“High Command continues to be impressed by your work, Commodore,” Vice-Admiral Vikar said, peering over the report in his hands at the much younger man. “You’ve demonstrated both political and tactical savvy. It used to be enough that a commander have tactical ability, but these days, the line between politician and warrior has blurred; warlords become governors, governors warlords.”

“Yeah,” Theren replied evenly, unsure as to where Vikar’s speech was going.

“There has been something of a directive, issued from the Grand Marshall. Kaine has always been fond of unconventional operations, as you well know; aside from the oddity of a member of the army being the supreme commander of Imperial forces, and the fact that the rank ‘Grand Marshall’ didn’t exist until he had it created, even his tactics are often… bizarre.”

“Yes…”

“The directive states that all members of the admiralty should strike out with their own assigned forces, and use them to carve out a holding of space governed and controlled by them; to then use the forces garnered by their expansion to conquer yet more territory. It is something of a modification of the old sector system; each of these ‘sectors’ are to operate somewhat autonomously of the Empire.”

“I see.” Theren said, finally understanding what it was Vikar wanted. “So, you’re looking to become a Moff, of sorts. You have an assignment for me, then?”

“Not exactly,” Vikar replied, smiling slowly. “Gevel, I am growing older. I haven’t the time or patience to govern a territory of my own – and if I did, I don’t believe I would want to. You, on the other hand, are a young man, and possessed of both tactical ability and political savvy that, perhaps, even I cannot match. I have discussed this at length with High Command, and the Grand Marshall himself has given his consent: despite your low rank and lack of seniority, you will take part in this expansion project. In a way, you will do so in my place.”

Theren blinked, and cleared his throat. “I couldn’t do that.”

Vikar raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“You promoted me. You’ve been my commander ever since. It wouldn’t be right.”

Vikar chuckled slightly. “Theren, regardless of the lack of respect shown for you in many parts of Imperial Command, one day, I am sure that I will be the one saluting you.”

“I doubt it.”

“I don’t.”

Theren took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

“You say that,” Vikar replied, “As if you were provided with a choice.”



In order to understand a region or its people, you must first understand their history.

“Where, then?” Tornel asked somewhat abruptly, seeming less than surprised at Theren Gevel’s announcement.

“I have some ideas,” Theren said, staring down at the datapad in front of him. He hit a few buttons on the thing, tilting his head to one side and smiling slightly. “Have you heard of the Senex Sector?”

The man in the black suit smiled slightly at Theren, saying, “You’re a history teacher, correct?”

“No shit.”

“I wonder just how much history you know. I understand you’ve mobilized your detachment for Senex.”

“Right again. Been doing your research.”

“Yes. I want you to know that I personally congratulate you on behalf of Imperial Command on your being granted this opportunity. We did not anticipate your choice of targets, though maybe we should have.”

“Maybe. Is this going anywhere, or are we going to discuss fuck-all and the weather for another hour?”

It was late. Half-past 0100 hours, probably. Theren hadn’t kept track. He’d dug through files all night, the Imperial library yielding less than he’d hoped. That is, until it yielded what could only be a member of Imperial intelligence. “You may be surprised with what you find in the Senex sector, Mr. Gevel.”

“I doubt it. Are you questioning the accuracy of Imperial files?”

The man in the black suit blinked. “Perhaps I am. But I suggest to you that if you discover something in Senex which surprises you, you keep both that surprise – and the cause – to yourself.”

“Is that an order?”

“Oh, certainly not. I’m just a civilian, of course. Call it a suggestion.”

The man in the black suit began to walk away, and Theren stared laser blasts into his back. “Yes, sir.”



The Senex Sector. As strange and bizarre a place as there was in a galaxy which was as diverse as it was possible to be. To a casual observer, the odd orbits and outlandish species of planets like Ossus or the Ssi-Ruuk territories might be considered the strange part of the galaxy. But to a history teacher, to one absorbed in things of politics and people, the Senex sector was the oddity.

The Empire, old and new, had reached out its tendrils of stability, influencing thousands, millions of worlds. It had ruled almost every planet, anywhere, at one point or another in history; it had grown, shrunk, divided and fallen upon itself multiple times, but in all of its incarnations, it had never touched Senex.

“It’s ancient and aristocratic, for one. An isolationist society – obviously, to have never been under Imperial rule.” Theren poked a finger at the holographic map. “It has it’s own very complex political system, one which has set itself deeply in the rigid demands of tradition.”

“You sound like you’re quoting a history textbook.”

Theren smirked slightly. “That’s because I am. But it’s a history textbook that I wrote.”

“This isn’t a new obsession, then?” The aide asked, smiling knowingly. “You’ve had your eye on Senex for awhile.”

“Yeah, well. I did research into it when I started teaching at Imperial College, and wrote something for a history textbook. It wasn’t published.”

“Why not?”

Theren shrugged the question off, fixing Tornel with a look that stated he wasn’t getting an answer. Ironically, there was nothing that could have tipped off the Commodore’s aide less to its importance. “As I said, Senex is highly aristocratic. It was settled a long time ago, probably near the beginning of the Old Republic; it was far enough away from the core that, at that time, the founders achieved complete autonomy. Which led to a system of slavery, both of humans and non-humans.”

“I see.”

“You have to understand the history to understand the people. I have no doubt that we can defeat the Senex fleet forces. Unfortunately, that’s never the most difficult part. On the ground, things are never so cut-and-dry. You can never make a people just surrender to you. That’s where the shit that lives in infamy happens.”

“This, from a man who has captured all of one densely populated world.”

“History, history, history.”

“Right.”

“Now, as I was saying, smart ass. There are three houses; Vandron, Elegin, and Garonnin…”

The Vandron, Elegin, and Garonnin had been at some semblance of war for hundreds, if not thousands of years. The houses were royal and ancient, each in possession of its own fair-sized fleet and defensive force; certainly enough to bully a region full of downtrodden worlds into submission as they pleased. The only enemies were one another, and the constant battle kept any one house from emerging as dominant.

How that was about to change, Theren reflected.

The surprising level of isolation in the Senex sector had long since worn off for Theren, but the importance of it had not. Obviously, despite the enmity each house held for the other, the enmity they held for outside influences were far greater. That, too, would need to change – or, more accurately, be changed – before anything else could change.

Theren lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling of his quarters, the illumination of which was alternated by the twisting blue of hyperspace. Most commanders asked for quarters without viewports opening to space; perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of a desire for sleep without worry. Theren found it calming, that nothing serious could happen without his knowing it; that he could remain, even vaguely, in control as he rested.

Yes, he reflected; one house would need to be pitted against the other, in order for an Imperial victory. There was no precedent for this sort of operation; there were so few isolated sectors left, that typically, any world would accept Imperial occupation as an unanticipated but not unknown or unthinkable fact of life. This would be different; very different.

Theren had dispatched agents into the Senex sector. Finding a flight to anywhere in the Senex sector had been difficult, with one world only being an exception; Belsavis. A world pocked by climate-controlled domes, with many agricultural exports. Densely populated.

The perfect foothold into a sector once considered off-limits to the Empire, for more reason than one.

The wisdom that no outside influence had ever wormed its way into the Senex sector was not entirely true. One thing – one man – had.

Karrix Moraei.

Theren rolled out of his bed. He had work to do; they were already awaiting him in communications, preparing to craft a very special recording.



Theren threw on his officers’ jacket as he walked onto the bridge, brought by a call from Tornel to communications. He nodded to his aide, blinking a few times and looking out the viewport of the Zenith; they’d reverted back to realspace. Before them loomed a single star and the planets around it, rapidly approaching. “This is?”

“The Affital system, as you requested, sir.” Tornel said.

“Good, good.” Theren had indeed requested that they revert from hyperspace in the Affital system, a holding of the oldest of the three houses, Vandron. The oldest, most powerful, and thus, he surmised, the most proud; this, as with anything, he would work to his advantage. They’re hailing us, I expect?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Reply. Inform them that we are part of an Imperial Exploratory Survey and Mapping Expedition. And request an audience with the planetary governor.”

“You think they’ll grant that?”

“If only to tell us to fuck off.”

The communications officer on duty did as he was ordered, visibly relaying Theren’s message to the planet’s officials. In only seconds, a reply was received and forwarded to the bridge. “They’re requesting to be patched through directly, sir. Shall I grant their request?”

“Yeah.”

From the bridge holoprojector came the miniature replica of a small, rotund man with a garish moustache and an obviously gruff demeanor. He grunted a Theren, squinting at him wearily. “Yes? What is it that you want?”

It looked to the Commodore like they’d awakened him from a long nap, and left him in a most unpleasant demeanor. “Who is it that I’m speaking to?” Theren shot back, as grumpily as the first question had been put.

“I am,” the little man said as if pontificating on the nature of life or some other worldly subject which he needed to inform lesser minds of, “The commander of the Affital IV defense fleet, General Vial Kinnex. You may address me as such.”

“Ah,” Theren replied evenly. “As my communications officer stated, we are part of an Imperial Exploratory Survey and Mapping Expedition which has been dispatched to update maps of this region. We ask only a brief period with which to view your system.”

“You have an awfully large group of vessels, young man,” Kinnex said, as if addressing a twelve-year old boy with a suspicious number of credits clutched in hand and a guilty look in his face, “To be part of a mapping expedition.”

“This is an unknown region. You keep to yourselves, you members of the Elegin house,” Theren said with a purposely-inserted degree of certainty in his voice, not stressing the intentional misstatement in the sentence but stating it as if it were casual fact.

“Excuse me?” The little hologram of Vial Kinnex said, squinting yet more. “Elegin? There are no Elegin here, not in this system.”

“But we were informed by a group of craft which we met in the Ti’agal system that the royal Household Elegin is the dominant force in the Senex sector. We can send you the records, if you’d like.” Theren said incredulously.

“They were lying, obviously. Yes, please do send those records.” The General, now stricken with an even greater deal of annoyance no longer directed at the Imperials, looked increasingly distracted. “Well, do your mapping, then. We will be watching most closely.”

“Ah, one more thing,” Theren said quickly. “If you could dispatch a repair craft, I believe we have some slight damage on the aft side of my ship. Incurred in the asteroid field of Ti’agal, I’m afraid.”

“Hmph. Yes, alright, then. Kinnex out.”

Tornel looked concernedly at Theren. “Are you sure that’s wise?” He asked. “They could look over our records… get a readout on our ship, hack into our mainframe, who knows.”

“They won’t find anything that will be of any use to them, trust me. Where we’re going, people who the Vandron wouldn’t speak to in a thousand years – and maybe haven’t spoken to in a thousand years – will be in charge.”

“Why, then? There isn’t any damage on our aft side.”

“Two reasons. First, it’s appropriate to appear bumbling, since we supposedly just fucked up, and committed diplomatic suicide. Second, Ti’agal really does have an asteroid belt. And, in fact we’ve had that damaged turbolaser on the aft side since Kamino, but they won’t know that.” He turned to the communications officer. “Send that record we prepared, please. In a moment, though. Don’t want to look eager.”

“Yes, sir.”

Theren look one more look out the viewports. “Alright, then. When the repair craft is done looking at that turbolaser, tour the system for about thirty minutes. Scan visibly. Look like you’re mapping. Then jump for the Moraei system.”

Tornel approached Theren as he departed the bridge. “Where is Ti’agal, anyway?”

“It’s an ancient system of the Vandron Household. It is religiously significant, you could say; they believe that a great hero of the Vandron family personally slew three hundred Elegin there. It’s off-limits, strictly, even to most Vandron ships.” Theren smiled. “Beginning to understand?”

“Yeah. History.”

“Right.”

They jumped into the Belsavis system early in the day – in the Belsavis day, of course.

They’d spent two days in the Moraei system, a prime broadcast point, named for the very man that many of their broadcasts concerned. The system was utterly devoid of life, but Karrix Moraei had, for some reason, taken a liking to it. After he and his order of Dark Jedi had been ousted from power on Belsavis, he’d gone there, and stayed.

The decision to go there was entirely on Theren’s whim; based on a number of factors, and the knowledge that Moraei was likely still alive, the Commodore had decided that it was most likely in the dead system.

Theren’s fleet group had moved into the system swiftly, bearing down on the small moon where Karrix made his solitary residence. When they landed, they found the man a shadow of his former self; he’d been driven deeper into his madness by his fall from grace – and, unfortunately, deeper into his own powers. Seven soldiers had died on his whim, upon meeting him; Karrix had explained his action by stating that they’d been unworthy to gaze upon him.

Once all was safe, Theren had met him.

“I understand that you were once the ruler of Belsavis,” Theren had said. “I am part of the Galactic Empire; we, too, are interested in the world, and in all of the Senex sector.”

Karrix had looked all about him, as if distracted by flies that no one but he could see. Theren hid his annoyance. “Yes, yes, of course you are. Aren’t we all? It is a gem, the Senex sector, unspoiled as of yet by the filth of you and your like.”

“Yes… indeed. It is. But out intelligence agents show that, at this point, taking the world would be more trouble than its worth; the xenophobic citizens would riot.” Theren had finally locked gazes with Karrix, trying to hold what seemed to be his fleeting attention. “As you know, the Empire has never been able to penetrate this sector. We haven’t even attempted it, because there’s been no reason to think we’d succeed. So there’s no precedent – except for the one you’ve set. That’s why we need your help.”

“Oh, you haven’t, hmm?”

“Haven’t what?”

“Never mind.” Karrix had looked out one of the windows of his home. The moon was atmospheric, but possessed not a single living organism, aside from Karrix; large fissures released oxygen from an unknown source deep within the asteroid. “And then, after Belsavis and whatever else it is you want is yours, you plan to do what with me? What, hmm? Or have you even thought that far? I see my welfare is not your concern, but it is mine.”

“What is it that you want, then? Money? Power?”

Karrix had smiled. “I want, only what all men want.”

Tornel strode over to Theren, quietly whispering, “So what did our esteemed Jedi Master ask for, back on Moraei?”

“Women.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Theren looked around the bridge. “And we’re going to give them to him. Crazy old son of a bitch did what we asked, didn’t he?”

And he certainly had. For two days, he’d broadcasted messages to Belsavis according to what he was told, seeming to take perverse glee in what he was saying. Despite his usefulness, Theren distained the man; his insanity had left him out of control, doing everything he did upon a whim.

“Well, the first thing we should ask,” Theren had said shortly after the insane Dark Jedi had agreed to help them, “Is who should we have him support?”

“Support?” Tornel had replied.

“Yeah, support. I thought you’d have guessed what we’re going to use Karrix for. We’re going to have him lend visible support to either Vandron or Elegin, and do so as if he were a member of that household.”

“That’ll stir them up.”

“Exactly. So, we have the two houses, Elegin and Vandron. Elegin rules Belsavis, and we already have Vandron shitting a brick over Elegin being in Ti’agal, and proclaiming themselves masters of Senex. If we have Karrix support Vandron, they’ll appear even more the villain – but that’ll only contribute to nationalism on Belsavis, and we don’t need that.”

“But if we have him support Elegin, the Belsavians’ esteem for their rulers will sink considerably.”

“Right. And with Vandron already angry at Elegin, we can count on them considering this a fair time to strike on Belsavis – what with the rising anger towards Elegin. Which will make them appear the aggressor.”

“Yeah. So we have our decision.”

And so, Karrix had leant his unwanted support to Elegin for two days. Finally, after forty-eight hours of constantly broadcasting to Belsavis – the transmissions eagerly snapped up by news services on the world – intelligence reported considerable civil unrest. And, more importantly, Vandron vessels inbound for Belsavis and Elegin ships rushing to defend.

The battle had only been in progress for an hour when the Imperial craft arrived in the system. On Theren’s order, they were already pushing their engines for the planet of Belsavis, blazing ahead with threatening speed that set an obvious tone of violence to come. Tornel still stood beside Theren. “Women?”

“Women.”

They continued to bear down on the world, the whine of ion engines filling the bridge of the Zenith. Soon, the world and the vessels fighting above it were in visual range, and the full scope of the violence was apparent. Two fleet lines were obvious. Most of the vessels were the size of Dreadnaughts or smaller; about a third of them were Dreadnaughts. Other ships comprised Marauder Corvettes, Corellian Corvettes, and other small capital craft; inexpensive enough to be bought by private enterprise and readily available throughout the galaxy. The fleets were evenly matched, and each was composed of about sixteen vessels.

The Imperial craft numbered one Reign-class Imperial Star Destroyer, two Imperial Star Destroyers, and a host of smaller capital vessels and support craft. In short, even if Theren were a complete idiot, he could count on a rather simplistic victory. “Deploy fighters,” he said, “And order them to move to engage. Lay down covering fire at the ships for them; don’t discriminate, just fire.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Open a channel, and make sure its open enough that it will be intercepted by the planetary news agencies,” Theren added.

“What are you going to say?”

“Only what a true peacekeeping force would say.” Theren chuckled. “Attention, House Elegin and House Vandron forces. This is Commodore Theren Gevel of the Galactic Empire. We are here to keep the peace and stop this petty infighting. You will cease and desist your hostilities immediately, and prepare to be boarded, or you will be destroyed.”

Immediately, hails began to pour in, apparent by the variety of sounds emanating from the communications station. “Filter them,” Theren said, before the officer could ask him for a course of action. “Put through the one from the highest ranking member of the Vandron fleet. Order the two Star Destroyers to flank the two fleets, one behind each. Move the Zenith forwards. And prepare to transmit the hail we’re receiving to the planet on my signal; I’m going to bait him.”

The holographic model of an admiral of some sort appeared before Theren, looking supremely frustrated. “Who the hell are you, and why the hell are you here?”

“Commodore Theren Gevel, at your service. Your forces are squabbling; I am here to stop them. Your assault on Belsavis will not be permitted by the Galactic Empire.”

“Excuse me?” The little blue admiral asked. “You cannot be here. The Senex sector doesn’t want outsiders. Leave!”

“The Senex sector, sir, has not been offered a choice as to whether it may receive our influence or not. Your illegitimate government will not be permitted to carry on your actions here, and that is the end of it.”

The man fumed. “God damn it. I’ll –” Theren pointed at the communications officer, signaling him to transmit to the surface of Belsavis. “—level the planet, burn it straight to the ground before you can even touch it! You –” Finally, the man stopped. “You’re – transmitting this!?”

“Cut transmission, cut hail.” Theren said. “Full acceleration. Are those Star Destroyers in position?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Full power to the engines, and head for the gap between the two fleets. As we reach it, have those Star Destroyers open fire. Bombard the Vandron line as we pass. Have all smaller craft gain an elevation advantage and fire on the Elegin fleet.” Space began to rush by Theren outside the viewport of the Zenith, the ship blazing down towards the line they’d be running – a line filled with laserfire. The maneuver was dangerous, but distracting enough to allow the Star Destroyers to do their work.

The Zenith reached the open mouth of the dangerous canal which they would be streaking down, and opened fire on the Vandron forces as per Theren’s order. The powerful bombardment of the Reign-Class Star Destroyer did considerable damage to that front line as it blazed past, and several small craft erupted in flames as they did so. The blue shields of the Zenith lit up under the fiery assault of the enemy vessels, both groups firing on them – but also suitably distracted from the flanking forces, as Theren had planned.

Far behind the front lines of their forces, both Vandron and Elegin ships began to explode, a blazing cacophony of death which made the ships one either side of the Zenith but silhouettes on the illumination of the demise of their comrades. Finally, the vessel emerged from the line of combat, relatively unscathed as far as Theren could see. “Shields?”

“Sixty-nine percent, sir.”

“Good. What’s the status of those fighters?”

“They’ve destroyed around fifty enemy fightercraft, sir, at minimal loss to their own. The surprise of the attack and the fact that the enemy craft were already occupied allowed them to be easily taken.”

“Excellent. Have those in the vicinity of the Vandron craft issue as many torpedos at that lead craft as possible – the craft that sent us the hail. Designate it KING-1 and forward the targeting data we gained on the pass to all fighters.”

“Yes, sir.”

In the distance, explosions played across the great blue sphere of energy shielding around the Vandron flagship, a Dreadnaught. “Make a pass on the port side of the Vandron ships, and have the Star Destroyer that has been targeting them move forward under the line of combat and engage the Elegin craft head on.”

All across the viewports of the Zenith’s bridge, and on the sensors, the orange glow of burning ships began to cast its macabre radiance. And Theren smiled.

This was always the easy part.



The Carrack Cruisers set down in the capital rift-city of Bot-Un, having fought their way past the defenses which guarded the relatively small landing holes in the domes. The great rift-cities of Belsavis were set within the damp rifts in the planet’s surface, heated and powered by the steam that flowed up from deep within the volcanic world. Belsavis itself was a desolate, lifeless planet that alternated between unbearable heat and ice cold temperatures. Within these cities, covered by anti-grav-supported light amplification domes, however, the climate was perfect – neither hot nor cold.

The soldiers rushed from their vessels, a swarm of Imperial precision which filled the streets and immediately began to open fire on the resistance it met. House Elegin had not yet issued their surrender of Belsavis, though the battle over the planet was wholly over and both the invaders and defenders sent packing, and so, the soldiers fought on. The numbers they faced overwhelmed, the sheer volume of accurate fire devastating them.

Stormtroopers, Theren reflected, were truly awe-inspiring.

The Commodore stood in the landing bay of one of the Carracks, now operating as a troop control center, directing the flood of white-armored troopers. “They’re approaching the House Elegin capitol building now, sir.”

“Good. Prepare to –”

Tornel rushed up to Theren and the commanding soldier, out of breath. “Sir! We’ve received the surrender from House Elegin.”

Even from the vantage point of the thirtieth-story building of the former House Elegin headquarters, the celebration below was very apparent to Theren. Multicolored streamers streaked over the crowd of people, who screamed and shouted their thanks to the great, glorious Empire. Besides finally being free from the ‘oppressive’ grip of a regime supposedly supported by Karrix Moraei, there was another source of their glee. On a screen attached to a skyscraper building, a single, masked figure stood, grasping his throat as a green mist surrounded him. Finally, the man collapsed, dead; the words below the gruesome picture read “Empire executes Karrix Moraei wanted war criminal of House Elegin”.

At that very moment, Karrix Moraei stepped through the door of Theren’s new office without invitation or knock. “Ah,” Theren said, “The man of the hour, himself. How do you feel?”

“I feel as well as a man who has just died might feel. Your strange poison gas feels as if it put me to sleep by taking a rather large, blunt object to my head. Perhaps it did! I know not.” He chuckled, a gesture Theren couldn’t share.

“Well, you did agree to do it.”

“Indeed. Your secretary requested that I give you these two datapads; letters from the Lords of Houses Vandron and Elegin, most likely of complaint. And this one, from Imperial command.”

“Karrix,” Theren said slowly, “I don’t have a secretary. Might you have been speaking to my military aide, Tornel?”

“Perhaps.”

Theren took a brief glance at the two notes, and, seeing that the insane Dark Jedi was correct, threw them onto his desk for inspection later. “Perhaps I should be thanking them. After all, I owe them this victory. In a way, I owe three different lords the credit for our victory; those two, and you, a Lord of the Jedi.”

“Indeed. I see my ‘death’ has made you a regular hero. Perhaps I should fake my own death a few more times? It is profitable indeed.”

“Yeah. Give them blood and they’ll love you for it, eh?” Finally, Theren picked up the datapad from Imperial command, pressing the activation key and reading over the message contained within. “It’s a note from Vikar, congratulating me on my unprecedented victory. No one in Imperial Command expected Belsavis to accept occupation by an outside source so wholeheartedly.”

“I can see why not! The Empire has not had the greatest string of luck with regards to the Senex sector, have they? Certainly not.”

Theren blinked. “What?”

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t know that!” Karrix exclaimed gleefully, clearly taking pleasure in what he had to tell Theren. “Didn’t find anything in your Imperial textbooks about the two failed occupation attempts in Senex? 26 and 13 BBY? Hmm? I wouldn’t think so. The Empire doesn’t publish its failures.”

Theren blinked again, then stared at the insane Dark Jedi Master.

“Beyond that, I have decided to once again take my leave for Moraei. The Belsavian women you provided shall be quite excellent… company. Yes, excellent company indeed.”

Theren said nothing as the repugnant man exited his office. The man in the black suit at the Imperial library; that’s what he’d been talking about. Two failed occupations of Senex. Two failures of the Empire that were never published, never made public knowledge. How they could’ve helped him, Theren thought.

Imperial command knew it had information that could have protected him and save lives with its historical value, but withheld it. What if he’d failed?

Then he would’ve been the third failed Imperial occupation of Senex; his failure unknown, buried in Imperial archives. An anonymous commander who left and never came back, the victim of a tragic hyperspace accident or the like.

Karfeddion was next, he told himself; he had to begin planning.

But something stopped him. Something kept him staring blankly down at his desk.

What else had the Empire swept under the rug?

Lieutenant Dayvid Tornel was lost in thought, even as he walked down a hall to a meeting which could very well mark the end of his life.

When he’d asked to be assigned as Theren Gevel’s aide, he knew that the Commodore would be demanding; he was an intelligent man, with a deep sense of morality. A morality that some might find to be twisted, but a morality nonetheless. The majority of Imperial commanders had given up on their principles long ago; it was only those at the bottom, and perhaps (though he had no way of knowing how sincerely) those at the very top retained a true loyalty to the vision of the Empire. Theren Gevel had.

It was a vision of one government, one stable body that spanned the length and width of the galaxy and which embodied a pillar of justice that would bring peace to all. Where the ambiguity came was the lengths that the Galactic Empire was willing to go to discover this vision, and Theren was no exception to this. Following the incidents on Kamino – particularly the swiftness and unflinching ferocity of the initial assault – Gevel’s name had gone from obscure to known; he was on the radar of the galaxy and her politicians, for good or ill.

He believed that the ends would justify the means; he believed that the peace and outright utopia a final Imperial victory would bring was worth any cost. It was this faith that granted him his tactical and political brilliance. This faith was the cornerstone upon which his abilities were built.

And when that faith was shaken, Tornel found himself with an equally shaken commander.

Imperial forces were in the building, but discreetly out of sight. Unfortunately, the occupant of the building would know they were there, no matter how guileful their approach may have been. Karrix Moraei, eccentric, insane, egotistical though he was, was as much as Jedi as Luke Skywalker, and knew everything that happened on his little moon.

Tornel entered the room he knew Moraei would be in, finding the man half naked – thankfully clothed below the waist – with one of the women the Empire had provided him hanging off of him gleefully. The look in her eyes was blank, stupidly joyous, and Tornel knew instantly why: because she wasn’t thinking for herself, anymore. Nor had she been, likely, since the evil man she clung to had discovered that many women are repulsed by ancient, power-drunk Dark Jedi. “Mister Moraei,” Tornel greeted him, bowing his head respectfully.

Karrix smiled widely, his mask stretching easily across his hidden features. The mask blended in with his face, and was plastic enough to avoid detection, were it not for the light orange trim on the edge of the thing. He tilted his head to one side. “Why, look at what we have here, my dear! Who is it, do you think? Why, none other than one of my favorite Imperials… how do you do, Captain Thornel?”

“It’s Lieutenant Tornel, my lord, and I do quite well.”

“Yes,” Karrix replied, barring any sort of extended sentence from Tornel, “I too do quite well. Quite well indeed. Perhaps you’d like to meet Sasha? Of course you would; I’m sure you find her quite alluring, as do I. She had a name, of course, before Sasha, but I really do think that the new one I made up is lovely. Rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? Sasha, meet Captain Thornel; Captain Thornel, Sasha.”

The woman, who was scantily clad in an antique Belsavian garment that barely covered her breasts and legs, stiffly looked up and fixed Tornel with a blank stare. “Hello,” was all she said.

Tornel did his best to hide how revolted he was by the sadistic Dark Jedi Master’s control of the woman, and would never be entirely sure how convincing he was. It was likely that Karrix Moraei simply did not care. “Charmed, I’m sure.” He affixed his gaze to Moraei once again, and continued. “I need to speak to you, my lord.”

“Anything you have to say, Sasha can hear. She enjoys my full confidence.” Karrix grinned again.

Tornel tried hard to bury a grimace behind polite Imperial formality. “Of course she does. Sir, I have to know what it was you said to Commodore Gevel.”

“Only the truth, my dear man! Only the truth that that Empire of yours has been hiding from you all of this time, the hiding of which put your very lives in jeopardy!” Karrix was clearly relishing the act of concern.

“What truth would that be, my lord?”

“Are you sure you want to know? Absolutely sure, Captain Thornel?”

“Absolutely sure.”

“Come with me, then. And don’t bother alerting your men; their hearts stopped working five minutes ago.”

Tornel swallowed his rage and followed them man.

“I hear, Commodore Gevel,” the blue, holographic miniature of Vice-Admiral Vikar said, “That you are having some… doubts, about your course of action.”

“Not my course of action, Admiral,” Theren shook his head briefly. He was tired, that much was obvious; from the appearance of his eyes and his posture, Vikar estimated that he hadn’t slept in days. “Not mine. No. Yours. That of Imperial Command.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do.” Theren shook his head and began to reach for the disconnect button. He’d had enough of the Imperial run-around. “Yes you fucking do.”

“Theren, please, stop.” Vikar looked pleadingly at him. “Tell me what it is. I honestly do not know. You have my full confidence; remember who placed you in this position.”

Theren sighed, and looked directly at the man who had, in some ways, become his mentor. “In 26 BBY and then again in 13 BBY, the Empire attempted, unsuccessfully, to occupy Senex Sector worlds. No one outside of Imperial Command was ever told, and no record of it was published. You left me to rush into the Senex Sector blind, when I could’ve had a wealth of intelligence information.”

Vikar blinked. “That certainly is serious.”

“Yes.”

“I assure you, I didn’t know. No one in my office did, or you would’ve been informed. 13 BBY is a long time ago; almost no one in the current administration had risen to power, at that point. I’d say it’s entirely possible that only a handful of people, none of whom were in a position to tell you, knew.”

“I have a hard time believing that there are no records – even among those accessible to the Regent – that bear information about this. I was left out cold, Admiral, and you and I both know it.”

Vikar sighed. “Yes. I’ll look into this for you. In the meantime, I assume you are continuing with your plan of securing Karfeddion.”

“Yeah.”

“Good luck. Vikar out.

“Gevel out.”

Tornel sat down at Theren’s bidding to do so, nodding to his commanding officer in greeting. “Command is expecting a report on our progress on securing Karfeddion in a few days.”

Theren nodded his head. “Yes, they are.”

“Are we, say, going to have something to tell them?”

“Yeah.” Theren threw Tornel a datapad, smirking slightly. The younger officer thought he’d spent the last few days sulking. “I’ve had intelligence operatives we farmed out of some Belsavian discontents on Karfeddion almost since we took Belsavis. What they revealed is really very basic; the people are semi-content with Vandron rule, but very resistant to outside force. It’s a highly developed world, very much the closest thing this region of space has to a Coruscant. Most of all, it’s a slave world; it operates the slave ring for the Vandron House. As such, it’s a center of their society – since, after all, slaves are also at the center of their society.”

“Indeed.”

“Intelligence says Karfeddion holds direct dominion over about thirty outlying worlds of varying importance and population density, and heavy influence over another twenty. A variety of sparsely-populated resource systems fall into that territory.”

“It sounds like a gold mine,” Tornel said, somewhat skeptically.

“It seems that way. And it is; especially in the past few years, immigration and development on Karfeddion has taken off, skyrocketed. It’s the most important world in the Senex Sector, and whoever controls it controls most of the goings on in this region of space.”

Tornel scanned through the datapad briefly, and tossed it back onto the desk. “I spoke to Moraei.”

“I know.” Theren chuckled slightly. “So, now you know. Imperial Intelligence won’t be pleased about that, but the secret was bound to come out, eventually.” Theren’s demeanor seemed to reveal that he had become significantly less enraged over the incident. Tornel was almost inclined, for a minute, to believe that he truly had. But something in the Commodore’s eyes betrayed that the secret kept had more than shaken his faith in the Empire; it had hurt him, that others were not dedicated to the vision of a unifying power to inform him, that they were willing to jeopardize Imperial operations in such a way. “I haven’t been sitting around here on my ass for a week, Tornel. Whatever that fucking idiot of a Jedi Master told you about my uncertainty as to whether or not I should continue with my mission is true, but duty wins out in the end. Same as on Dantooine.”

“Right,” Tornel said, recalling the events of the reoccupation and decontamination of the desert world, where Theren had revealed and finished an Imperial traitor before his treason could even begin. “Dantooine.”

“Now, as I told you, our mission on Karfeddion will not be military in nature. This sector has already seen one Imperial military action, and I doubt it will endure another without being clued in as to our motive of occupation.”

“Yeah.”

“Instead, it will be political,” Theren said, and grinned widely as Tornel’s reactions varied from shock to disgust to apprehension. “Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking. But sometimes, these things are necessary. I assure you, this will be entirely successful.”

Tornel said nothing.

“Karfeddion has some semblance of democracy, found in the form of their federal government, which is almost reverse-republican in its nature. Basically, the people are allowed to vote on their planetary governor – who in turn appoints all other members of the government, including but not limited to regional governors, senate members, municipal officials, and others. Essentially, it’s an elected dictatorship, since the aristocrats have enough money and influence to inevitably buy their candidate – and not the one favored by the lower classes, into power.”

“Right.”

“So, our first step is to change that. The number of slaves on Karfeddion is almost three-quarters of the number of normal citizens.”

“So we just give them the right to vote.”

“Exactly.”

Tornel shifted in his seat. “Sir, I don’t really know if I want to be the one to break this to you, but there may be a few members of the government opposed to that.”

“No shit. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Tornel.” Theren shook his head. “Yes, they well be opposed to it, but they won’t know that when we propose it to them. The operatives on Karfeddion got us one very important piece of information, which I asked for specifically; readouts on all of the leading senate members and officials. The elections are, rather conveniently, in exactly one month. I’ve been going over them for the past twelve hours, and I think I’ve got our candidate.”

“And who is that?”

“Teenan Poel. He’s been a senate member for five years – long enough to be respected, but without too many enemies. He has introduced several widely lauded bills, and is well-known enough to become the sort of icon we need. Most of all, he has a history of taking money under the table from corporations and slave cartels, which means he’ll be pliable to our demands.”

Tornel shifted again. This sounded to him like a plan that relied very much on fallible elements; military force, on the other hand, rarely failed, especially under the guidance of a capable commander. “Sir, regardless of how ‘pliable’ he may be, I doubt we can control him with money. Taking bribes from slave cartels is one thing; taking bribes from a despised outside force is another. How are we going to get him under our control?”

“The answer to that goes hand in hand with how we’re going to enact a bill giving slaves the right to vote.”

“And that is?”

“Karrix Moraei.”

Tornel buried his head in his hands. Theren only smiled wider.



“So you can do this, I presume,” Theren said, pretending to be unbothered by the almost-overpowering odor of perfume emitted by what seemed to be Karrix’s favorite female slave, Sasha. Tornel had requested that he be allowed to stay out of the meeting, and now, the Commodore saw why; she clung to him like stupidity clung to New Republic admirals, and it was truly revolting. They could delude themselves into thinking that they hadn’t sold him the women as sex slaves, but in truth, it was obvious that they’d done something much worse than that.

“Do it? Can I do it? Can a Minock scream? Of course I can do it. The great Karrix Moraei can move mountains with his mind, destroy stars with speech. Isn’t that right, my sweet?” He gently lifted Sasha’s head with a finger to her chin.

“Of course, my master.”

“Isn’t she a dear, Theren?” Karrix addressed the Imperial officer like an old friend, something which revolted him beyond comprehension. That he’d sunk so low in his associations was immensely disturbing to him.

“Yes, of course. Now, you’ll also be able to convince the senate?”

“Did I not just already say that? Yes, I think I did. I am almost sure I did. My memory is very good, for my age, Theren. The words of our puppet will wash over their ears and it will be the Siren’s song, to them; they will fall to it as if they are hypnotized, and their own opinions shall be as nothing.”

Karrix, Theren reflected, was evidently excellent at making the opinions of others as nothing. “Excellent. How many times can you do this?”

Karrix seemed to choke on the answer to that question. Theren repeated it when the Dark Jedi Master did not speak for a moment more. “There are limits even to a Jedi Master’s power, though the limits to mine are few and far between.”

“And that means?”

“I shall be able to do it for you no more or less than once. After that, they will hear the cry of the Siren, and cover their ears.”

Theren raised an eyebrow. “You mean they’ll start to know the feeling of being influenced by you?”

“More or less.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. The Empire thanks you kindly for your service; you will be rewarded once again, I assure you.”

The perverse man looked down at his whore, smiling wickedly and stroking her cheek. “Oh, my friend, you have given me more than I ever could have hoped for. Sasha is everything I ever could have hoped for; it is as if I am young once again. You have my gratitude. Doesn’t he, Sasha? Yes, of course he does. Theren Gevel is an excellent friend, as you will see when you come to know him better.”

Theren nodded his thanks. And swallowed a welling lump in his throat that surfaced every time he looked at the woman. It was, as he told himself frequently, all for the glory of the Empire.



They’d set up a listening post in a system directly outside of Karfeddion; a barren, nameless, anonymous system that anyone who had once entertained notions of settling had long since abandoned. Which left it as a perfect base of operations for the Empire.

The first step, as Theren had laid before Tornel and later, a small cabinet of high-ranking captains in his detachment, was fairly clear; gain control of Teenan Poel. “Select two men from the highest ranks in your most elite cadre of special forces units. Not Stormtroopers,” he’d added.

“Why not?” One of the captains had asked curiously, almost amused by the notion but not angered by it.

“Stormtroopers, as we saw on Belsavis, are excellent for mass-assaults; they’re terror-inspiring, fearless, and precise. But for this, we will need creativity that only… naturally-bred humans can provide. This will not be an assault.”

And so, they had boarded a stripped-down Sentinel-class shuttle, and set off for the Keneeff system, another group of planets relative east of Karfeddion. It was populated moderately, and as such, not regulated as closely as the space around Karfeddion was; a vessel coming out of hyperspace from a trajectory leading to an abandoned system might arouse some altogether unwanted suspcision.

Now, they slid slowly inbound toward Karfeddion, anonymous among the variety of other craft in the customs line. It occurred to Theren, as he stared out the viewport, that a good number of the ships around him were low-class, inexpensive starships without a great number of frills – or, for that matter, necessities. These ships, the poor man’s equivalent of a civilian craft in any other part of the galaxy (excepting perhaps the isolated and impoverished Tion Hegemony), were interspaced by grandiose, extravagant space-yachts that dwarfed even the personal transport vessels of many Imperial bureaucrats.

Customs hailed the landing shuttle, denoted by a beeping originating from the command panel. Theren, who sat behind the ship’s captains, offered to deal with it. The ship had a pre-arranged moniker and registration number, all generated to match the transponder code. “This is Captain Vanshar of the courier vessel Marionette.” The ironic title had been suggested in jest by Tornel, who was still disdainful of their continued work with Karrix Moraei. “We’re just looking to land for a few days at Melekart, fuck around a little,” he added gruffly.

“Anything aboard your ship we should know about?”

“Not a god damn thing.”

A moment of silence. Then, “Alright, you’re verified. You can land at spaceport X1V5 in Melekart.”

Theren smiled at the pilots. “See? Easy.”

They just nodded, apparently unenthused about making conversation with their commanding officer. Recalling the overbearing and pompous Commodore Shiel, whom he’d stopped at Dantooine, and understanding that most of these men had had similar experiences, Theren empathized.

“Bring us down.”

They’d asked him not to take point. They’d ordered him not to take point. As such, Theren had decided to take point.

The group of soldiers stalked down the hallway of the building. They’d landed in Malakart, commandeered a speeder and driven to the home of Teenan Poel. Gaining entrance through the skill of an Imperial lockbreaker, they were now treated to the exquisite architecture of Poel’s home. Evidently, taking payola from big corporations and rich slave cartels had paid off, for the politician; he now lived in the lap of luxury, his deep-green painted home filled with Kashyyykan wood, the finest volcanic metals from Belsavis, and Corusca and Adegan gems adorning half of the surfaces. Evidently, for a society which despised outside influence, the upper-class was not squeamish about taking the finest goods from those outside influences.

They reached a flight of stairs, and took it up to the next floor, moving as quietly as possible. For Theren – who was untrained in this sort of thing – it was nerve-wracking. One misstep and everyone died.

They made their way down the upper hallway, until they came to a door which was half-closed. From the floor plan that they’d analyzed, this was Teenan Poel’s study. While Theren continued to point his blaster straight ahead, one of the men slowly, inch-by-inch, pushed the door open, without making a sound. The team rushed into the office, of sorts, guns pointed ahead, ready to fire on a second’s notice.

They found Poel sitting at a Kashyyyk-wood desk, idly browsing through a holonet terminal. “Don’t fucking move!” Theren shouted at him, blaster pistol trained on his head. “Hands above your head, now! Not a god damn movement we don’t tell you to!” Above the desk, Poel’s hands reached for his head – below, Theren observed, his foot felt about, looking for something. He fired one shot at the foot of the desk, and immediately, Poel’s foot shot back to where it belonged. “That includes reaching for the silent alarm. Now get up, slowly. Good. Come out around the desk, and lie, face down.”



Karrix Moraei had been conveniently left outside as they’d entered Poel’s house. Theren couldn’t trust the Dark Jedi Master not to burn the place down on a whim, especially while encountering hostiles. Now, however, he’d been led inside, to the bedroom where they’d tied Poel to a chair.

“Karrix,” Theren said. “Meet Teenan Poel.” The politician looked bitterly up at Theren. His mouth was gagged, though had it not been, the Commodore had no doubt what sort of words would be flowing out of it. “You’ll be working together very closely for the next few weeks.”

“Indeed,” Karrix said, the lips of his mask widening in a smile as he stared down, wild-eyed, at Poel. This, Theren observed, would put the fear of god into the politician, even if being kidnapped in his own home had not. “Hello, Mr. Poel. I am sure we will get along nicely – aren’t you?” The man grunted something obscene from behind the gag. “See? He likes me already.”

Theren blinked and nodded dumbly. “Yes, well, whatever. We’ll be proposing the bill in the Senate in three days, Karrix, and then the senate ends session for the election. We’ll be announcing his campaign for presidency the day after that.”

“I will need some time to… get to know our new friend better,” Karrix said, continuing to smile sadistically down at Teenan Poel.

“Yeah.” Theren headed for the door. “Take your time.”

He left, and shut the door behind him. And pretended he couldn’t hear Poel’s screams.

Whatever Karrix Moraei was doing to him, Theren had no desire to know.



The senate chamber was modeled after the one of the Old Republic; it was a grand, spherical forum with many balconies. On one of them, Teenan Poel stood proudly, observing the goings-on in the rest of the place, giving no hint of the ordeal that had transpired three days earlier. Behind the balcony, Theren Gevel, Dayvid Tornel, and Karrix Moraei sat, sweating.

Karrix, especially.

The control he exerted over Poel was obviously easily done; the man was weak-minded, and had been little more than a puppet of the president, the leader of the Vandro party, for many years. In a way, his control by Karrix had been little more than the puppet’s controls changing hands.

The president of Karfeddion was, himself, more of less a tool of the Lords of House Vandron. Any motion had to be approved by them; any motion suggested by them had to be enacted. Not by law, of course, but the president knew the price of not doing so. And it was impossible to be elected without being a member of House Vandron; the aristocratic Vandron elite would vote for no one else.

The pseudo-democracy had been put into place only a few years earlier as a way of dealing with a rising amount of civil unrest, particularly among the middle-class of Karfeddion, who felt neglected and controlled. Which, of course, they were. And Theren really cared less than a whit for any of them, but his own idea for controlling them was much the same; allow them a semblance of autonomy, a shade of democracy. The catch being, they were only allowed to make decisions he agreed with.

Lost in his reverie, Theren had not noticed the beginning of the speech. For all his easy control over Poel, the difficulty of controlling him and adding the weight of the Force to his words was clearly a difficult task, but one Karrix was accomplishing. “As such, I hereby propose that was enact Motion 6369B, stating that all slaves are given the right to vote in presidential elections. This…” The speech, which Theren had written, wasn’t worth listening to. A few cries rose up as those words were read, but they quickly died down.

Even Theren could feel the tug of those words, the correctness, the absolute moral right of what Teenan Poel was saying. Poel was obviously a brilliant man to have foreseen such a thing, an independent thinker years ahead of –

Theren snapped himself out of it. He took a look over the crowd, inching forward and almost onto the balcony. He could barely, in the large chamber, make out the enraptured faces of the other senators. It was working.

Finally, the speech was over, and Karrix exhaled deeply, his breathing quickened by the exercise. The vote was taken, and tallied; 268 for, 22 against. As Karrix later put it, “In three hundred men, there were twenty-two who were not weak-minded.”

Even Tornel, who, standing next to Theren, could not help but be impressed, nodded his thanks to Karrix as they quietly slipped out the door behind the balcony, with Poel following to cheers and a few angry shouts.



“And, as such, I do declare that I will seek the Presidency of Karfeddion.”

Theren and Tornel sat, in Teenan Poel’s house, watching the address. It was brilliantly written, brilliantly conceived. “We’re sure to get every last vote from the slaves,” Tornel said.

“And many from the more-liberal middle class.”

“You think that that will amount for at least half of the vote?” Tornel asked. “The slaves give us three-quarters of the votes we need. I’m not sure if the liberal middle-class accounts for another quarter.”

“Me neither, but I have one way to be sure.”

“If elected, I will continue to seek the democratic rights of all slaves—” Theren shut Teenan Poel’s address off, changing the holonet channel. He found the address of some of the local news stations. On the holoprojection were scenes of riots; fighting in the streets; fires being started by unruly mobs.

“Civil unrest is at an all-time high.” Theren chuckled. “The aristocrats are angry that the senate has closed and the bill cannot be revoked until after the election. So they pay these people to start riots, who are fought by the slaves and few liberals.”

“And?”

“And lost in this mess, do you think they’ll notice the slaves, on election night, forcing others to vote for Teenan Poel?”

Tornel shook his head.

“I’ve already sent out runners to prominent houses of slaves. They’re being told to rise up against their masters if necessary to vote; and to force others to vote for Poel. Election night, Tornel, is going to be chaos, absolute anarchy. And we, are going to be the solution.”

“What about House Vandron? How do we keep them out of this? They’ve been comfortable with their dictatorship over Karfeddion for years. You don’t think they’ll notice all this and move to stop it?”

Theren shrugged. “The election is in a few days. I doubt they’ll have time to mobilize anything after how we thrashed them at Belsavis. And if they do, we’ll thrash them again.”

Tornel nodded. That was the sort of thinking he approved of.

It was election night. Outside the windows of Teenan Poel’s stately home, sirens blared, the lights of police speeders flashed, and fires burned. The election was turning into a riot, and the riot was turning into a war.

Just as Theren had hoped it would.

On the holonet, news of more and more riots sprung up across the screen, with the service switching rapidly between them, unable to keep pace. And another surprising thing was happening; the slaves were winning. With 61% of the vote, newcomer Teenan Poel led the way, outclassing his Vandro-Party opponent by a wide margin.

Tornel, Karrix, and Theren sat in silence, in a room with the lights off, so that they could make out the goings-on outside the window. The dark figures below, fighting in the street, were difficult to make out; it could be police clashing with slaves, or slaves forcing citizens to vote for Teenan Poel, or a million other such conflicts. Theren didn’t really care. In the distance, five or six kilometers away, Coruscant-like towers stretched towards the sky, and on some, fires burned.

Karrix had insisted on spending all his time with them, and on having Sasha (who he somehow controlled from a distance) ferried down to Karfeddion to watch the madness. Thankfully for Theren and Tornel, she was in another room – out of sight, out of mind.

“These riots have gotten out of hand,” Tornel observed. “The police can’t quell them.”

“No, they can’t,” Theren said, smirking. “They’re fucked, either way. Even if we lost the election – which we won’t – all we would need to do to be welcomed with open arms is stop the riots. Perhaps it isn’t as simple as that, but…” He trailed off and shrugged. “The aristocrats will be impressed with us, because we will quell the uprising with military force. The middle-class because we will allow them the autonomy of a miniature republic under our direction. The slaves because we will let them vote.”

Tornel nodded.

Karrix, on the other hand, didn’t say anything. He just watched the carnage outside with a gleeful smile on his mask.



When Teenan Poel won, it was a surprise to no one. What he said in his inauguration speech, delivered from the balcony of his home to the audience outside (to allow Karrix to work in a comfortable environment), was a surprise to everyone.

“I want our fleet in the system, as soon a possible,” Theren said. “And I want Imperial troops on the ground the minute they arrive. Stormtroopers. Unload the Zenith if you have to; I want this planet securely under our rule. I want there to be no doubt who is the ruler of Karfeddion.” Tornel nodded, and began to relay the orders through his datapad; Theren waited for his cue.

“Riots still rage, and fires still burn from the violent uprising against the unjust government which once commanded this world,” the speech went. “And while that uprising was just, it is now time to return to the life that we once knew; to return to tradition, to the ways of Karfeddion. Yet our police are not enough; our military has been weakened by recent events at Belsavis. There is only one solution that I see, only one solution that will allow all the people of Karfeddion to enjoy the quality of life they have become accustomed to. I am declaring a union with the Imperial rulers of Belsavis, to form the Senex Confederacy, a stable, unified government which will bring peace and democracy to all of the region. Without further ado, I introduce Theren Gevel, the leader of the Senex Confederacy.”

Theren walked out onto the balcony, meeting eyes with the brain-dead Teenan Poel for only a minute, trying to avoid the knowledge of what Karrix Moraei was doing to him. “Citizens of Karfeddion, citizens of the Senex Confederacy!” Theren greeted them. “By the request of Teenan Poel, I have come to Karfeddion to oversee the creation of the Senex Confederacy. With the power and might of the Empire, we will quell the riots, put out the fires, and rebuild the damage done by this turn of events. Your own military, has been damaged beyond repair by the events at Belavis, and will not be enough for this task; only the stability of the Empire can return Karfeddion to peace.” Theren began to explain the details of the Senex Confederacy, acutely aware that, at this point, some viewers would stop watching in disgust. It didn’t matter. The military had been disarmed and ordered to stand down, as Teenan Poel’s first order of business as President. The Imperial forces would land on Karfeddion and occupy it under the pretense of restoring peace and order. Resistors would be quelled, as would their fealty to House Vandron. In the end, the autonomy offered by the Senex Confederacy would be the thing which kept them from revolting; in time, they would grow accustomed to Imperial rule. Theren knew all this instinctively, for it was what history had determined would happen; what had happened on a thousand other worlds.

The Senex Confederacy would be a republic, he announced. It would feature four elected levels of government; municipal, regional, planetary, and interplanetary, based on Karfeddion. First to be implemented would be municipal; then planetary, and planetary rulers would be permitted to divide their planet into regions. The interplanetary government would be set up simultaneously, allowing all citizens to vote for a president once every five years. The Imperial military would serve as the police force for the interplanetary and planetary governments; other than that, municipal and regional governments were free to have their own police. All worlds under Karfeddion or Belsavian rule would be invited (or forced) to join the Confederacy, and would fall under the jurisdiction of the interplanetary government.

Finally, and most importantly, Theren Gevel would remain the Governor-General of the Senex Confederacy, the representative of the Empire in the Senex Sector. In the end, it came down to him.

In two days, there was an Imperial Stormtrooper on every corner of every block on Karfeddion, and none dared question the will of the Empire. And three days after that, Teenan Poel died of unknown causes.