere, droids always live in poverty and are blind too it."

"Without the money flow, the wealth of the civilization began to rest with those who owned the droids and with the droids working for free, who wants to pay people to work?

The middleclass was wiped out almost overnight. To compensate the population took advantage of government vouchers and the people were funnelled into the military. With the vouchers, people could not be turned away so military standards sank...but their numbers were augmented to the point that it could be ignored." Kaine sighed.

"The fuckers were used up. The New Alliance threw their people into war and they were used up. With droids back home doing all the work, no one wanted to make babies for fear of poverty.. One fucking generation and their best and brightest were gone. The wealthy left the dying world and eventually the grand robot cities fell to rust and disrepair. Where is the fucking New Alliance now?"

"So why are the Kashan.. why would anyone.." Jenice started.

"BECAUSE WOMAN! IT TAKES WORK TO BUILD AN EMPIRE!" Zell slammed his palm onto the table. He looked up an whispered harshly, "And who the fuck wants to work nowadays? They play the numbers game and try to offset their difficiencies in numbers, in just about everything, with droids. Like robots are the fucking miracle of the gods or something!" Zell sighed, "It takes work and they are impatient."

"They are human," Ckeller admitted and Zell chuckled. "One more thing for those Azguard beasties to worry about then."

"It could have happened to us." Kaine mused. "When we were pushed to Bastion and the New Republic couldn't even hold Coruscant against the rising of various Sith Empires.."

"Fucking Sith.." Zell coughed out.

"We could have turned to automation as the miracle elixir of our woes." Kaine said pointedly.

"Fuck no! We gritted our teeth, grabbed a Private, stuck a gun in his hand and tossed them into the grinder. We fucking worked for our supper and if it pisses off all the others that we sit at the head of the dinner table, well fuck them!"

Kaine's gloved hand went to his mouth as he stifled a yawn. "Anyway, about these numbers..." he brought up the Census Bureau's Report, "we need to have a Criteria Meeting tomorrow."

Ortho wiggled in his seat and Kaine relented. "And advise Lupercus to have the Iblis family watched. Make them high profile or something... Get INS on it. With them in the spotlight, the Iblis son would be an idiot to approach them for aid. Also, give a commendation to INS for the ad. Keep them coming."

Kaine looked around the table. "Anything else?"

Azrael Zell whispered, "Dark Empire."

Kaine shook his head. "Not now. Everyone, until next time. Good hunting."

Phase II
Xenomicrobiological Laboratory
Unknown Location



Grand Moff Zell, retired, boots clicked in military fashion as he moved down the vacant hall of the secret research facility. Being a microbiological facility, he knew that the main work the lab did was on things too small to be seen. With it being a Xeno Lab, he knew that most of the work's focus was on things 'alien' in nature.

Which, of course, meant inferior in nature.

"Dominic, I came as soon as I could.." he started, his raspy voice carried like an echo through the hall.

The aging woman approaching him greeted the old man warmly taking an elbow and wrapping her arms around it.

"Zell, you look simply marvelous."

The old Moff took her compliment in stride as if he'd heard it all before. "Now what's so fucking important that I needed to cancel a date with a pretty Lieutenant?"

"What, is she the love of your life?" the old woman croaked, trying to hold back a scoffing sort of laughter.

"Fuck no, Dominic. She's a woman more ambitious than her husband and she wants her weakling man to be made a Commander. That's something I can make happen but what the fuck do I know of him or her? I don't know them from Regrad's senile old mother."

"So you bed her?" Dominic asked guiding Zell into a room decorated with cloning cylinders to the left and right of the main walk.

"If you want to know someone fast..." Zell commented, his voice trailing off as he noticed what was floating in each cylinder.

"You making monsters, Dominic?"

"Oh, go blow your head off with a blaster, Zell! These are the latest trials and you know it."

Zell walked up to one glass cylinder looking intently at the little azguard beastie inside. Beast because while the creature shared some azguard features, it was so deformed that it took on different proportions, most unrecognizable.

"You're telling me that all these little fuck-heads are the clones of the genetic material we took off them?"

"Straight from the devils themselves, Zell."

Zell seemed to stare behind the cylinder at the connected appartus as if trying to discern visually whether it was up to reported technical specifications or not. "Is your equipment working?"

He banged a hand on the apparatus for emphasis.

"The equipment is fine, Zell." Dominic drawled dryly.

Zell scowled at her. "Then pardon me, Dominic, but.. what the fuck?"

"Zell, we've been trying to answer that for months. And I believe we have found out the answer to a lot of questions regarding our old enemy. Why they are hell bent on worshipping a lifeform as mortal as they are. Why they are so single-minded in their hatred of us and why they cannot accept any vision, any concent, any perception other than their own. And why they may feel so threatened by the Black Dragon Empire."

"You mean other than being little peckerwoods?"

Dominic continued as if not hearing him, "It was so simple but not easily seen because we operate on our own prejudices and preconceptions."

"Dominic..?"

"Let me demonstrate.." she said interrupting him. "C-4T9, come here."

Zell moved out of a protocol droid's way as it ambled up to Dominic. "Yes, Ma'am."

"C-4, who are the most vile villians in this galaxy?"

"The Coalition, Ma'am in general and the Azguards specifically."

"Very good, C-4. Now tell me, who is your creator? Who is your god?"

Zell's eyebrows rose.

"You are, ma'am." the droid responded without inflection.

"Thank you, C-4. You may go."


And as the droid retreated, Zell eyed it's back with a mixture of curiosity and incredulity.

Turning back to Dominic, he whispered hoarsely, "Fuck me! How in the hell did we miss that!?"

^

Fate of Races

Grand Moff Azrael Zell, retired, formerly Fleet Commander Zell walked through two Spartans flanking a door holding the prisoner.

Typically a man of Zell's stature would not bother taking the time with a simple prisoner but there was some confusion regarding the importance and, more importantly, classification of the creature being held.

Being the only person with New Order clearance, the Census Bureau flagged the query to his on-planet residence and he found himself travelling to one of many secret facilities used to process those disloyal and generally disruptive to the Empire.

He had spent that time reflecting on the stupidity of the Empire's enemies. The Coalition hailed itself as the successor to the New Republic but the New Republic would never have courted war so openly as those fools in the Coalition do. The fact that the Jedi Order had not backed up their own principles and arrested the Coalition's leadership indicated to Zell the depth
of hypocrisy.


If people wanted to be so fucking self righteous, then they should follow their own bullshit! INS is going to rip these fuckers to shreds..


Even that gave the old man no more excitement. INS running over Coalition bullshit was commonplace and the people were suitably desensitized to the shouts at the sky by the Coalition leadership that the population worried more about the color of their refreshers than an alien screaming foul over the holonet calling for a crusade to kill oppressors on some far off world no one really gave a damn about to begin with.


Groder Stu's commentary on the Coalition/Dragon war had been a brilliant coup and in the end, showed the Azguards for the insane, war-mongering reptiles they were. The fact that Grevious was originally a Kaleesh only showed the war between the two was not over ideological differences but over physiological differences. Two reptile species fighting over territoriality.

With the war, the Census Bureau began to flag reptilian species all across the Empire increasing their threat risk.

Who knew?

Perhaps there was some cosmic reptilian mating ritual going on with Azguard, Kaleesh, and other reptiles galaxy-wide?

That's all they needed. Some civilian waiting for an air-taxi when some mating instinct hits a reptilian next to them.


We should sterilize the lot of them! Save us loads of fucking trouble in the future...


Zell was in a bad mood as he arrived at the facility and by the time he passed the Spartans in the containment room, his bad mood had turned foul.


"What the fuck was so important that I had to come to this forsaken piss of space?" He was in a foul mood indeed.


The representative from the Census Bureau, a tall and skinny man, cleared his throat nervously. He looked through an energy barrier into a holding cell and Zell followed his gaze.


There was a creature. At least that was one word to describe it. It was humanoid in appearance having two eyes, nose, mouth and bipedal. However, it also had some sort of animal ear and a fine fur all over. It was dressed in what only could be considered a silk kimono. Why the product of worm's butts deserved to cover the stink of animal fur was lost on the retired Grand Moff but he chose not to comment on it.


When Zell did not speak the skinny man stammered, "We caught it on a transport and the Bureau has been going through hell to classify this ..this creature. It speaks basic and has been telling us a rather fantastical story about it's culture and its species importance in the galaxy." The man hesitated, "But.."


"But you don't fucking recognize it and you don't know what the fuck it's talking about, yes?" Zell asked rather amused.

The man brightened. "That's it exactly, Sir. You are one of the more experienced ..."

Zell laughed at the man's attempt at diplomacy. "You mean, I am one of the few old farts still around who remembers when Palpatine wiped his own ass instead of having minions do it for him?"

The man blanched at the total disregard for the First Emperor but Zell shrugged. The man was dead. And if Palpatine's dead corpse did not like the way Zell spoke... Well fuck, it could wake up and do something about it!


His chuckle put the man at ease and Zell put his arm on the shoulder of the Bureau man. "Do you know what that is?" he asked, pointing to the creature.


"No..No sir."


"That, my boy, is a fucking Atlantean."


"A what?"


Zell ignored the question, continuing with his description. "Been to their planet once. Had beautiful cities. Weak as shit.. I mean a planetary storm would level the damn spirals but the little fuckers would rebuild. Built fucking huge ships too. Couldn't do shit with them but they were nice to look at.."


Zell was smiling now in reminiscience. "I remember facing down their 20 kilometer ship in my old Star Destroyer Titan."


"20 kilometers!?" the other man gasped.

Zell shrugged, "Give or take." The started to chuckled, "You should have seen the Titan open up on that monstrosity. I swear, we had so much fun tearing that thing apart."


He patted the other man on the shoulder. "Let me talk to the little bastard."


The field went down and the creature immediately tried to leap giving a shrill yell as if the attempt itself would infuse it with strength from some unknown source.

Unfortunately, the mag-cuffs were connected to a panel behind the creature and his leap was very short lived and, well, very short.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going? You think this is a fucking cartoon?" Zell purred. Turning to the skinny man, he grinned, "Have the Captain of this facility get me a drink. If I have to waste my time I might as well make the most of it."


As the Census Bureau man went about his task, Zell looked at the creature and his grin turned feral. "What's your name?"


"Ooshuku," came the weary reply and Zell's grin widened. Oh, you're fucking Atlantean alright! Stupid fruity names!


"Tell me fruit-loop, your race still going on about being at Geonosis?"


"We WERE there!" the Atlantean shouted back.

"Of course you were." purred Zell. He barely remembered that campaign under the Grand Army of the Republic but of what he did remember, there were furry little Atlanteans serving with distinction. In fact, they were distinctly given an approach heavily mined. The furry little animals nearly got their butts handed to them crossing the treacherous approach. In the end, the Separatists were fleeing so the bloody charge really did not matter in the end. Whoever made the decision to send the animals up that approach saved a lot of more important clone troopers.


"You fuckers still think you are the reason the Clone Wars ended?"


"We WERE!" the Atlantean wailed.


"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. The droid armies stood down. The CIP couldn't have given a fuck about your pissant empire!"

"Han Solo is one of us!" the creature pointed out.

Zell had a slight coughing fit, "Han Solo?! He may be a rebel traitor but he's also a drunken Corellian dirtbag. Not some half walking, talking nerf/dog-thing like you!"


"Your Palpatine tried to crush us with thousands of warships and failed!" Ooshuku responded hotly, twisting against his manicles.

Zell spat in the little "dogman's" face. "Our glorious Emperor couldn't have given a shit about you dog-people! He hired pirates to attack your great fucking empire. What was it? One star system?"

The prisoner stared up in surprise.


Zell's grin widened. "Let me guess. You thought that not a whisper had come from the little debacle."


The person with the human face but animal ears and with light fur all over his body lowered his head.


"You build great freighters, I'll give you that. In the short time the rebel's psuedo-government lived, your big fat transports were the dreams of pirates and looters galaxy-wide."


The Census man returned, walking past the lowered field into the holding cell handing Zell his drink. Zell took a swig appreciating the Captain's taste in liquor. He wondered if the Captain's taste in women matched.


The Census man looked at the shackled dog-like creature. "It kept claiming that it belonged to some large empire that could have crushed us at will..."


Zell snorted. "I've heard their spill before. It's shot so full of inconsistencies, they make his fucking High Lord Regrad's speeches downright honest."

The old man ticked off his fingers, "First they have an empire lasting many millenia that spans the galaxy. Nevermind no one's ever heard of or seen it. Then, of their own volition, mind you, they shrink in size. Then they expand again and fight with the Grand Army of the Republic...but they're neutral, of course. Then they shrink in size, again of their own volition, because of the Empire and despite the fact that they could easily defeat us, the big ol nasty Imperials. No, they'd rather leave the galaxy to it's fate, become neutral and retreat. How can we ever face such brave souls as these?"

Zell's mimicked worry startled the Census Bureau man into laughter. The old man snorted, enjoying his rant.

"I don't know. They come out sometimes... Emperor knows why but I don't much care. It seems that if one of their kind steps on a world, they claim it as their own. Real fucking convenient. They have this story of being so grandly powerful but they are nowhere to be seen in a jam or any kind of conflict. They walk around with their assholes puckered tight scared of any little fart that escapes.

They might as well be animals." Zell stated sagely.


The Census man perked up. "Is that what we are classifying them as? They can talk, though."

"So can a Wookiee," Zell shrugged. "It's got fur and putting a silk kimono on it doesn't suddenly make it human, intelligent or something I want living next to me. Get it wet and it still stinks like a nerf."


The prisoner snarled at the comment but Zell ignored it.

"I mean look. It's a cross between a human, a short-haired wookiee and some dog-thing. Look at it's ears! It is probably part of a group that underwent some fucked up genetic experiments.

A freak of nature. A monster."


The Census man caught on. "We probably would not want them running wild among the civilian population."

Zell grunted. "Probably have all sorts of diseases. Shits in the street and eats their puppies and all that."


The Census man frowned. "Are there enough of them to really classify then?"


Zell shrugged. "Probably not. Spartan!"


One of the soldiers entered the containment room and walked into the holding cell.

"Remove the clothes from the creature!"


The Spartan complied despite the pitiful resistance of the creature.


Zell walked out of the holding cell and punched a comm unit on the wall. "Captain, Zell here. Looks like your soldier's shot an animal in the ventilation shafts. Flush it out with your next garbage disposal."


"Acknowledged" came the crisp reply.


"Spartan, shoot the animal." Zell ordered.


The creature's eyes widened. "NO! WA-.."


The blaster shot was quick and efficient.


Zell looked over at the Census man and grinned. "Classification problem solved."


And the retired Grand Moff left the contaiment room in search of the Captain, more booze and a woman. And not necessarily in that order.

Metaphysics Application
Advanced Tactical Planning



"Whenever some yahoo declares themselves a 'Dark Lord of the Sith', the bastard assumes three things. One, that he's the Force's fucking gift to the galaxy. Two, that every Sith will respect and submit to their proclamation of self fucking revelation and Three, that we who are not force users really give a fuck."

The class shifts slightly in amusement while the old man paces the chamber.

"Every Sith considers himself some bad mother-fucker and they will try to shock and awe us with their lack of respect or lack of value for human life. This is a psychological attack every bit as important as a physical attack for if you allow these fuckers to intimidate you, mistakes happen. If you allow fear to cloud your judgement or if you hesitate it will cost you your goal."


The old man turned around quickly pointing to several students, "I know some of you fuckers think that I act the way I do because I am old and eccentric. But this behavior is also my armor! You see, like a Sith, I think I am a pretty bad mother-fucker too. Like a Sith, I can turn myself cold to the horrors of war and meet them atrocity for atrocity. Such is war and as soldiers, we must be prepared to be as hardened to it as our enemies.

This, more than anything, will stump and break the mold of confidence these Sith fuckers have. And if they say otherwise they are fucking lying! FUCKING LYING! Because every fucking Sith thinks we have to lay down for them to put the heel of their boot to our necks.

WELL, FUCK THAT!

What you need to understand is that the Force is a tool. Not fucking God as the old Jedi Order adherents would have you believe. Nor is it the fucking end-all-be-all to existence as the fucking Sith would have you believe. As a tool, when used properly, it can be a valuable asset on the battlefield but, then, so can a superlaser. So, if you rely on that alone to win your fucking battles, then not only are you a fucking idiot, but one that has just laid out your enemy's strategy for them.

So, the grand strategy....

How do you defeat a fucking Dark Lord of the Sith if he shows up with his fucking fleet on your doorstep?"


Zell grinned.


"There is an easy way and there is a hard way. First off, if he's a shitty Dark Lord, because these fuckers are not promoted by any sort of merit of excellence but simply because they kicked a shittier Sith's ass. So, if he's not that good, you should be able to cut him and his fleet to ribbons with standard tactics. However, if he is the seventh bastard son of a seventh bastard son and really does know his Sith stuff, then the easiest strategy is to cut the head off the body."


"But, Sir," came a voice from the audience, "Suppose this strong Dark Lord also has quite skilled forces? Wouldn't they still put up a fight?"


The old man grinned at the speaker.


"Why would they?" he shot back and then raised a hand. "You must remember that when his majesty Dark Lord Danster the Gangster pops into your system, he's not there for the People's Democratic Republic of Ass Fuckers! He's not there for any grand Sith Empire! No, the bastard is there for himself! HE is the whole fucking reason they are in your system! You remove HIM, there is no reason for the little giblets that follow him to be there."


The old Moff shrugged, "I mean, if they still attack out of sheer anger at losing their fucking reason for being there, then by all means, put them in their graves. But if they are acting like raving dogs to simply cause as much destruction before you put them out of their misery, take heart. They've already handed victory over to you.

Typically, however, without their Dark Lord Majesty's interests to look out for, they'll turn to their own and believe me, it's in their best interests to be as far away from your guns as possible.

So, every planetary battery, every superlaser or long range missle or whatever.. Aim for the Sith fucker's ship! At the very least, he'll sacrifice his own men to save his skin and ship before fleeing.

But, if he does flee, then you have to defeat him the hard way."


Zell glowered, "You'll have to take out his powerbase."


"Why is it harder?"


"Because, you nitwit, you have to find it before you can blow it to hell. That means sending your ships out and searching rather than simply having the fucker throw his body on your spear."

"What if the Sith wins?"

Zell's eyes flashed anger at the stupid question, "Then, you bastard, you better spit in his face before you die!"

^

Life, as any good teacher will tell you, is an accident.

But a marvelous accident.

For eons ago, various compounds and materials came together in such startling combinations that the reaction itself produced a result that changed the nature idle elements into something different.

That this difference proceeded down a cascading cycle of ever expanding parameters shattering the realm of statistical probability to end up with a kernel of something resembling what would later be called 'germination' was no small miracle of chaos.

As these exploding chemicals of germination were nurtured despite the harsh environment surrounding them, a starvation of elements required alternate fuels to be collected, stored and processed. This would be called 'Self Preservation' thousands of years later though no thought process was actually involved. But then again, does self presevation require thought?

Onward this basic action went until, again the fuel that this self perpetuating system used began to run dry. The basic chemical reactions could no longer sustain the germination and so the reactions themselves changed. They bonded into more complex systems, the first groupings of which were a hodgepodge of unrelated matter that mostly withered and died. The dying groups released their molecular chemical reactions only to find the laws of physics holding the now-dead bonds in place high above the solid lifelessness of mass. But other bonds survived the reactions and hardened themselves to the retreating harsh environment for the dead-bonds above trapped elements that formed barriers around randomly floating mass that would later be called: atmosphere.

With the trapping of gasses, materials and elements inside a confined system the probability of not only the existence but the perpetuation of even greater complex chemicals increased.

From these gasses formed complex molecules.

From these gasses formed water molecules, the existence of which became what would be called: a building block.


And with this building block, the cycle started over.

Quite accidentally as there was no purpose or reason but simply the passage of time.

And so, again: various compounds and materials came together in such startling combinations that the reaction itself produced a result that changed the nature idle elements into something different.

That this difference proceeded down a cascading cycle of ever expanding parameters shattering the realm of statistical probability to end up with a kernel of something resembling what would later be called 'germination' was no small miracle of chaos.

As these exploding chemicals of germination were nurtured despite the very pleasantly growing environment surrounding them, a starvation of elements required alternate fuels to be collected, stored and processed. This would later be called: Photosynthesis.

Onward this basic action went until the chemical reactions could no longer sustain the current germination and so these systems adapted along a variety of vastly different paths depending on how the external catalysts affected the system in question.

And out of the many galaxies, out of the many stars, out those planets that had quite accidentally formed an atmosphere, out of those atmospheric worlds that had accidentally aquired the required amount of water, out of those water planets that contained the right amount of reactive material on the molecular level to self generate, germinate and bridge the gap between lifelessness and life, plants formed.

Actually, complex systems such as plants, animals, aliens and humans formed.

Not bad for an accident.


Now naysayers may bemoan the fact that observers have yet to actually 'observe' this process, this 'bridging of the gap' between lifelessness and life but such observations in themselves would, as any good scientist would tell you, change the environment from which these building blocks, chemical reactions and actions would be taking place.

The mere presence of an observer would make this random and unpredictable process moot for life cannot develop... actually, cannot come into being under controlled conditions.

It just happens.

And yet this is something that some people cannot accept.

That the mathematical precision with which the celestial bodies have apparently arranged themselves well enough for navigation of all sorts to be measured simply happened by accident comes as such a leap of logic for them that they would rather support the belief that an undetectable, unmeasurable and unquantifiable creature could have such intelligence as to design our intricate cosmic system on even a quantum level only to be so inept as to inadequately keep a fruit tree under guard to prevent the very life he created from selfishly eating from it.

The accidental leap from inert materials to life's building blocks, the accidental culmination of plant life, the accidental development of animal life and it's incidental sprouting of intelligence may stretch mathematical probabilities but stating that some omniscient creature created a world in six solar days (the length of said day would be determined, presumably, by the length of it's rotation depending on the world in question) strains credence.

All life needed was that one accident and the process then became cumulative.

All life needed was that one spot of water for germination.

All the greatest culmination of perfection, morality and emotion where there is no hunger, no pain, no sorrow and in which all needs were satisfied, all the greatest culture and civilization in the galaxy needed was that perfect environment, perfect temperature and perfect molecular reaction that happened at just the right moment, at just the right emphasis...

...when those unknowable compound acids bubbled forth to unleash that spark, that catalyst igniting ...no.. propelling that fire called "Life" forward into what would culminate into the greatest evolutionary triumphs of all time.


That perfect pool of life-giving, life-generating, civiliation-building, culture-fulfilling water..

Those compounds growing.... bubbling...


That SPARK...


Building...!


Building...!


Building...!






***




"Ensign Zell! What the hell are you doing!? Get away from that pool of water! We are the first visitors on this...this..! You put the entire Exploratoration Charter of Chancellor Valorum's at risk! Senator Palpatine is calling the expense unnecessary and that we need to focus on the Republic's own internal issues. Why--!"


"Fuck off, Nate! I don't need a damned political commentary! I was just taking a piss.."

"... simply put, gentlemen. The Azguards are a genetically manufactured race. Engineered to be perfect specimens of war.."


"Well, someone better shoot their designer. They are all fucked up when it comes to war." snorted Zell, his leathery chair creaking at he sat back.


The Xenobiologist known as Dominic gave the old man a withering look for interupting her and continued on, using a laser pointer to highlight specific areas of the holographic Azguard's anatomy. "Results notwithstanding of the bodies I have examined there are clear genetic markers that are so identical to each other that each Azguard might as well be a clone."


Supreme Commander Kaine's soft voice broke into the hesitation. "They are not clones, Dominic. We have much evidence that these creatures hold to their individualities as closely as any race.. including humans."


"I did not say they were clones," Dominic clarified, "but that certain markers are identical. Get enough of them together and you have a pattern for a cookie-cutter."


Zell barked out a laugh, "Like a Trandosian's ugly, stumpy stepchild! Fuck me. So the beasties can be programmed like fucking droids!"


"So you are saying that the Azguard single-minded hatred for the Empire and it's citizens, their single-minded attacks against us despite our repeatedly putting up with their existence, their single-minded devotion to so-called Gods that they can touch and see is bred into them?" Moff Jaeder asked incredulously.

"Why are we acting like this is the revelation to end all revelations?" Azrael Zell barked out. "We all knew the peckerheads were insane from the get-go."


Simon Kaine sighed. "It does add a new tactical element to the situation. No amount of negotiation will placate what is inbred into their very being."

"Fuck, I could have told you that!" came the old man's retort.

Simon clasped his gloved hands together and considered the retired Moff carefully. "Then, Zell, in light of this information, just how would you deal with them?"


"Easy! Cook them in their own shit!"


"Zell!" Dominic said reproachfully.

"They leave piles of shit in their wake on every fucking Coalition planet they step on. For being a minor race, they have all the government positions, have all the prime spots in the fleets.. I mean we fished enough of the bastards out of Corellian space to grind into paste that'll feed banthas for a decade! All shit stinks and even the Coalition will have a hard time swallowing the load of pious crap the Azguards have been force-feeding it for decades! The little religious shits may be genetic perversions of some fucked up race of 'gods' but the rest of the Coalition proceeds along the time-tested, good-old evolution."


Kaine smiled. "I agree. This genetic quality of theirs must be made to work against the Coalition as a whole. Such mutations in nature, like genetically engineered species, occur, nature takes care of her own and those species around the mutation will adapt in such a way as to ensure dominance over the mutation."


Admiral Ckeller pondered, "So the fact that the Coalition is going along with the Azguard agenda currently is because they are trying to adapt to the situation?"


"You mean the reason the Coalition's taking Regrad and his Azguard's ilk's bullshit in the ass is because they don't know what to fucking do about it right now."


"Adaptation to change is lethargic in a democratic state." Kaine murmrued.


"If this had been the Empire, we'd have simply shot the fuckers and been done with it." Zell remarked harshly.


It was Moff Jaeder that brought the discussion back on track, "So what do we do about it now?" He turned to the Supreme Commander, "How do we turn this genetic trait to our advantage?"


The eyes at the table turned to Kaine who sat there in quiet contemplation.


After a short length of time, he answered, "By increasing the opportunities for this genetic trait, this single-mindedness to run contrary to the very foundations of the Coalition ideology."


"In fucking Basic, Kaine. In fucking Basic.." growled Zell.


Simon grinned. "In simple terms, the 'nicer' the Empire is, the more the Azguards will shout at the top of their lungs of our devious evil intentions."


"And no one will fucking believe them because...?" Zell prodded.


"Because people believe what they see," the Supreme Commander responded with conviction.


Dominic narrowed her eyes, "And what will they see?"


Kaine turned to the others noting their expressions quietly before allowing his gaze to drift to the Xenobiologists holographic presentation. Finally, letting go of the dramaticism, he tapped a finger on the smooth black conference table and a hologram appeared.


"I give you the League of Nations."

The Past

BEGINNING


"Don't tell me you believe this religious bullshit of creationists?" Azrael Zell remarked, a hand absently moving over his blonde hair.

His friend, a dark haired boy named Werner, grinned shaking his head, "I don't think the position holds up well when put against the reality of a galaxy full of intelligent life.."

The two were walking fast to make it to their next class.

"Is that a no?" Zell smirked out casting an appreciative eye as a girl ran past them intent on not being late to her class either.

"Of course, it's a no. But it is only no as long as the evidence supports it. Since, we cannot conclusively prove one way or the other.."

"Bullshit!" Zell barked out and stopped causing the other to bump into him by accident causing both of their books to drop.

"Watch where the hell you stop.." chided Werner.

Zell ignored him, "You mean to tell me you don't believe in evolution? It's been fucking proven!"

Now it was Werner's turn to caste a disparaging eye at his classmate, "Zell, just because a fucking fruit-fly (to use your term) mutates into what we.. WE.. call a different species of fruit-fly doesn't prove anything but genetic mutation."

"But it's a different fucking species of fucking fruit-fly!" Zell snapped grabbing the last of his books.

"Some people think when a human is born with brown skin, they are a different species of human..." Werner bit back starting to walk again leaving Zell behind.

The blonde boy held his hands out, "Well, he fucking is!"

Werner stopped, turned around and pointed a finger at the other, 'NO! They are still human. Still the same species! Call the man black, brown, red or call him a different race, he is still fucking human! It is still a damned FRUIT-FLY!"

Zell kept his mouth shut suddenly nervous that their time to get to the next class was really winding down.

As they started walking again, Werner murmured, "Show me a fruit-fly that becomes a fucking nerf and I'll eat my words.."

Zell barked out a laugh in surprise.

"So, you going to join those religies?"

Werner grinned, "It's the Republic Diplomatic Corps, Zell... not Sunday School.."

Zell looked down, "But.. I thought we were going to enlist? You know? Go through basic training together? Bang our first female Captain?"

Werner chuckled at his friend, "You really are uncivilized aren't you? You need the military to give you the discipline you so very readily need."

"Bah!" Zell responded grinning. "The Republic is made strong on the backs of it's soldiers! There are so fucking few of them it needs all the help it can get. I mean, what if the Trade Fucking Federation gets some balls and actually tries to go against another member?"

"Then the Senate will look to it's diplomats..", Werner started.

"Pussies.." murmured Zell.

"We keep the Republic out of wars, Zell.." Werner chided, including himself in the vaunted legions of the Republic's Diplomatic Corps.

"How am I supposed to fucking fight if there's no war?" Zell complained.

Werner gave a sly grin, "Well, as an avid evolutionist, you should know that 'it is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.'"

Zell barked out an unconvinced laugh but nodded that his friend had made his point. "See you after class.."



CRUMBLING REPUBLIC


"THE PETITION OF A THOUSAND?!" Zell shouted at the only other person in the room. "Werner, we are in the midst of a fucking war!"

"Zell," his friend, dressed in the diplomatic attire of his profession, addressed sternly, "We are in the midst of a Civil War. Our own!"

"Fucking traitors!" spat back Zell, his decorations (what few of them there were) rattling as he moved about.

"They have grievances, Zell. Like you or I might have. It is the government's job to listen to those grievances to end this conflict!"

"You had your chance," bit back Zell angrily and perhaps a bit unfairly. "The fuckers wanted blood and now they've got it. We have a Grand Army now and we have Jedi Generals leading it! The Chancellor is right! The time for talking is over!"

"The Chancellor is suspending the processes that makes our civilization great! The Petition is a reminder that there are those Senators that still remember those processes and that military excesses are not going to be.."

"People are dying out there against Separatists guns. We need money! We need soldiers! We need ships! And we need them NOW! Not after some fucking Senators debate the finer points of law!"

"So you do agree that they are working within the framework of law." Werner pointed out and Zell scowled.

"What the fuck are you? A lawyer? More of this talk and the Republic will only be 'talk'. We are losing and the fact that the Chancellor is cutting past the red tape to get the military what it needs is something I cannot deride. I cannot support this... Petition."

"Zell, what good is winning the battle if you lose the war?"

"What are you talking about, Wern? We'll kick those Separatists bastards from one end of the Rim to the other!"

"What if you win militarily but find that the Republic ...is dying?"

Zell stopped and patted his friend, as if knowing what he was worried about. "Don't worry Werner. We are strong! The side that is strongest is the one that will survive."

Werner looked down sadly, "No, Zell. It is the one most responsive to change that will. And the galaxy is changing."

The Diplomat grabbed Zell's arm. "Stay well, friend."



EMPIRE


"You enslaved the Wookiees?! They were the Republic's staunchest allies against the insurrectionists.." the Diplomat accussed, outraged.

"Well, they aren't supporting the Empire with the same enthusiasm are they? Perhaps they cannot abide humans being the stronger.." Captain Zell responded absently.

"This is not right! This is not how you become great! By enslaving others!"

"If they are going to fight us, we will trample them underfoot! We did it for the Republic and we will do it for the Empire! Aliens were the weak-link that tore the Republic apart but they will not tear the Empire apart! The Emperor has seen to that."

Werner shook his head, "You're...we... are starting something that we will not be able to stop. And if you think our great civilization will survive, then you are.."

"Strength, Werner. Strength! That is what keeps us going and that is what will always keep us going. Dilluting our blood with inferior beings does nothing but weaken us!"

"This unbending attitude will be your eventual undoing, Zell. Will be the Empire's eventual undoing. The beings of the galaxy will respond to this change and, in the end, you will see who surivives."


"Ha! You sound like a Rebel scum bastard! But enough of this talk. I want to show you my newest command! An Imperator called the Titan. You want to see people respond to something.. Imagine the terrified fuckers on a planet with one of those things orbiting, ha!"



TWILIGHT

"So... Your Supreme Commander has retired and everyone is teetering with worry," came the raspy voice that interrupted Zell's thoughts.

Grand Moff (retired) Azrael Zell cast a glance down at the man lying in a bed missing an arm and a leg. Zell's hair had grown white with age but his friend merely was peppered with gray. A sight that slightly annoyed the Imperial.

"Bhindi Drayson will take over...." Zell muttered but even he stopped for he found, probably for the first time, that he had no ready comeback.

"And the galaxy will still reel from your boot, Zell! Why do you come back here, you old fool?"

His friend and former Diplomat, Werner, had joined the Rebellion and had celebrated his victory over the Empire by attaining a position within the New Republic only to see that government fall after Kaine's capture of Coruscant and the onset of the Wrath Virus.

When the Empire seized Corellia, once the New Republic's capital, Werner was critically injured. But Zell had ensured his one-time friend survived, albeit hidden away. Despite receiving the best medical care Zell could give him, the man was resentful and used every opportunity to deride Zell and the Empire.

But Zell did not really mind.

Only one person could speak to him like that and he did not fear the cripple for he knew, he was the stronger.

"To show you the true axiom of survival," he remarked. "And I will continue to show you until the day you die, my good friend."

His voice became hard, "You've pissed your life away with reactionary causes reveling in the fact that such responses give you some sort of evolutionary imperative. But the fact of the matter is, no matter how much you respond, how much you react, you just cannot succeed!"

Both knew they were no longer talking about each other.

"Kaine's retirement is a change. And probably some inferior, alien fucker will see that as something to respond too. As something to react too. All for some perceived advantage."

He leaned forward into the other's face. "But what you, what no one ever fucking figured out... is that the state of the Empire is STRONG! I made that happen. Myself, our Emperor, Drayson, Desaria, Kraken, Vos, Thorton....


...Kaine.

Let the galaxy... let the masses think his retirement means some sort of fucking freedom for them!

Because no matter how much you respond or react, Kaine ensured only one outcome for us..


..that we will... win!


..you crippled fuck!"



And with that, Zell stood up, not bothering to wipe the spittle off the other man's face and left him alone once more in the dark.



A single weak voice carried over the air circulators.

Too weak to be heard by anyone.


"..but for how long..?"