Kween - OverSector Outer
System Periphery


“ Another journey’s end. Here’s to the Emperor’s Grace that there be many more.” A glass lifted in toast to his Benevolent Imperial Majesty the Emperor Daemon Hyfe clinked with three more, sloshing amber fluid from glass to glass. Amid a huzzah from the crewmembers on the bridge, the four senior officers of the Imperial Military Transport Jarimin XIII celebrated the first circumnavigation of the Empire since the last Coalition War. The affair had been quite the propaganda tool to show the citizens of the Empire that all was well; the commencement of hostilities between the Dragons and the Coalition had shifted everyone’s focus and suddenly, the HoloNet had forgotten the Jarimin.


“ You are all far too patriotic for a transport. Each and everyone of you needs to go sign up for the Guard.”


The captain, a large-framed Teyr-native, slapped the nay-saying navigator on the back. “ Why Alecks, are you trying to douse our spirit? Are you going Rebel on us? Here - have some.”


“ Not at all - just trying to make sure you haven’t all gone mad. Now, when have you known me not to drink?”


Cheers erupted from the other officers as Lieutenant Alecks Ward downed an entire glass of champagne in one practiced gulp. From bulkhead to bulkhead aboard the two-thousand meter fuel-tanker crewmembers rejoiced. To a man they were proud of their accomplishment but feelings of pride battled for place at the van with the longing to embrace loved ones abandoned for the glory of the Empire.


“ Kween Control to Jarimin XIII, your transponder codes have been accepted. You may clear the perimeter. Pilot GGX-9 will guide you to your berth.”


The Captain overheard the routine transmission from a doubtless-overworked orbital traffic controller and parted company with his celebrating officers. He exhaled sharply, sighing relief for everyman under his command. He closed his eyes and thought back to the sandy beaches of Teyr, to the wife and child that were sprawled under twin suns, to the home he had built before joining the Imperial Navy.


“ Sir, the pilot is alongside. Permission to slave controls to the tug?”


“ Granted, Ensign.”


Slave rigging circuits joined together between giant and dwarf, guided by the steady hands of a blue-colored droid. The two fused as one and in only minutes the large transport began to snake its way past a network of defenses and relay satellites.


Without warning, the Jarimin XIII juked to port, throwing a good many unprepared crewmembers from where they were standing. Inertial dampeners compensated but not before pride was damaged from stem to stern. “ Ensign, what the hell is that pilot trying to do? This isn’t a cruiser…”


The Captain closed his mouth, trapping his words as all breath left him. From under the bulk of the Jarimin streaked a red lozenge-shaped tube that was easily the side of a gunship. Behind it trailed a column of smoke belched from a fire-choked maw at the tube’s aft end. On came another, then another, then another. Alarms sounded on the bridge, daring the pierce the eerie silence that dominated. More torpedo-looking projectiles lanced into Kween from a dozen different trajectories. For a long moment, every eye above Kween watched in horrified awe the coming of a war no one knew had started.


Though smoke obscured the view from the Jarimin, explosions registered on sensors both active and passive. Tiger-class Monitors, small hundred-meter platforms that drifted lazily above their charge, exploded in a display of brilliant violence. The bulk of the Seydlitz-class Heavy Cruiser Archite took three torpedoes to its armored carapace and split in three pieces before it was completely encased in flame. Fire danced across the bulbous Star of the Night, a grand orbital dock that was the berth of all Imperial traffic in and out of OverSector Outer.


“ Sen…sen…senors!” the Captain stammered. “ Where are those coming from?”


“ Ships of an unknown classification. They’re about six hundred meters long with a pipe-like construct on the ventral surface. I’m reading twelve of them. Sir, there’s an entire flotilla of ships out there and none of the IFF’s read friendly.”


All the crew of the Jarimin could do was pray as light ships and fighters moved into the system and picked off what Imperial defenses remained.

SSD Midas
Deep Space

The Committee buzzed with its usual conversation of business dealings and underworld talk like always before the Chairman called the gathering of the largest influence on the galaxy's darker sides into session. Rico Belgardi and Edipus Tagge were busy as usual arguing with eachother over the price fixing the two companies often did to try to out do the other. Unity amongst the Union member groups was only within the shadows, competition in the visible side of things was encouraged heavily to avoid drawing suspicious gazes from anyone looking close enough to notice odd activities. It all worked in the end, the governments of the galaxy were too busy fighting eachother to even look at the underworld of the galaxy much and even when they did all they saw were the masks the Union hid behind so well.

It had been a while since every member of the Union had actually been to a Committee meeting since attendance was really compulsory, but considered necessary at times. The only time the whole Committee met was during session for very serious subjects such as the one involving OverSector Outer, the Empire's useless attempt at trying to reign in crime in Hutt space of all places. The Union sneered at that, every member of it, because you could never really crush crime, not when there was a full scale free galactic economy the Empire itself tried to maintain. So there was always going to be problems, meaning the Union would always have a hand in matters. So now it was no surprise that the chamber grew quiet as the doorway at the far end slid open and a man dressed in a white, uniform-like suit entered and sat down at the table. The Directors all remained silent as they regared the Chairman of the Union, Estro Sabrino. He was the one person they were all absolutely terrified of; the man behind the Union who controlled its actions, directing the Committee and its puppet organizations.

"Gentlemen and ladies, I'd like to thank you all for arriving as I asked. As you are all aware, we have gathered to discuss the increasingly distressing issues occuring within OverSector Outer. Who here would like to share their reports on the situation?"

Jarek Tho, a recent addition to the Union stood up, coughing some to get the Committee's attention.

"Ah, Mr. Tho, please share with us," Estro said with a cold smile.

"Recent incidents, combined with certain jobs we have been taking recently from 'him' have indicated that he is about to make a move. We've even been running weapons components to him, which has been very profitable since the Imperials tend to be looking for drugs rather than equipment most of the time nowadays in Hutt space."

Several other representatives from the more criminal elements of the Union smirked at that, all well aware of the Empire's own arrogance at times that they all heavily exploited to bypass certain customs procedures. It was good money for the Union as well as for them. In the end one phrase was often jokingly muttered amongst Union members. The Empire was good for business.

"So, I can see from others that we have all been noticing this increase in criminal activity focused on a specific individual. Any suggestions of how we, as a whole, shall be dealing with this?"

"We should capitalize on it, offer help to him. It will allow us to carry out our own schemes and avoid notice from the Empire, perhaps act as his eyes and ears when he starts to make a stand against the Empire," Plurga the Hutt rumbled from the end of the table, his words translated by a silver 3PO droid next to him.

"Does anyone share this idea?" Estro asked curiously as he looked around the Committee.

A number of hands were raised in agreement and the Chairman just smiled.

"Very well then, we will gave aid to him, use him as an unknowing puppet in our own machinations and perhaps reclaim Hutt space for the criminal elemtns who have always ruled over them."

Plurga gave a deep, vicious laugh and several other crime bosses smiled coldly while other Union members, the business types especially, looked uneasy and queasy over the fact that the Union was about to plunge into a dirty, ugly conflict.

"Omega Thrax will be dispatched immediately to make contact with our wayward soon to be warlord. This meeting is over."

Estro Sabrino stood and left as quietly as he had come and the Committee members all stood and began to leave, getting ready to make their ways back to their normal bases of operation throughout the galaxy as the Union prepared to mobilize its resources.

Florioan - OverSector Outer
Imperial Fleet Supply Depot


The space around Florioan was alive.


Alive. Typically an attribute given to something biological, capable of movement or feeling or sentience. Something...organic. So how could space be alive? Was it not just a void, the very apex of lifelessness itself? Commander Fillustri said no. The void around his ship, the Fire-class Light Frigate Graxan, was alive by any definition for it pulsed under the weight of turbolaser blasts, streaking missiles, tongues of flaming bringing ligh to darkness, and strange gigantic torpedoes that seemed to be a half-dozen times more powerful than the much smaller variants that swooping TIE Defenders let loose.


Alive. Space had come alive in an instant, from tranquility to animation in record time. But with life had come Death.


" Sir, orders from Xerus: we're to take a trailing position and provide a screen for Platform 77."


" Very well. Helm - follow the Xerus." Commander Fillustri fell down into his seat before the lasy syllable of his sentence had come from his lips, a flurry of light laser fire washing over the aft shields. The ship ignored the passing cannonade and fell in on the aft-port quarter of the newer, Mark II Fire Frigate. Boasting a few more light turbolaser cannon and a better power-recycling system, the Mark II was all but indiscernible from the older craft. Together they broke from formation and ran deep into the system to the second planet, under assault from a pair of grotesque-looking ships that may have at one point been Strike Cruisers.


From the farthest point range-finders would calculate the frigates opened fire on the trailing ship. Neon light turbolaser blasts from twin chin-mounts splashed shields that glowed blue when the energies met. The stream of fire pounded away but did not last long, the attackers approaching at near flank speed. Inverting their hulls the fast craft used ion cannon to rake the ventral surfaces of the cruisers. A few hits punched through shields and shorted out minor systems, but Fire-class Frigates sported ion cannon meant for boarding pirates, not disabling line warships. Though the all-Ewok recording of the Issix chants may have stopped playing for a few anti-aerial gunners, the ships as wholes went unaffected.


" Sir, our readings match the Xerus. The shields on those ships are disproportionately strong. Commander Matley suspects they're drawing power from the engines. We're to split off and concentrate our fire on the lead cruiser's reactor hoursing."


" Acknowledge receipt, Comm. Helm, turn us about and give us a dorsal run towards the engine housing. When we approach dump our missiles right at the hull-seem."


The Fire came around with break-neck speed as only frigates could. They were intended to battle life fighters and they did. Moving above the cruiser the frigate loosed all weapons at its disposal into the shields opening enough holes to be dangerous to those protected by them. Before turning again to escape the bow batteries of the second ship, the Graxan fired five concussion missiles directly at the hull from range not recommended by any instructor at the Imperial Academy. In little time at all, the cruiser's aft seemed to hiccup, then it was torn apart from the inside, victim of one strike dorsal, and one ventral by the Xerus.


" Shields have failed. We're getting damage reports from all sections. Hyperdrive is disabled and propulsion will take at least twenty minutes to be restorted. Attitude is undergoing thruster adjustment but they can't handle that kind of stress."


Commander Fillustri looked out one of the side viewports, fully expecting the remaining cruiser to be firing the terminal shots at the two now-disabled frigates. Instead he saw only debris and a Victory II-class Star Destroyer, silhouetted against a star, that almost seemed to be grinning.


" Commodore Cartless to all units," thundered the commander of the 47th Squadron of the Line. " The enemy has been driven off."


Incredulous, the fight having only begun twelve minutes before, the Commander glanced at his Sensor lieutenant. " He's right, sir. All hostile ships have jumped to lightspeed or are being boarded."


" Sir, we're receiving flash traffic to sector command. Apparent Kween, Nar Shadda, and even Ylesia have all been attacked. Kween has not sent any addition signals."


" Ok, so they've attacked us. We've won some, they've won some. Now who the hell are they?"

The Jarmin XIII was eerily alone over Kween. It had been towed into orbit of the world itself but not boarded. There it sat, silent witness to streams of transports and shuttles that ferried troops below. Though no man aboard was a combat veteran - before that day - none had any doubt that the rather tiny garrison below had succumb to a lightning invasion.


The fighting had stopped in-system hours before, and not a shuttle had come and gone from the world for the last thirty minutes. Captain Extilz paced back and forth along the length of the bridge; most of his crewmen were elsewhere. Some hoped to hide in the secluded areas of the freighter, others had resigned themselves to being captured or worse. Beads of sweat covered the captain’s face until eventually fatigue forced him to sit in an empty seat.


So this is how it ends. Hours of torture before being reduced to so much slag.


Fate answered Extilz before he could add his own musings to the theory. A light began blinking on the sensor officer’s console. It was accompanied by a shrill warning siren - a shuttle was approaching.


The Captain mustered what strength he could. “ All officers to the launch bay. We have guests.”





The shuttle lacked all the elegance of the Lambda-class ships in Imperial service. It was an awful, boxy thing with a wire-strewn engine housing and expansive view port at the bow. It penetrated the gravimetric field with ease and hovered above the decking, giving off a terrible hiss as its engines adjusted. With a thud it landed, vibrating the steel underfoot. Assembled to greet it were a dozen men, none armed, all in insignia-less Imperial uniforms: the officers of the Jarimin XIII, Imperial Department of Military Logistics.


As expected, the shuttle simply sat there. The Imperials tried to pierce the canopy with iron gazes but the tinting would not be fouled. Moments passed, turning to hours for those whose nerves had already snapped - or were close.


When the moment came that ramps extended and two doors opened up, the tension in the bay was palpable. The air was stale with the sweat of twelve frightened men who only served the Ensign of the Imperial Navy because it paid much better than many civilian tanker jobs. The looked at the first enemy soldiers with curiosity. They were humans! Wearing breastplates of grey armor and jumpsuits of black they acted very professionally. The first ones out darted around the shuttle, scanning every crevice for would-be ambushers. Four of the soldiers trained their guns on the crowd of officers while more still moved away from the shuttle into the corridors of the tanker.


Next came an officer in a uniform of black, his open-faced helmet under his arm. He carried no carbine, instead a large pistol holstered on his left side. He scanned the scene and with a smile, moved down the ramp. “ Who is the ship’s captain?”


The stocky Teyr-native stepped forward. “ I am.”


“ Good,” came the reply.


Another occupant stepped outside into the docking bay’s recycled oxygen. This man was of average height and build, not very spectacular at all. He wore no armor, instead a uniform of jet black cut along very Imperial lines; where a rank plaque should have been was instead a row of medals, each studded in gems of doubtless great value. A cloak hung behind him, clasped to the tunic by shoulder boards that were almost indiscernible from the tunic itself.


“ It can’t be…”


The executive officer looked towards the Captain who had gone quite white. The cloaked man moved closer to the Captain and stopped well within striking distance if he so chose.


“ I see you know me but I am unsure as to who you are.”


The Captain swallowed. Hard. “ Captain Extilz, commander of the Jarimin XIII.”


“ Good. I will make this brief. I have no interest in your ship, and killing its crew does me little good. The fuel in your holds, however, I do require. You will give it to me.”


Bravery was not in the Captain’s heart and he remained deathly silent. A young second lieutenant, however, felt zeal override judgement. “ And if we don’t?”


The cloaked man laughed. “ I said it does me no good, I never said I was reserved against doing it. I assure you your cargo can be confiscated without any oxygen whatsoever in the habitable areas of this vessel.”


“ Shut up, Vrost! NOW!” The Captain bit out, turning back towards the cloaked figure. “ And what happens to us if we do not resist? Prisoners of war?”


“ Hardly. You get to go free. You get the honour of telling the galaxy to fear my name again.”


The second lieutenant, the zeal gone from his voice, spoke up out of curiosity. “ What name is that?”


The cloaked man laughed.


“ Snowkan.”

Imperial City, Coruscant


Three Days Later...


“ The performance had been stunning!”


The words were on the lips of all those present. Inside the great opera hall and in the corridors and anterooms around it swirled some of the Empire’s cultural elite, each one to a man stunned . His Majesty’s Youth Choir had only the year completed a tour which had baffled the minds of onlookers, metso-tenors and contra baritones alike hitting notes that had to have required tireless months to perfect. From Coruscant to Cadomai, no one thought the season could be bested. And now, just over nine months from the previous season’s close, those thoughts had been proven false.


The hall itself could hold almost five thousand people in rows and rows of elegant red-lined seats held in finely-etched frames, another five hundred in smaller, more personalized observation boxes along the walls. Some were reserved for prominent soldiers such as members of the General Staff or the Emperor‘s Court; others for men of power such as the Minister of the Interior, the Lord Chancellor, and others; still more for the titans of industry. One box, the grandest of them all, was reserved for the Emperor himself.


The concert itself now over, the members of the retinue mingled with the crowd. Conspicuous in their flowing white robes and broad sashes, they could just as easily be discerned by the patrons, for the choir was composed of the youngest talent the Empire had to offer. The definition of youth was relative in a domain as vast as the Emperor’s but ages ranged from ten to twenty years. Some, such as the gigantic alto from Dubrillion, looked older, while others, such as the lead bass from Falleen, looked only half his sixteen years.


The HoloNet had predicted a night to remember and none had contested the claim. Men were awestruck by the members’ talents. Among those who congratulated the tiny singers was the equally-conspicuous Baron of Raenoria, Grand Admiral Telan Desaria. Though his uniform had been replaced by a fine tuxedo with his medals thereupon, none could mistake the cover-man of Modern Imperial.His two-meter frame moved from group to group, congratulating and thanking as many of the artists as he could. Soon he stood by a man as tall as himself but much less slim.


“ Your Excellency, you honour us with your attendence.”


The Grand Admiral nodded then bowed himself. “ No, Maestro, you honour us. I cannot image the training that this required.”


“ A great deal, Baron. A great deal.” The Director moved over to a nearby table and raised a glass to the air. “ May all our seasons best the one before!”


The Grand Admiral noticed several members of the press nearby and realized that his endorsement was being slyly sought. Were the evening less splendid, he might have declined. The occasion, however, deserved it. He followed, raised a glass of sparkling champagne, and gave off a hearty “Regimus Galactica.” The press turned their cameras and holo-recorders, documenting the moment for posterity.


“ Make way!”


Most others who had raised their glasses did not hear the command, the cacophony of clinking glasses and talking patrons only growing. But the Grand Admiral heard it. He looked down a nearby hall and recognized an old cap worn by some Fleet officers, a style that had been prevalent at Endor. Eventually the bearer of said cap made his way through the crowd and stood before the Grand Admiral, snapping a sharp salute.


“ What is it?“


“ Your Excellency, the Emperor has forbidden it to be spoken in public.”


The other guests had forgotten the Grand Admiral’s presence as he grabbed the young officer by the arm and rushed him off into a reviewing box. “ well man? Out with it!”


“ Sir, a shuttle is waiting to take you back to High Command. The Emperor has commanded you return to your ship and make best speed for OverSector Outer. Several worlds have fallen and His Majesty demands they be retaken.”


“ Taken by whom?” the Baron asked, finishing the drink he only barely realized he was still holding.


“ Sir, there are rumors but Intelligence has been unable to confirm-”


“ Commander, I asked you a question.”


The officer swallowed. “ Admiral Snowkan, sir.”


The glass found itself slammed down, its base fractured, as the former holder and his guest raced through a crowd to a waiting shuttle.

<center>If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared - Machiavelli</center>



<center><i> Hatred was a strong emotion. It could drive men for years. It could also twist them. Their hatred for something could become so strong that they lose sight of what it was they hated. They could hate something so much that they were willing to become like what they hated, just so they could get rid of whatever it was that they hated. Such as strong hatred, especially coupled with a desire for revenge, was never a good thing and took a terrible toll on the person who held the hatred. It would twist and dement a man, making him different from how he was. If one does have such a hatred, they can but hope that they will manage to keep on their desired path and that they achieve their goals quickly, and prevent the toll from being too terrible. But few can achieve this, and many fail to accomplish their goals and mission. They are no defeated by their enemies, but defeated by themselves, for they BECOME their enemy.</i></center>

<center> - From <i>Galactic Menace or Deranged Mind: A Complete Biography of Snowkan and the Clone of Snowkan</i></center>


<b> Ylesia </b>
<b> Day 3 of the Siege </b>

A cloaked man stared out of the viewport of the bridge of the ship <i> Iron Fist </i> which was acting as the flagship for the fleet laying siege to Ylesia. A young Rodian male sat in prison on the planet, imprisoned while waiting trial for the charges of treason that had been laid against him when he had printed a leaflet against the Empire and the OverSector Outer government and promoting the liberation of the planet by the forces in orbit which were laying siege to the planet. A middle aged woman cried amongst a crowd of similar women, all previously unknown to each other but who had formed a common bond in the recent crisis that faced Ylesia, for their husbands and/or sons had been taken away by the government, conscripted for service in the army if those laying siege to the planet landed. A child lay on the ground beside his dead father, where they had both been beaten and his father killed when the Imperials broke up a demonstration against the government. A child who was now left fatherless and whose arm had been broken because his father and he had been on their way home from the store and tried to pass through the crowd, not knowing what was happening. These four individuals, the cloaked man, the imprisoned Rodian, the grieving wife and the weeping, injured youth, were similar in only one way. They weren’t all from the same planet. They weren’t all the same species. They weren’t all male or female. They weren’t even all the same religion. They didn’t even all speak the same language. And they had never met. But they still had one thing in common. That thing was a deep hatred for the Empire. They were now made similar due to the spite and malice that filled them, all directed at the Empire. The Rodian had held this hatred ever since the Empire had taken over the planet. The grieving wife and child had just developed this bitterness that day. The cloaked man was the one who had hated the Empire for the longest and who hated them the most. For years he had nursed this hatred and animosity. For years he had been waiting for the day that he would be able to have his revenge, his retribution, his reprisal, his vengeance, his <b>vindication</b>. For that was what it truly was that he wanted. Vindication. Vindication for the all the damage that the Empire had cause him. Now that day was nearly here and he had started to take his revenge on the Empire.

He had picked his target well. The OverSector Outer was the least defended area of the Empire. The population still remembered the Imperials coming in and conquering them. The population was not largely supportive of the Empire. There were some staunch Imperials, but when he conquered a planet, he could expect that many would join his fleet. Join his Iron Fist Fleet. Gone was the Iron Fist Empire. Instead they had reverted back to their true form, a fleet. That was what they had been designed as. A fleet. Not an empire, but a fleet. So he was bringing them back as such. The Iron Fist Fleet, after years of absence from the galaxy, had returned and would make the Imperials pay for daring to leave the OverSector Outer so under defended and therefore allowing him to be able to take most of it from them. And for allowing him to control around a dozen other planets prior to attacking them for years with populations generally being just under 1 million people. However that in itself was how he had managed to control them without the Imperials noticing. Planets with just a million people, or even a couple million, like his most populated planet, went un-noticed by the Empire. The devil was in the details and the Empire didn’t notice the details. On those planets he had recruited warriors, trained the troops he already had and given more training to the mercenaries he had recruited. As well he had managed to construct ships there, using the hulls of old ships that he had had salvaged from old battles, which were numerous in this sector of the galaxy, where pirates and smugglers had been living for years and who different governments, from the Rogue Empire, later the Jutraalian Empire, to the Mon Calamari Republic to the New Order and even to the original Iron Fist Empire had fought. In the years following the destruction of the original Iron Fist Empire, the clone of Grand Admiral Snowkan had once again managed to mass a fleet. And with that fleet he had struck out against the Empire and had achieved success.

In the first day he had personally supervised the takeover of Kween. Attacks on the first day had also been launched on Nar Shaddaa and Ylesia. Both of these were somewhat successful in that they had managed to destroy much of the fleet orbiting those two planets. An unsuccessful attack had been launched on the Imperial Fleet Supply Depot at Florioan. He had lost a few of his precious ships, but fortunately none of his <i>Corruption</i> - class Missile Destroyers. The Missile Destroyers where the primary hitting power of his fleet and the primary method for deployment of his <i>Serpent’s Fang</i> - class Missile Launchers. Each of the <i>Serpent’s Fang</i> Missiles was more powerful than multiple proton torpedoes combined together. But his loses that he suffered at Florioan were still great as he didn’t have that many ships and he would need to take advantage of all of his ships to defeat the Imperials. Fortunately his losses were partially offset by the success that he had achieved at Kween, and largely offset by the successes on the second day. The Missile Destroyers were named after the 2000m Destroyer which had been the Iron Fist Empire’s main frontline warship.

The second day had been more devastating for the Imperials. The assault on Nar Shaddaa had been renewed and the remaining Imperial presence in orbit there destroyed. The fleet had then demanded the surrender of the planet and when the garrison refused, they had taken out the garrisons. They knew they didn’t have the ground forces to take out the biggest garrison in a straight on assault, so they pounded it to the ground with turbolasers. Unfortunately they had not been trained for planetary bombardment, even from within the atmosphere and therefore there was a lot of surrounding damage and civilian casualties. The other garrison, a smaller one, was taken over in a quick lightning ground assault with minimal casualties. In that they had captured some ground assault vehicles, extra weapons and extra armor. These they had distributed amongst their own soldiers and then the new recruits they had gained, which were plentiful from Nar Shaddaa from that day as well as Kween the day before. The good thing about the recruits from Nar Shaddaa was that many had had experience fighting before and others still had ships, armed with at least some type of weapon. While some people did not join due to the planetary bombardment, there was still many recruits from Nar Shaddaa. As well some people were not willing to join up to fight, but they were more than willing to go out and organize hunting parties for the known staunch Imperial supporters and those who had been part of the government. Not only were these staunch Imperials killed, so were their families, to prevent them from rising up against the Iron Fist Fleet later on. Some would call it mass murder, just as they would call the bombardment of the garrison and the misses a brutal, cruel tactic, but in the Iron Fist Fleet the orders came from the top and those were that civilian casualties were to be avoided, but if necessary to destroy the enemy they were allowed, and that enemy survivors should not be left alive to later threaten the Iron Fist Fleet. Since hurt had to be caused to the families, the Iron Fist Fleet would ensure that it was so severe that they did not have to worry about the vengeance of those families, like the Empire now had to fear their vengeance.

Two uncontrolled planets were also added to the mix. A fleet showed up at both Lannik and Ganath. At Lannik the locals, the Lannik, a race of pale skinned warrior humanoids, quickly joined up with the Iron Fist Fleet. They had a history of deals with criminal organizations and had relations with the mercenaries which helped make up the Iron Fist Fleet and with the powerful criminal organization, the Union, who had been helping fund the Iron Fist Empire, which made them more willing to join. With them their brought their relatively small fleet, but still a very welcome and large contribution to the Iron Fist Empire. Omega Thrax was the connection between the Iron Fist Fleet and the Union and he had done well at making sure that they had everything they needed, from money, to weapons to material, to food to contacts. Thanks to his efforts, the Lannik had joined the Iron Fist Fleet easily and had greatly helped the fleet. Ganath, inhabited by humans, also joined the Iron Fist Empire, although their contribution would be more as ground troops, if they were need, and extra crewmembers to fill up the ranks of his ships or to be put on any captured ships.

Which brought him to the biggest success and greatest lose for the Imperials of the second day. Toydaria. He had personally supervised the attack on Toydaria. While the Toydarians were not your typical humanoid, they were winged and much shorter, their wings would allow them to operate all aspects of a ship and operate in zero-gravity easily, if the need arose. As well they would be excellent ground troops, if they could have armor modified for them, which the Iron Fist Fleet had planned for and manufactured (by strapping together smaller pieces of armor). As well they were immune to force mind tricks, so if the Empire brought in any Sith he would be able to send them to help deal with them. He knew he needed the planet, for the additional troops with their special attributes. As well he needed to take it away from the Imperials and gain whatever supplies they had stockpiled there.

As such he had brought in a large fleet. Not only had he come out with the same twelve <i>Corruption</i> - class Missile Destroyers that he had brought with him to Kween, he had brought in three of the ships left over from the Iron Fist Empire days, a Dreadnaught – class Heavy Cruiser and two Nebulon-B Frigates, since modified so that their weapons were almost entirely powerful double ion cannons. The Dreadnaught, <i>Reprisal</i>, had almost entirely heavy ion cannons meant to disable capital ships, while the two Nebulon-B Frigates, <i>Payback</i> and <i>Disabler</i> had some heavy ion cannons but mostly had small, fast-turreted ion cannons designed for anti-starfighter duty. As well there was a variety of transports, modified freighters, an ancient Marauder Corvette and various Uglies. He also had a wing of 72 Skipray Blastboats that he had purchased at various times from a couple different manufactures that were the pride of his fighter fleet.

The fleet had come out of hyperspace perfectly and had deployed immediately to destroy the enemy fleet. The Imperials had fought bravely and till the end, but the Iron Fist Fleet had fought better. They had swooped in and destroyed much of the enemy fleet, though had lost many of the freighters and Uglies. As well one of the <i>Corruption</i> - class Missile Destroyers had fallen to enemy guns. However the trio of old Iron Fist Empire ships had done their work. An enemy Dreadnaught – class Heavy Cruiser had been disabled, as well as many fighters. The Skipray Blastboats and many of the Uglies had contributed to disabling the fighters. The total catch was one Dreadnaught, 42 TIE Fighters, 30 TIE Bombers, 20 TIE Interceptors and, best of all, 12 TIE Defenders. These fighters were quickly captured. The enemy Dreadnaught they left in orbit, completely disabled with <i>Reprisal</i>, <i>Payback</i> and <i>Disabler</i> covering it to ensure it stayed disabled.

The Skipray Blastboats had swooped down to the planet, along with the Marauder Corvette and multiple transports. They had leveled the main garrison and the area around it, then, just like at Kween, lightning strikes had taken out the remaining two garrisons. When he learned of civilian deaths, he had simply shrugged them off, saying to the captain of <i>Iron Fist</i>, “Deaths happen in war. Civilian deaths are unfortunate, but everything must be done to destroy the Imperials. I would kill 1 000 civilians myself and order thousands more killed just to get at an Imperial garrison”. Fortunately he had managed to keep the civilian deaths quite for a while and by the time they were announced a story had been told that blamed the deaths on the Imperial garrison self-destructing. As such, many Toydarians had joined the Iron Fist Empire. Later he had gone back to orbit and multiple, small, quick boarding actions had captured the Dreadnaught.

However that was the second day, this was the third. A noise behind him made the cloaked man turned around to see the ships captain standing there.

“Yes Captain?”

“Admiral Savage is calling you, sir.”

Admiral Savage was Grand Admiral Snowkan’s second in command. His name was not Savage, rather he had been given that nickname while acting as a trainer during officer training the Iron Fist Empire, due to his brutal and savage nature towards the trainees. The nickname had stuck, and his real name had long since been forgotten by everyone around him. He had been placed in command of the secret facility where the clone of Grand Admiral Snowkan had been developed.

“Tell him to continue with the plan. We will continue to lay siege to Ylesia, teaching the Imperials that we can surround their sector capital and they can do nothing to stop us. We are spitting in their face Captain and they will learn to live with the humiliation until I decide to destroy them.”

“Yes sir.”

The captain began to turn away before Grand Admiral Snowkan spoke up again.

“One more thing before you leave.”

“M’lord?”

“What is the ETA on the other fleets?”

“The one from Nar Shaddaa will be meeting up with us in one hour, the one from Ganath an hour after that and the one from Lannik will be here in moments. The fleet from Toydaria still is not ready to leave. The crew of the captured Dreadnaught is still practicing with their new ship.”

“Excellent. You are dismissed.”

The cloaked man stared out at Ylesia again. Ylesia had long been a conflict spot in this sector, with the Mon Calamari Republic owning it after taking it from slavers and spice miners, later the Yuuzhan Vong had launched an attack on it, an attack which he had been present at commanding an Iron Fist Empire fleet to help their allies and his cousin, the Rogue Empire, later the Jutraalian Empire, had also been involved in that debacle, supposedly on the side of the Mon Calamari Republic, yet still managing to somehow takeover the planet in the end. The New Alliance had tried to help out the Mon Calamari Republic, but they had had their own issues at that point. Eventually the Jutraalian Empire had fallen apart with the “New Empire” and their Wrath Virus. The planet had been controlled by criminal elements again before the New Order and Baron Desaria’s Imperial Guard had come in and taken over. Now the Iron Fist Fleet was here to take the planet away from the Imperials and liberate those living there, finally offering them peace. But for now he would sit here and watch the Imperials. Watch as their resources dimmed and he captured any convoy on route to the planet. The proverbial ball was in their court, but they couldn’t do anything with it. The Iron Fist Fleet and Grand Admiral Snowkan were here to stay. And the Imperials on the planet would have to learn to fear and respect that fact and his name. Snowkan. It was a name that Imperials everywhere in the galaxy would soon associate with terror and fear. Snowkan. The name would haunt their sleep and scare their children. Snowkan. It meant success.

His revenge had started. The humiliation of the Empire had begun. Its demise was near, just as the demise of the OverSector Outer was nearly complete. Snowkan would win this war. And he would have the last laugh, for he wins laughs last. And he who laughs last, laughs the most.

Reports were received every time the task force dropped from hyperspace to alter course, and those reports were none too good. Ylesia was under siege; Ganath and Lannik had sided with this pretender to power impersonating a long dead foe of the Empire; Kween was conquered, Nar Shadda all but subjugated with a ruthlessness that would have made Tarkin proud - OverSector Outer was being overrun.


Grand Admiral Desaria looked quite dour as the radiance of hyperspace bathed the bridge in blue and white. His fists were balled, each one wedged under an opposing arm so as not to betray his contempt to the young crewers around him. Anger welled up inside him as he considered the operational situation, each thought formed only souring his mood. Kween and Florioan had been two of the four concentrations of Imperial Fleet ports in the sector and those could be effectively written off. Ylesia was besieged, the 71st and 73rd Squadrons of the Line no doubt all but shattered in its defense. Only Pegasus Station, a massive complex constructed inside an asteroid field out of planetoid fragments lashed together with steel, remained un assaulted. There was the 50th Cruiser Squadron, a formation of fast-attack ships often drilling and maneuvering, continually impressing the satellites and telescopes with which the Black Dragons watched the Empire. They were unengaged and boasted the best perfomance ratings in the sector but as a whole were untried.


Reports mean little in battle. What of their mettle? Command had ordered them to maintain high alert but not to sally forth as Snowkan had not yet located them. He was no doubt hunting for them and they, along with the armada that followed the Intimidator, would form the strike force that would reconquer the lost territories and salve Imperial pride.


Grand Admiral Desaria had paid homage to the Emperor before his departure, counseled after by his mentor and friend, the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Services. The words of Marshal Kaine echoed in his head and refused to be silecned. " Eliminate him, whatever the cost. Fight fiercely and do not relent. However, remember to temper your zeal with wisdom; do not become blinded by duty, only be guided by it. But eliminate this threat. We did once and failed - do not repeat history's mistake. Do not repeat mine."


" Your Excellency," called Captain Voltaire, master of the Conqueror-class Star Destroyer. The Grand Admiral turned ever so slightly and received the news he had been waiting thirty hours to hear. " We revert to realspace in five minutes. All preparations made before the last jump sensors mark as in effect."


" Very good, Captain. Bring the ship to battlestations and order all crews to their fighters. When we revert we will not launch fighters. Kriegs One and Three will deploy for anti-missile pickets."


" Admiral, are we to active the GDS?"


To that, the Baron of Raenoria only smiled.





Ylesia was a world embattled, set on from all sides by an armada of ships both large and small. Freighters dashed about, minimally armed, firing at the stary TIE patrol as if trying to impress the more massive cruisers and frigates that did the lion's share of siege work. The system boasted two-dozen planets that orbited a titanic dwarf star. From the outermost moon to the molten Vremyan closest to the sun, what remained of the Imperial garrison fought for its life.


That life was only days away from ending. Four Star Destroyers had been the center of power in the region, the pride of the 71st and 73rd Squadrons: now they drifted as lifeless hulks, condemned by gravity to be fuel for the existence of a star. Twenty escorts from frigate to battelcruiser were now only five, each one reduced to firing a savlo and scurrying into the safety shadow presented. TIE Defenders, flying with wild abandon, was the thin grey line that menaced every approach to Ylesia itself. They were the only impediment to battle on that world's surface and the commitment of the million soldiers crouched anxiously in trenches, eyes looking only up.


Few expected reinforcements. Few had hope. None expected hyperspace reversions at the system's periphery at five jumpoints known only to Imperial navigators. First thoughts betrayed panic, that the still unknown enemy had captured in-tact holomaps of the region. Panic surrendered to unbridled exhultation when scanners beeped and warbled a pleasant cacophony of friendly transponders. To the extreme left reverted a group of six frigates, bristling with guns and ready for battle. To the right, a collection of cruisers and gunships identified as Escort Line, First Squadron of the Guard. Centrally appeared three groups of battleships, all told mounting seven Star Destroyers - three Mark IVs, one Astrus/Mark V, and three Reigns. Battlecruisers and frigates spread out alongside them. At the center of the group was the largest ship of the line many ahd never lain eyes on.


Transponders recorded her as the Conqueror-class Star Destroyer Intimidator, new flagship of the Imperial Guard.


What struck the observes as odd, despite their exhilleration, was the absance of fighters - bay doors were not even opened!


Though outnumbered, the arrived Imperial warships proceeded arrogantly forward. Fire greeted them, missiles and lances of laser energy reaching out to embrace and to kill. Menace and contempt was the only reply as shields were raised and braced.


The Iron First Fleet approached and fired, using speed in a magnificent display of boundless bravado. The ships, mostly the frieghtors and armed merchantment in hired service, fell on the battleships like a swarm. Their numbers mounted by the minute as fighters reinforced them, the larger ships approaching with more deliberation and care.


Though they new not from where, every ship in a five-hundred kilometer sphere of the combat-christened behemoth shook as if the Gods's Hands touched all.

Omega Thrax stood calmly in the communication suite of the Iron Fist, watching the distorted image of the Chairman seated before him. As always with the Union, any communication with the leadership was always so heavily routed it was impossible to trace. The distortion was, of course, also intentional so that even if intercepted, no one could see the face of the chairman or hear his natural voice since the distortion also garbled it to the point of almost sounding mechanical or alien. Paranoia was the bread and butter of Union operations when it came down to these sort of things, especially now that they were more or less the Iron Fist Fleet's primary financial and logistical backer. Union operatives have been given a very straightforward order: aid Iron Fist and its leader. Those who recieved that message jumped at the moment to carry it out for fear of what might happen if they didn't obey because they all knew of the Chairman's tendency to have non-compliant Union members executed rather brutally, their throats slit open from ear to ear. So now the Union's full capabilities were being concentrated on making the Iron Fist fleet into more than just a nuisance. The Empire would be forced to respond more so than they would have ever imagined.

"Does everything go according to plan?" the Chairman's image asked as it sat their, its fingers steepled in thought as it spoke with Omega Thrax.

"Yes sir, our customer is making excellent gains now that our agents have begun to provide him with much needed items and support. A number of former Tagge company employees, recently layed off and very bitter with the Imperial aligned company have also been aimed in his direction with a promise of better pay. They will make his salvage efforts much more efficient as well as help him get the space hulks he finds up and running up to full military standards much more easily," Thrax reported in his always unnervingly calm voice.

"Good, I understand Plurga his being very cooperative as well?" the Chairman stated a bit curiously.

"Oh yes, a war here means the Hutts can spread their influence much more effectively throughout OverSector Outer without the Empire to stop them. They're already becoming far too distracted by the increasing threat presented by our little wayward warlord."

"Excellent, continue with operations then. Inform our business partner of these latest accomplishment."

Before any reply could be given, the image of the Chairman faded away as the transmission was cut, as was often the case with Union's leader. He didn't spend time on last words, he simply gave orders and expected them to be obeyed, as anyone would who held the kind of absolute power that he does. Omega Thrax turned and exited the communication suite, walking onto the bridge of the Iron Fist and stood calmly next to the cloaked figure there.

"The Chairman is pleased with your progress so far. Oh, also those new workers will be here very soon to aid in salvage and maintaining the fleet. Also logicistics reports your next weapons shipments should be arriving shortly though a bit delayed. It took our operatives more time than they thought to steal the weapons from the Imperial weapons cache they were targetting. They had to poison the local commander and trigger a riot to generate enough chaos for them to carry out the theft successfully. But I believe you will be pleased, a number of the weapons were reserved for some of the Empire's more specialized groups. The ones that tend to use illegal technology."

Nal Hutta

Within his palace, Plurga the Hutt sat upon his dais, looking over reports recently brought from the profits he was generating from taking advantage of the Iron Fist fleet's challenging the Empire. OverSector Outer was degenerating slow but surely into anarchy as the Iron Fist fleet made its attacks, straining the Imperial forces in the region and allowing the criminal elements to move a bit more freely, especially with a few bribes placed here and there to Imperial officials in the region who were growing increasingly corrupt more out of survival than anything else. It was always natural for officials in any major position to begin to crack under the pressure, especially now that most were scared witless that their world was going to be attacked and the Empire was moving fast enough to put a stop to it. That meant they had to look out for themselves, so they took bribes and favors from the Hutts, a few at first but now increasingly more common as fear grew more and civil unrest increased. If there was one thing a Hutt was good at, it was monopolizing on an otherwise bad situation, especially since no matter what, they were guranteed to make some sort of gain out of this little turf war between the Empire and the Iron Fist fleet. The Union had its own agenda, and that included reasserting Hutt control over what had been more commonly known as Hutt Space before the Empire had come barging in, trying to force law and order down the corrupt regions throat with the whole OverSector Outer concept. Now it was times for some payback and perhaps a few nice juicy gains on the side.

"Tell me, Plurga, is this situation going as you like?"

Plurga lurched slightly in surprise and looked up to see Omega Thrax walking into his chamber. Well perhaps he should have thought more along the lines of "a" Omega Thrax. The masked man wasn't so much an individual as a collective entity that served the Union as its voice and one of its commanding operatives. This specific Thrax was his, attached to Plurga to ensure the Hutt recieved his orders and summons directly rather than some form of messenger relay. It made sense in a way because Omega Thrax, if captured, wasn't afraid of death or torture. How could he be when he wasn't even technically alive in the first place. His bodies were simply heavily augments Necrotroopers that served their purpose and would transmit his memories to the other versions when he died. An odd system perhaps but it allowed individual versoins of Omega Thrax to focus on their specific assignment while at the same time being aware of any goings on amongst the others if one of them happened to perish, sharing the newly learned experiences.

"It pleases me greatly, Thrax, but I want to know what precisely the Union thinks its going to do if their little scheme fails?"

"Nothing, everything is going along the lines we want. Our warlord associate is snatching what territories he can, drawing in a number of supporters all of whom have a score to settle with the Empire. The Empire is already responding. Grand Admiral Desaria has been dispatched to deal with it."

"Hrrrm, you say that without concern but the man is dangerous. He will be trouble."

"I am aware of the capabilities of the Grand Admiral. However, he plays a part in the overall goal of our operations as well. One way or another, the Empire will return Hutt Space back to the control of the Hutts and the Union will be there to reap the benefits of a returned and much desired criminal element."

"You better be right about this, Thrax. This whole scheme is costing me a lot of credits, though it does already prove to have advantages. I have several Imperial governors now in debt to me and you know how I keep track of my debtors." Plurga's wide mouth curled into a cruel smile.

"True, but remember that in the end, it is what is better for the Union than your own personal interests. You are just fortunate that what is good for you is good for the Union as long as you remain loyal to us," Thrax said in a rather pointed and obvious reminder of the Union's tendency to be rather vindictive and vicious in taking revenge.

Plurga merely nodded, having seen more than enough times the Chairman's endless capacity for merciless slaughter when it came to the treacherous and the incompetent. The Union had its pluses but once you were in, you didn't leave until you were dead.

OOC: This post is undergoing large amounts of revision. We thank you for your patience and understanding in this suspenseful time when you wonder how the man who scared the Emperor with his mere re-appearance will deal with being the first man to fight Telan's GDS technology. Stay tuned.


EDIT:

As you can tell the post is up and the thread has continued. Thank you for your patience and we apologise for the delay. We are grateful that you take the time to read our story. Opinions and comments can be made by PMing either this account or Telan. I, for one, appreciate feedback.

<center>The toughest thing about success is that you've got to keep on being a success. – Irving Berlin</center>
<center>Success breeds arrogance.</center>
<center>Arrogance is a kingdom without a crown. – American Proverb </center>

<center><i>As seen previously, the cloaked figure in question, the man consumed with revenge and hatred, had become his own enemy. He had killed thousands of innocents, just to complete his goals. The concentration of governments at the time and historians since then on the atrocities committed during the second day on Nar Shaddaa ignores a key factor of those atrocities. They were successful. So successful that he recruited enough new people and ships to form another small fleet and a huge army at the expense of the largest government in the galaxy. And that was just his gains on the second day, let alone those on the day prior to that and the days following. What other individual, be they part of a government or not, could say that they did more than he in one day? Even the Empire’s defeat of the Coalition at Corellia in the Coalition and Sovereignty vs. New Order War did not have the same significance because the Coalition was not the largest government at the time. Only Snowkan and his clone could claim to have made such gains in one day. However it would be best to bear in mind the above quotations before assuming that Snowkan would be victorious. Could the cloaked figure continue his success and defeat the Imperial Star Destroyer fleet in front of him, remembering that this was what had defeated him twice before and this was the first time the Conqueror – class Star Destroyer had been seen in action? Was he tough enough to keep on being a success and not let his success make him arrogant? Or would he succumb to the pressures of success and become arrogant, therefore making foolish mistakes and losing his advantage? These were the questions which lay in the hearts of everyone present in both fleets when Grand Admiral Telan Desaria appeared over Ylesia in the </i>Intimidator<i> with large portions of the Imperial Guard.</i></center>

<center>- From <i>Galactic Menace or Deranged Mind: A Complete Biography of Snowkan and the Clone of Snowkan</i></center>


The cloaked figure gave one of his rare smiles at Omega Thrax’s report. The smiles had become far more frequently recent as he gained more and more power. The delay of the weapons shipment was not to his liking, but it was a minor inconvenience in the greater scheme of things. He was getting new workers and the weapons would include specialized weapons, which was always a bonus. But most importantly, he had captured the majority of the Imperial holdings in the OverSector Outer and was laying siege to its capital. The Imperials were not capable of doing anything to stop him, and they knew it. No massive attack had been launched to drive his force from surrounding Ylesia. It was as if the Imperials were surrendering the entire sector to him, hoping that he would be satisfied with that, or hoping that he would not be able to progress beyond that and they would be able to defend the rest of their territory and build up for a counter-attack. Unfortunately for them he had no plans of sitting around doing nothing, so if they gave him the sector they would give him the needed foothold to destroy the Empire.

“I’m glad the Chairman is pleased, I owe him a lot. I’m glad he is benefiting from our agreement.”

This wasn’t quite a true statement as the cloaked figure did not like criminals and did not like that he was forced to rely on this obviously criminal organization to achieve his goals. Having to hire mercenaries and pay the Hutts for weapons also did not sit well with him. But weapons were a necessity in war and it would be impossible to topple the Empire without a war. War made strange bedfellows and the old phrase of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” was applicable in this case. He would, however, deal with the various criminal elements in the galaxy, including the Union, after he dealt with the Empire. You couldn’t let yourself become distracted when dealing with the Empire, for the second that you became distracted you became dead. In the meantime the cloaked figure was happy to have their help and would not let them see how disgusted he was at having to deal with them.

It was at this point that the Imperial fleet came into the system from the previously unknown hyperspace route. At first the cloaked man was angry that he had not foreseen the Imperial coming through a secret route, it seemed so obvious in hindsight, but there was nothing he could do to correct that at this point and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. However when he received more information about the fleet his smile reappeared and grew to a size larger than anyone had seen in months, even years. Then a strange noise came from the cloaked man and he started to shake. The various subordinates looked at first him and then each other, with worried looks until they figured out that he was laughing. Then they wondered why he was laughing, the appearance of an Imperial fleet from a previously unknown hyperspace route did not seem funny to them, rather it was frightening. Their worried looks just made the cloaked figure laugh harder. When he had recovered from his laughter, he turned to the Union representative beside him.

“Omega Thrax, you will soon see a sight that few men ever see and which had not been seen for years. An entire Imperial fleet of Star Destroyers turned into wreckage under the guns of a valiant freedom fighter. Citizens of the galaxy everywhere will remember this day with pride and joy, while Imperials everywhere, for the little time that they have remaining in this galaxy, will remember it with fear and terror, for it will be the first defeat the Empire had suffered in years.”

The announcement was met with murmurs from the crew members, but which were quickly stifled by the cloaked man’s shout.

“Captain!”

“Yes M’lord?”

“Move the fleet forward, we are going to crush the Imperial scum. All <i>Corruption</i> - class Missile Destroyers and fast attack craft, move to assault the central Imperial Star Destroyer. I want the Skiprays to attack that group of frigates at the extreme left, draw them off and see what else you can draw off with you. <i>Reprisal</i>, <i>Payback</i> and <i>Disabler</i>, coupled with the modified Marauder Corvettes, <i>Vengeance</i> and <i>Retribution</i>, assault the far left Imperial Mark IV Star Destroyer, aiming your weapons (almost entirely ion cannons) at the weapons emplacements. See what else you can draw off. Everyone else, straight up the center! That ship, that so-called Conqueror Star Destroyer, that so called <i>Intimidator</i>, that icon for all that is evil in this galaxy, that…that….that <i>ABOMINATION</i>, will be destroyed. It is the perfect example of Imperial arrogance. We will teach the Imperials a lesson and destroy it. Tell the Lannik to revert outside of the system, out of sensor range able for us to call them in at a moments notice,” said the cloaked figure.

“Yes M’Lord.”

With those words the Iron Fist Fleet moved forward in a head on attack against the Imperial fleet. A diversion of the Skipray Blastboats and the ships refitted with ion cannons were going ahead of the fleet, but off to the left side of the Imperial fleet to draw off part of the fleet.

As the fleet carried out his orders, the cloaked figure stared at the Imperial fleet on the screen in front of him and glared. Glared at the white Imperial Star Destroyer formation, with its sharp, angular lines. Glared at them, and felt hatred fill him. Hatred for the Star Destroyers and what they represented. Icons of the Empire, the same Empire that had brought his life crashing down around him, using those same icons. The fleet first at Teth and then at Ralltiir had both been made up of predominately Star Destroyers in numbers, and certainly Star Destroyers in power. Now he hated Star Destroyers and what they represented. The Empire was trying to mock him by sending a third fleet of predominately Star Destroyers to try and defeat him, even trying to add insult to the injury by making the third fleet’s Star Destroyers come in three separate groups. This time would be different. This time he would win. For the third time was the charm, and he would defeat the third Imperial Star Destroyer fleet sent to crush him no matter what the cost to him, his men and any civilians who happened to get in the way. The Empire would pay for what they had done to him. Their Conqueror – class Star Destroyer, their oversized flagship, would be destroyed first, crushing the spirit of the defenders of Ylesia even more than it was already crushed. The destruction of the <i>Intimidator</i>, and the cloaked figure’s obvious lack of being intimidated by the Imperial fleet, would result in the Imperial line faltering and collapsing. That would give him time to wipe out the Imperials while they were unorganized due to the loss of their flagship and the much honored and talked about, Grand Admiral Telan Desaria.

“Entering firing range now sir.”

“Fire the <i>Serpent Fangs</i>! I want a continuous stream of missiles going from our ships against that thing.”

The various <i>Corruption</i> - class Missile Destroyers in the cloaked figure’s fleet began to fire on the Conqueror Star Destroyer. Each Missile Destroyer timed its volleys in groups of 2 then 4 then 2 again and so on, but ensuring that a steady stream of <Serpent Fang</i> - class missiles were heading at the <i>Intimidator</i> from each of the Destroyers. The cloaked man could not wait to see the result of his assault as the missiles flew forward at the Imperial flagship.

At this point, as the first wave of missiles neared the Conqueror, all the ships were jolted. The cloaked figure was thrown forward a little out of his chair. As he looked at the sensor screen he noticed that all the ships appeared to be moving in slow motion and that his own ship was moving at just under half the speed it was earlier.

“What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know sir, we’re in some sort of gravitational field, we’ve got weird sensor readings everywhere. Its slowing down all our ships, even our fighters. Missiles are also affected. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“How big is this field and where is it coming from?”

“It’s a sphere, seems to be centered around the center of the Imperial formation, best guess is that giant Star Destroyer. Backing that up is that when the field went up its ray shields dropped, I guess it doesn’t have enough power for both the field and shields. The size of the field seems to be 500km.”

“Sir, we are getting word from the Lannik fleet. They just dropped out of hyperspace just outside of the system.”

“Obviously this is their secret weapon for beating us. That’s why they didn’t have their fighters launch either. Are we or they in the planet’s mass shadow?”

“No sir.”

“Continue to bring us forward at the best speed we can manage. And keep up the missile firings. Their weapon doesn’t matter, we will defeat them regardless and embarrass the Imperials even more because of it. Look at our target. We have barely hit it with anything and already it has no ray shields. That just makes our job even easier. Onward brave freedom fighters, glory will be ours this day!”

The Iron Fist Fleet continued forward at the Imperial fleet. The cloaked figure outwardly looked confident and sure in himself and his fleet, however inside he was far too intelligent to be so sure of victory.

<i>The Imperials have taken away our advantage of speed, we have no clue how much this affects anything, and it seems to be affecting our missiles, though how much is hard to say. I have to be careful about this situation and analyze it. </i>

“Sensors, make copies of all your information, visual and otherwise. I want to be able to go over this battle; the Empire will have more of these Conqueror Star Destroyers.”

“Yes M’lord.”

At this point the fleet from Lannik reverted from hyperspace outside of the system and let the cloaked figure know that they were ready and waiting for his orders. The cloaked figure told them to sit tight and wait for his orders. Before he moved them in he wanted to see how the situation would develop. The fleets from Lannik, Nar Shaddaa and Ganath were HIS surprises for the Imperials. They had shown their hand early on, but he would keep his hidden and only display it when he had to. If it was possible he would even keep some cards hidden for later rounds of play. For now he would see how his fleet fared and what the exact affects of this Conqueror were and how strong it could defend against his <i>Serpent Fang</i> Missiles, now moving towards it at a much reduced pace.