Imperial Martial Academy - Raltiir


Weary-eyed students looked up with dread as the aged man strode down the aisle. Though they stood silent, each one groaned as he mounted each small step to the stage. Their eyes locked on each other while he stepped slowly towards the podium. A collective sigh hissed out perceptible to the older men at the back, though the lone figure at the podium received nothing from his aged ears. His lips parted. " Be seated."


The hall filled with the ruffle of a thousand field-grey uniforms as the senior class sat down. On one side of the speaker rested the Great Standard of the Empire, on the other the Imperial Academy flag with the Raltiir Crest squarely at its center. The future young leaders of the military gazed at one, then the other, finally the white-uniformed Field Marshal with the hair to match.


" Gentlemen, the Coalition is dead, the Onyxian Commonwealth offered up to us as a price paid in blood to stem the slaughter we could wreak. The question at hand is how do we dissect it? An entire sector is lain at the feet of our Emperor, but we cannot just seize it. Why?"


Murmurs bubbled up but no one stood to be recognized. Naval cadets glanced between each other, even casting sideways glances towards Army cadets who looked towards Fighter Corps cadets. The cadets wearing very thin red stripes on their breeches refused to cast glances at any but their number, but even they muttered not. One lone student felt many eyes on him and be succumbed. He stood from the front row of the center phalanx of seats, his white braided aigulettes bustling as he did. He stared forward and dared do that which others did not.


" Commandant, we cannot conquer the entire sector at once for fear of diverting too many resources. Onyxian forces will stand down accordingly but the civilian populace may prove resistive. Another reason is the shortage of surface personnel that a full occupation would require."


Field Marshal Archduke le Grange smiled a thin lipped smile as his eyes moved up to the portraits of those graduates who had sat where those before him had sat. Marshal Prem, Chief of the General Staff; Colonel-General Viktrovich, the most renowned artillerist in the Empire; Grand Admiral Desaria, Commander of the Guard; Field Marshal von Laang, Commandant of the Fighter Corps: all once the Master Students of their class, each seemingly looking down at the twenty-three year old dark skinned Balmorran who had shouldered their legacy. Only he stood to be heard, as they had. " So what, then, is the course of action required?"


" The only logical course is to occupy a few key systems such as Ord Mantell and Onyx itself and send out strong patrols from there. Creating centres of power will spread influence without requiring direct occupation of all worlds."


La Grange inhaled deeply. My lectures on strategy haven't ebbed over the last thirty years. I'm glad to see I haven't lost my touch."





Onyx Sector


The frigates came first, broadcasting a message of compliance as they went. Active sensors pinged away, driving civilian traffic before them. Cruisers dropped from hyperspace shortly thereafter, securing jump points and training their guns on any craft that even hesitated to do as commanded. Battleships came next in line ahead before fanning out further and further. At the tip of a turbolaser cannon, the Imperial Banner had been pinned to every crevice of the Onyx System.


" All ships have reported in. We read three orbital platforms of a military nature around Onyx itself. The bases on both moons are fully manned. All scopes read clear of fighters, however. There is no sign of Onyxian combat ships larger than gunships."


Grand Admiral Desaria growled lowly and stood from his chair. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. They will present a problem for us in the future during our patrols if they chosen to ignore the demobilization or deployment orders ot Sinsang. However, we should be able to effectively project our power all the same. Direct occupation of all systems in this sector won't be neccessary.


" Sir, we have continued to broadcast the Grand Marshal's message on all frequencies. Civilian vessels have acknolwedged it but we've received no reply from governmental facilities on the surface. Intelligence reports that the civilian government has all but shut down."


" Very well," the Grand Admiral replied. " Begin landing our troops at once. Send the assigned teams to lunar bases and assign our patrol craft sectors. When the system is completely secure, inform Vice Admiral Reyez and order him to deploy the remainder of the Seventh Fleet."


The Lieutenant Commander saluted and moved off. A scant few minutes passed before technicians facilitated the arrival of another four squadrons of warships. Grand Admiral Desaria stood in solitude, but that solitude was not long to last. Another officer quickly arrived with a printed communqiue.


From: Imperial High Command Central Communications Circuit. Originator: Simon Kaine, Grand Marshal XG773937-B. Moff Gorin has been injured in a shuttle accident. He is expected to recover but will remain on leave for the following three weeks. Until such time as a replacement can be deployed, you are ordered to assume role of acting Governor, Onyx Sector. Duration of the aforementioned should not exceed one month. Transmission Over.


Grand Admiral Desaria shuddered as his ships dashed about the system around his flagship. He barred his teeth and let the flimsiplast sheet fall, crumbled, to the decking.


" Damn!"

Grand Admiral Desaria quickly returned the salute of a passing junior officer. Though his eyes remained straightforward, they were vacant of the fire that lit them. He gazed ahead, all memory vanished of military protocol's interruption; his mind was elsewhere. Though he pushed the buttons on lift-tube control panels, he focused not on his destination, nor even where he was. He wandered aimlessly around his own flagship, one word hanging at the tip of his tongue, searing it.


Governor.


Try as he might, the aristocrat could think of nothing else. There were those who would have seen the addition of a title simply another notch on his belt of accomplishments, others who would see the attaining of the officer of governor a career's pinnacle moment. For the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Guard, it was a demotion.


Damn you, Simon! You did this, and you're probably laughing at it, too.


Countless turns and strides later, Desaria was standing in a transparisteel-lined corridor running along the dorsal side of the port gundecks. He glanced out at the barrels of turbolasers, then up at passing TIE pickets and patrols. In their perfect form he took solace in the simplicity of military discipline. Sighing, he recalled the oldest of martial dictums: 'tis not mine to reason why, only do. Or die.


Very well then. I may hate the assignment, but I'll do it as well as I can.


" Your Excellency!"


Still barely cognizant of events, a gloved hand swept the comlink from his belt and brought it to thin lips far too often devoid of a true smile. " Desaria here."


" Sir, our patrols have completed their search of the system. According to Intelligence data, we are unable to account for five Dominator-class Heavy Cruisers and as many Bird of Preys."


The Grand Admiral turned towards the interior of his flagship, his mind once more as focused as it should have been. " Intelligence assumes they've gone rogue?"


" After a fashion, sir. Intelligence assumes they'll make a run for the Confederation."

" All right, Colonel, you have my attention. Why would Onyxian warships run for the Confederation?"


Colonel Anton Hatsumura stood at the edge of the small elevated slab of decking where the Grand Admiral sat behind an expansive wooden desk. A tiny light covered by an emerald lamp shade cast the only illumination nearby, the glowrods along the far walls turned low for some sinsiter effect; though he could only barely make them out standing around, Hatsumura knew the ship's captain, Vorran, and the Grand Admiral's Chief of Staff, General Maxim, to be among those hidden in shadow.


" Sir, we've accounted for eighty percent of Onyxian warships in the zone of occupation and begun their demobilization. However, five of their largest ships, battlecruisers, we have not been able to locate. Agents in place before the annexation reported them to be on station at Onyx. All of these ships were grouped into a Task Force named Retribution, supposedly some sort of parade unit while also a reactionary formation to any border assault. The unit was commanded by a Rear Admiral, Enkvist."


" And you think this Enkvist ordered his men to ignore the redeployment orders to Coalition space and abscond?"


Hatsumura cleared his throat. " Not at all sir. Enkvist is not, despite his rank, a leader. His flag captain is a humanoid of considerable personality and popular among their fleet, doubtless he gave the order and Enkvist went along with it. This Captain, Dobrotvorsky, is friends with the other four battlecruiser commanders and it isn't a stretch to assume getting their approval was easy."


" So why the Confederation?"


" Captain Dobrotvorksy is Soroyan by birth, but his family being Republic military moved to Onyx in his early years and he's been there since. Also, he has a burning hatred for us - his father was aboard the Claymore-class Cruiser Sanguine which was lost at Corellia. It is the analysis of Imperial Intelligence that he will want to continue to fight us by any means neccessary and will think the Confederation his best hopes for that given the recent hostilities between the Empire and the Confederation."


" Impressive, Colonel. It is good to see that having an Intelligence Agent on my flagship is not an entire waste. Well done. Have you surmised his course, or perhaps where he is likely to make contact?"


" We have not, sir. However, we do know he cannot go far. The assault at Bilbringi was a largely Onyxian affair and as such they used up almost their entire fuel reserve to launch that strike. Those five battleships and the five Birds of Prey with them will require refuelling soon since they have been on in-system patrol since. With our ships en-route to all systems in this sector, he will have no choice but to try and take fuel."


" Excellent. Dismissed, Colonel. Keep me informed."


Hatsumura maintained a dour expression as he turned on a heel and marched from the Grand Admiral's darkened office. As the doors shut behind the black-clad Colonel, Desaria faced the top members of his retinue. Brigadier General Maxim had a look of disbelief on him. " I can't put much stock into it."


" It is only a theory, true enough, but what others are there. These ships simply could have gone rogue and are simply lying in wait to make guerilla war upon us, but either way, the ships are missing and they are a threat. If nothing else, they will need resources to do either."


" So we have to draw them out, then," intoned Captain Vorran in his baritone voice.


" Exactly; General, see that a trap is baited for our prey."

" Captain Dobrotvorsky."

The bulk of the Ravanok shuddered under foot as her powerful twin reactors pulled the battlecruiser from hyperspace. The Captain felt the familiar vibration and shut his eyes, taking comfort in the tranquility of repetition. The voice of Admiral Enkvist was quick to shatter that tranquility, prompting him to turn and all but scowl at the approaching figure.

" Captain, we have an urgent problem. We are lacking on fuel; by the calculations of Commander Fillipov, we have enough for five hours' hyperspace travel at most. What do you propose we do?"

Dobrotvorsky clenched his teeth; the Admiral was saying nothing he did not already know. Had the man chosen to exit his cabin more than once a day, he would have seen they were already on a new course. Had he looked out the viewport, he would have seen the other ships reforming for the next leg of the hyperspace journey, having dropped out only to adjust course. " Well, sir, we need to resupply. Imperial ships have landed garrisons at all of our worlds except Mobus and Codian. Both have a sizeable stock of fuel we can appropriate but Codian is far too populated for us to go unnoticied. We could make it to Mobus in an hour."

" And you do not think we will be attacked?"

Of course I do; that's why we aren't going. " Of course, sir. Shall I order us to set course?"

Enkvist smiled from behind his beard. " Yes, Captain. Keep me informed."

The large-framed man turned and left the bridge just as quickly as he came. The Captain, for his part, would have openely sneered were there not so many crewmen nearby. Want as he did, it simply would not do to have the Admiral's word questioned. Thankfully, I won't have to deal with him much longer. He doesn't even want to fight them. He will pay for his lack of courage.

Claymores and Maurauders alike vanished with one flick of a slave-linked hyperspace command, their bows pointed at a bright star ahead known on other maps as Codian...

Line Captain Holzen drummed his fingers against the railing around the crewpit, his eyes shifting from one crewman to another. It was monotonous work, waiting, and he did not handle monotony very well. So far, he had counted every steel tile that made up the deck plating under his boots and catalogued no less than twenty uniform violations for the members of his bridge staff.


I'm going to go mad. Ten more days before we can do anything about them. Holzen stopped drumming, one hand grasping the other as he slid them behind his back nonchalantly. He looked out at Codian Moon and the horde of civilian vessels hurrying back and forth. His crew was doing an excellent job, keeping busy tracking and registering each ship, making detailed sensor scans and profiles that would be reviewed by black-uniformed Intelligence analysts with great brains and often sloth-like appearances. He, however, amid all the chaos and confusion, had nothing to do. The Hypergates had disgorged soldiers on the primary Onyxian worlds, leaving him to ferry those troops to the other far-flung reaches of the Occupation Zone. That job, however, was now done.


" We have another group of hyperspace reversions, grid 12-6236B," reported one officer. Holzen tuned out the message, instead flicking an invisible piece of lint from his spotless uniform. His ears couldn't help but perk when another officer chimed in, a voice from the tactical station that had been silent for a few days. " Those aren't all frieghtors...that looks like....a Marauder!"


Holzen released his hands from one another and give a little victory rasp to the railing, his face contorting into a grin. A Marauder-class corvette was certainly not supposed to be there, and he now had something to do. " Battle alert, gentlemen.. Querry that ship for an identifier."


The tactical officer silenced the battle alarm and called over the din, " four more corvettes are in with that mess of transports. Five altogether."


Holzen lost his grin but brought it back to life inside - he was definitely happy, but it simply wouldn't do for the commanding officer of the Thirteenth Fleet's Reconnaissance Detachment to be smiling. He had four ships to the arriving five, but his were powerful Hammer-class Cruisers. Victory was almost certain.


" Notify command we have an unauthorized entry, possible Onyxian ships that have not demobilizied. We are engaging. Ops - all ships, fall in behind us. Orient us straight at the lead corvette and fire as she bears."


" Aye si-"


" Secondary reversions," a shrill voice interrupted from the sensor station. " Multiple targets, unknown specifications. Stand by - Claymore Battlecruisers. I count five, say again five. They're going to slash across our dorsal quarter!"


Holzen gripped the railing all his might, the inner smile gone. He looked aft through the upper viewports in time to see the Uhlan trade places with an expanding cloud of orange and red flecked with black dots of twisted wreckage. A second later, when his own ship began to rock, he admitted something to himself, and frowned. Boredom wasn't that bad, after all.





" This displeases me greatly, Rear Admiral Tolbin. Greatly. What is the total damage?"


Recreated in a bluish tint, the quarter-size form of the Thirteenth Fleet's 1st Division blinked in astonishment, no doubt expecting some titannic reprovement for the debacle only a system away from a well-planned ambush. " Three cruisers are lost, another heavily damaged; twenty Defenders destroyed as well. The four tankers on station were taken as well, we presume their crews to be lost. Each ship was equipped with a self destruct system and failsafe - we are plotting their escape course now and will search for debris."


" Very well, Admiral. Continue immediately; update me as soon as you find something."


Grand Admiral Desaria deactivated the HoloNet receiver without even signing off. He steepled his fingers in the darkness of his office and narrowed his eyes. Gazing out into space, he looked past the transports and attendent vessels of the Thirteenth Fleet. Intelligence had done its tasks, but they had erred in predicting where the rogue Onyxians would pounce on a convoy for fuel.


Codian is an odd choice. It isn't near a major shipping lane; even if they had stayed and bombarded the planet, they would not have hurt us. Codian is ever closer to the Unknowns than Mobus. Where...


An epiphany struck the Grand Admiral as his eyes attacked a two-dimensial representation on the wall of his new fiefdom, the Onyx Sector. He saw Mobus, Codian, and where the rogues had been reported last. Realization was sweet. They did not stay because this man, Dobrotvorsky, knows he cannot hurt us, not alone. He will need help, and Onyx cannot give him that anymore. So he will seek refuge in the one place still with enough fight to defy the Emperor. So much the better.


Desaria stood and clicked on his comm. " Captain Vorran, this is Desaria. Prepare the ship for hyperspace, and draft us an escort from the Fleet. We are departing as soon as the reactor is powered - set a course for Esfandia. And Captain?"


" Yes, Your Excellency?"


" Battle alert."

Military logic dictated that, on a scale as large as naval warfare, on a scope as vast and the Onyx Sector, a hunch would be accurate only in so far as the chances of winning the Imperial 7000 Lottery came to fruition. Grand Admiral Desaria stood on the bridge of his flagship, his features set in iron as he gazed off the bow, and took pride in his defiance. Logic dictated that he, that no man, could predict battle - and he had.


Of course, that prediction was a matter of looking at variables and choosing one almost at random. He knew that - any officer worth his salt knew that - but teh public would see it as clairvoyance. To that the Baron of Raenoria only shrugged - he would let the press enjoy their blissful ignorance for off the bow were five slender warships of the former Onyxian Fleet. Five ships that should have long since disappeared from annexed Imperial territory and by having refused to leave when time permitted, where no hunted like targs on Kiffex.


" We have them, sir!"


Grand Admiral Desaria ignored the Captain and instead looked forward. There was something off - there should have, by all rights, been escorts. Even rogue, those men were - reportedly - not brand new to their posts and accordingly would not be simply orbiting Esfandia bereft of escorts.


" Sensors, push the sphere out to max. Any ship's present?"


" Negative, Excellency; scopes are clear."


" Very well - Ops, activate the GDS."