Faber est suae quisque fortunae
- Every man is the architect of his own fortune, Claudius
Course Correction Point 726, Mellian Way
En route to Vladet
In the deep blackness of space, her dagger-like form glistened in the light of nearby stars. A thousand-thousand lights from windows and viewports and strobing beacons winked on and off in patternless succession. Within her hull, a third of a million beings looked out for signs, for answers; against the darkness, they strained their eyes for some residue of lives almost forgotten in the midst of two years' campaigning.
All looked in vain. The bow of the great warship sliced through the vastness until ten clicks of the helsman's compuscope sounded upon the bridge. Then her engines flared and the fury of a star's fusion was channeled into pipes and tubes and turbines - the Super Star Destroyer Autarch vanished into hyperspace.
The sound of boots clicking upon the deck with measured precision disappeared into a din of activity. By the time they movement had stopped and two heels clicked together, the staccato thump was all but inaubible.
" Grand Admiral. We have completed our scans and all scopes read clear. We have returned to hyperspace. Our arrival time remains three days and that is if we skip refueling as planned."
Baron Telan Desaria turned from the starboard wing of the bridge, cutting short his thoughtful gaze at the bluish-greens of hyperspace. His Flag Captain, a squat man named Vorran, presented a rough image. His boots were polished and uniformed pressed, but he was not the lithe, light haired recruiting-poster image many conjured up when picturing Imperial officers. His hair was a black and grey mix, a little longer than regulations permitted, with thick appendages some might consider fat but crewmen knew to be veiled muscles.
" We will refuel at our destination, as planned. Inform engineering to make whatever cuts necessary to ensure the supply."
Vorran nodded his assent, and handed up a flimsiplast he'd tucked under his arm. " The latest reports from the burst traffic we intercepted two jump points ago. Decrypt sends its apologies for the delay."
Desaria felt the left side of his mouth twitch with the formation of a smile, but that was all the life such a gesture got. He took the data sheet and returned to the alcove.
The sheet had minor news, nothing of great military significant aside from picket deployments at Imperial Center, and even that was woefully but understandably abridged. Appended, of course, was a list of Emperor Kraken's latest decrees.
Emperor Kraken. Try as he might, the Baron of Raenoria could not wrap his mind around such a concept. The matter was fact, and thus out of his control - the Council of Moffs, that rarely meeting body who had advised both Daemon the First and Simon Kaine on matters political and domestic, had approved wholeheartedly; the Kommissariat, Intelligence, ISB, and even the Inquisitoriate had assented. The succession, by all reports, was legitimate.
Two years in Onyx fighting rebels, then Crusaders, then aliens of all kinds, had kept the small, outpost command almost isolated in its struggle. News flowed in before the HoloNet slowed to a trickle, but most soldiers were far too busy fighting for survival, both their own and their charges,' to notice much. The news of Coruscant's fall, countless battles, and two alien insurrections, did not hit the crew of the Autarch until they had the emptiness of hyperspace in which to think. With Onyx at their rudder, information had a chance to sink in.
Grand Admiral Desaria was no different. Standing alone on the far side of the bridge, silhouetted against the viewports out which he stared, his brain raced on so mnay issues, all battling for an audience before his mind's eye. The coronation of the new Emperor won.
Him??!! Whether a declaration or question, Desaria's mind knew not. Park Kraken was an able administrator and economist - to be sure, he was grand strategist but had the tactical abilities expected of all flag officers during his service with the Fleet-proper. To be Emperor, he needed only point the way the Empire would proceed - able men would see his will be done.
If Park Kraken was to be Emperor, then Grand Admiral Telan Desaria would swear his allegiance. If Park Kraken chose to divide and dawdle, then...history would judge. Either way, the Commandant of the Imperial Guard was returning to stage.
- Every man is the architect of his own fortune, Claudius
Course Correction Point 726, Mellian Way
En route to Vladet
In the deep blackness of space, her dagger-like form glistened in the light of nearby stars. A thousand-thousand lights from windows and viewports and strobing beacons winked on and off in patternless succession. Within her hull, a third of a million beings looked out for signs, for answers; against the darkness, they strained their eyes for some residue of lives almost forgotten in the midst of two years' campaigning.
All looked in vain. The bow of the great warship sliced through the vastness until ten clicks of the helsman's compuscope sounded upon the bridge. Then her engines flared and the fury of a star's fusion was channeled into pipes and tubes and turbines - the Super Star Destroyer Autarch vanished into hyperspace.
* * *
The sound of boots clicking upon the deck with measured precision disappeared into a din of activity. By the time they movement had stopped and two heels clicked together, the staccato thump was all but inaubible.
" Grand Admiral. We have completed our scans and all scopes read clear. We have returned to hyperspace. Our arrival time remains three days and that is if we skip refueling as planned."
Baron Telan Desaria turned from the starboard wing of the bridge, cutting short his thoughtful gaze at the bluish-greens of hyperspace. His Flag Captain, a squat man named Vorran, presented a rough image. His boots were polished and uniformed pressed, but he was not the lithe, light haired recruiting-poster image many conjured up when picturing Imperial officers. His hair was a black and grey mix, a little longer than regulations permitted, with thick appendages some might consider fat but crewmen knew to be veiled muscles.
" We will refuel at our destination, as planned. Inform engineering to make whatever cuts necessary to ensure the supply."
Vorran nodded his assent, and handed up a flimsiplast he'd tucked under his arm. " The latest reports from the burst traffic we intercepted two jump points ago. Decrypt sends its apologies for the delay."
Desaria felt the left side of his mouth twitch with the formation of a smile, but that was all the life such a gesture got. He took the data sheet and returned to the alcove.
The sheet had minor news, nothing of great military significant aside from picket deployments at Imperial Center, and even that was woefully but understandably abridged. Appended, of course, was a list of Emperor Kraken's latest decrees.
Emperor Kraken. Try as he might, the Baron of Raenoria could not wrap his mind around such a concept. The matter was fact, and thus out of his control - the Council of Moffs, that rarely meeting body who had advised both Daemon the First and Simon Kaine on matters political and domestic, had approved wholeheartedly; the Kommissariat, Intelligence, ISB, and even the Inquisitoriate had assented. The succession, by all reports, was legitimate.
Two years in Onyx fighting rebels, then Crusaders, then aliens of all kinds, had kept the small, outpost command almost isolated in its struggle. News flowed in before the HoloNet slowed to a trickle, but most soldiers were far too busy fighting for survival, both their own and their charges,' to notice much. The news of Coruscant's fall, countless battles, and two alien insurrections, did not hit the crew of the Autarch until they had the emptiness of hyperspace in which to think. With Onyx at their rudder, information had a chance to sink in.
Grand Admiral Desaria was no different. Standing alone on the far side of the bridge, silhouetted against the viewports out which he stared, his brain raced on so mnay issues, all battling for an audience before his mind's eye. The coronation of the new Emperor won.
Him??!! Whether a declaration or question, Desaria's mind knew not. Park Kraken was an able administrator and economist - to be sure, he was grand strategist but had the tactical abilities expected of all flag officers during his service with the Fleet-proper. To be Emperor, he needed only point the way the Empire would proceed - able men would see his will be done.
If Park Kraken was to be Emperor, then Grand Admiral Telan Desaria would swear his allegiance. If Park Kraken chose to divide and dawdle, then...history would judge. Either way, the Commandant of the Imperial Guard was returning to stage.