<font size=1>Planets included: Pembrick 2, Dayark, Exocron</font>


New Imperial Ubiqtorate Base,
Yaga Minor System



"And inform Director Isard that I would desire to speak with her on her arrival." Bhindi Drayson said, barely bothering to cover the note of contempt in her voice as she cut the transmission.

Director Ysanna Isard -- Iceheart -- was the Head of Imperial Intelligence, operating from the facility that was known only as "Krake's Planet". She had not been a supporter of Bhindi Drayson's acceptance into the ranks of the New Order, and was even less enthusiastic about her being allowed to maintain a Protectorate of her own.

That Bhindi had immediately set about rebuilding the Ubiqtorate from the destroyed base on Yaga Minor had only further Iceheart's loathing -- the Ubiqtorate was formerly the most powerful and influential part of Imperial Intelligence. Isard's Pet.

And she did not appreciate having her creation (such as it was) tramped upon by a "young, son-of-a-traitor, upstart-@#%$."

But that was none of Bhindi's concern. Whether Isard liked it or not was not her immediate concern. Isard would come, if only to get the opportunity to rant at the young Admiral.

On the desk in front of her, Bhindi's comlink chimed again.

"Drayson." She said, snapping the unit on. In the air immediatly ahead of her, a figure formed itself, tinted with the slight blue haze that was the norm in holoequipment.

"Admiral," one of her aide droids said, "the Relentless has just made orbit. Captain Mavrick is requesting an audience, at your earliest convenience."

Bhindi nodded slowly, shutting her eyes and leaning back in the chair. The Relentless was an Imperial Star Destroyer, recently deployed to the Kathol Border Regions to get a scope on the system. Captain Mavrick's abrupt return raised several questions. Namely, what was happening out there that had forced the ship to abandon its mission and report so swiftly after first setting out.

"Right. Have him secure his vessel, and meet me in Conference Room 82 planetside in an hour." That would, she hoped, give her enough time to get everything prepared.



As it was, Mavrick was already waiting when she arrived. The Captain was nearly fifty years old, and aging gracefully, with enough experience in the Fleet to put many of the newer officers to shame. He knew more about placing a single ship in battle than even Bhindi herself did.

He rose and saluted properly as she entered, and Bhindi nodded curtly.

"Captain. You have a report for me?" Mavrick nodded, reaching into his breast pocket and removing two neatly labelled datacards.

"A full log of our activities, and a Mission Report from my Executive Officer, and from myself." He said gravely. Bhindi eyed him closely, examining the man's face.

She was not nearly as practised in spotting emotions through facial expressions, but there was something about the way he held himself that worried her.

Taking the two datacards, she placed them on the table, one beside the other.

"Captain, how long have you been with the Empire?" She asked.

If Mavrick was taken by surprise by the sudden question, he did a good job of not showing it.

"Thirty years." He said, a distinct note of pride in his voice. "I reached the rank of Captain at age thirty-five." A remarkably young age for such a rank, Bhindi knew.

But then, she herself was already an Admiral...

Ignoring the thought, she nodded.

"And as a Captain of the Imperial Navy for an extended period of time, you have no doubt seen a great many things."

"Yes." Mavrick said shortly. "Many things, good and ill."

Bhindi paused for a moment, considering. This was leading somewhere, she knew. Something in the Kathol system.

Watching his face carefully, she asked, "What did you see?"

She already knew he was a good actor, and she hadn't expected to see much of anything. But there was something there -- of that, there was no doubt. A slight flicker of the eyes, perhaps a bead of sweat on his forehead.

"What did you see, Captain?" She asked again.

"I saw many things." The Captain replied, at length. "None of which I wish to repeat." He motioned absently towards the table. "It's in my XO's report."

Bhindi nodded slowly, picking up the datacard in question and twirling it between her thumb and forefinger.

"Captain, if you cannot tell me in your own words what you saw, I will have no choice but to remove you from active duty." She said gently. But there was an edge in her voice, one that the Captain picked up on.

"No." He said. "No. I can tell you-"

He cut off as the door hissed open behind them, and a group of individuals entered the room.

"Admiral, you requested that the Director be led her immediatly upon her arrival." The leader, a Stormtrooper in the standard black armour of the Ubiqtorate said.

Bhindi nodded, her eyes on the woman who had entered with the Stormtroopers. Her hair was a mix of black and silver, long, but pulled up behind her head in a hair pony tail. But it was her eyes that struck Bhindi. One, red as fire. The other, cold and blue as ice.

Ysanna Isard.

Iceheart.

"Admiral Bhindi Drayson." The woman said, saying each word slowly and purposefully. "It is a... pleasure to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine." Bhindi retorted, shaking Isard's outstretched hand. "You're just in time. This is Captain Gavin Mavrick, of the Relentless. He recently arrived back from a mission to the Kathol Outback. I assume you know about the Kathol System?"

"A loose collection of worlds set up as a Republic during the old Republic." Isard said easily. "Settled on fourteen worlds, and ruled briefly by Moff Sarne. Currently not under Imperial rule, though a portion of the populace still retains loyalty to the New Order."

Done her homework, anyway. Bhindi thought.

"Captain Mavrick was on assignment to monitor the sector and report back concerning a possible reestablishment of Imperial rule. His mission was cut short, however, by unanticipated... something."

Here, Isard smiled coldly and turned her mismatched eyes towards Mavrick.

"The Aing-Ti Monks." She said shortly. Mavrick sturred, and Isard continued. "The Aing-Ti Monks are a relatively unknown race living in the Kathol Outback, near the Kathol Rift. They hate pirates and slavers about all else, and did not approve of Imperial Rule of their space. Your Captain Mavrick witnessed an Aing-Ti attack, I imagine."

Both woman turned to Mavrick, who could only nod.

"This is his report?" Isard continued, stepping around the table and picking up the remaining datacard. "Ah, never mind."

She spotted the card still held in Bhindi's hand, and nodded.

"That would be it, then?"

Bhindi nodded.

"Yes."

"May I see it?"

With an inward sigh, she held out her hand. Isard took the card and, with a small smile, inserted it into her datapad. She read in silence for several moments, then nodded as if in satisfaction.

"Just as I thought." She said slowly. "Very well. I'm sure you'll want to read this, Admiral. May I also suggest that you take Captain Mavrick off active duty, for the time being. I wish to take some time to consult my sources, and then we can begin decide on a course of action." She paused, removing the datacard. "You don't mind if I make a copy of this?"

Without waiting for a response, Isard motioned for two Stromtroopers (white-clad Stromtroopers, Bhindi now realized -- Isard had brought her own guards, too), and swept out of the room.

Bhindi turned back to Mavrick, who was still seated where he had been for the duration of the meeting. She sighed.

"Captain, thank you for your report. I'm placing you on a temporary leave of absence-" She hushed the man's objection with a wave of her hand. "Get some rest, and I'll have the Doctor examine you in the morning."

She paused, rubbing her temples.

"Captain. Would you prefer to return to the Kathol Sector? I can easily assign the Relentless to Yaga Minor, and take one of the other Star Destroyers with me."

"You're going, then?" Mavrick asked, a note of... something in his voice.

"I see no other option. The Kathol Sector is of great importance to the Empire. It must be secured."

Mavrick seemed to consider this, then nodded.

"I have a duty to the Empire, and I will do it." He said at last. "If you wish me to return to Kathol, I shall do so. Assuming, of course, I am fit for duty upon your departure."

Bhindi nodded.

"Have faith, Captain. And thank you."

Two of the Ubiqtorate Stromtroopers stepped forward to escort the Captain to his temporary chambers, leaving Bhindi alone in the room.

Picking up the datacards and fingering them delicately, she followed them from the room, her mind still focused on one thing.

The Kathol Sector.

The last of the information on the Kathol Sector rolled by, and Bhindi Drayson bit back a sigh. The set of Imperial Records on Yaga Minor were amongst the most complete in the Empire, drawn from the archives at Coruscant and Bastion, Corellia and Csilla, and compiled for storage at the new Ubiqtorate Base.

But they contained grating lack of details about the Kathol Sector, and the Aing-Ti Monks. Most of what she had found out, Isard had already told her. Even the heavily encrypted Imperial Special Files sections contained only a sprinkle more information than the public directories.

Yawning and casting a glance at her bedside chrono, Bhindi hit a button to print the files – barely three pages of information – and pushed her chair away from the terminal. The chrono read fifteen minutes after two, long past the time she should have retired for the night.

But the issue of the Kathol Sector was preventing her from sleeping, and she knew it would be difficult to come by until she had made some progress against the lack of information coming from Kathol. Looking around the room, her eye caught the datacard that Isard had returned earlier.

Isard.

The Director of Imperial Intelligence had rattled off the relevant information about the Kathol Sector with ease back in the conference room. Certainly, all of it was easily attainable information (especially for someone like Isard)… but perhaps she knew more than she was telling?

With Isard, that was more often an actuality than a possibility.

Bhindi was halfway to the door when she realized the absurdity of it all. Even assuming Isard did know something more, she would not appreciate being barged in on at this hour to have her brain picked over. Especially not by a young woman whom she despised with a passion. In all likelihood, she would not even tell the Admiral what she did know.

And it would do Bhindi no good in her eyes to appear desperate.

No. If Ysanna Isard knew anything more about the Kathol Sector, she would take her own time in giving the information away. The woman was cunning (for that, at least, Bhindi had to give her credit), and no doubt had her own plan in the works. Probably she had since before her shuttle had landed on Yaga Minor.

Bhindi returned to her seat, thinking of calling up another search of the records. The last thing she was expecting was the door chime to ring.

It took three chimes for her to realize it was the door, and not something inside her own head. It took two more for her to rise and open the portal, spilling the room’s light into the dimly-lit corridor. Standing in the entrance was, not entirely unexpectedly, Commander Deusvult Godridge. More of a surprise, however, was the woman who had accompanied him.

Dressed immaculately in the same sort of all black, leather combat jumpsuit that Bhindi wore whenever she was on duty, her dark hair tired up in a loose pony tail behind her back, was Captain Ariel Trinity. Her ship, the Viscera, had been assigned to the Empire Proper and (reportedly) stationed on the former Chiss capital of Csilla. She had served with Bhindi in the Holy Demosthesian Empire, and had been one of the first to defect when word came through of the HDE’s ties with the Rebels.

Bhindi had not seen her since the Battle of Commenor, the Captain and her flag having been sent far away on a long-term mission, and Bhindi being occupied with (among other things) the liberation of Empress Teta. And, of course, the traitor, High Admiral Treddok.

“Admiral.” Trinity said, properly saluting her superior. Bhindi, still not completely over the shock of seeing her so suddenly, and at this of all hours, nodded once and blinked, as if to confirm the woman was indeed there, before returning it.

“Captain Trinity.” She said. “Welcome home.” There was a brief awkwardness, and then (all proper military manner forgotten) Bhindi embraced the woman.

“It’s been to long, Admiral.” Ariel said, breaking the hug and smiling openly, her white teeth glittering in their own immeasurable way.

“Far to long, Captain.” Bhindi agreed. “You’re on leave?” She asked, but her eyes were on Deusvult, who gave only a brief shrug.

“Not entirely. The High Command has recalled the Viscera from Csilla. One of the ships from Coruscant will take her place,” she stopped, frowning ever so slightly, “but I’ve requested a transfer. I wish to take command with a ship in the Yaga Minor Protectorate.”

No doubt she had made the same request when the New Order had first consumed the Holy Demosthesian Empire (in fact, Bhindi knew it to be so), and been summarily denied. The High Command had not wanted strong elements of the former Demosthesian Military working to closely together.

But that was a then. Before Bhindi Drayson had proven her worth, at Empress Teta and Reecee and Fondor. Before the Yaga Minor Protectorate had expanded to become the second-largest independently-controlled sector in the Empire, rivalling Theren Gevel’s own Bastion Conclave.

Imperial Moff Bhindi Drayson held much more power, both politically and militaristically, then she had after the war.

But she was now faced with a problem. If she accepted the Viscera into her navy, the Empire Proper would expect compensation. And that would mean parting with a perfectly capable crew… and a Captain.

Bhindi knew each of her Captains, their strengths and weaknesses, and designed her campaigns around them. All of them were essential, in their own ways. Who could she spare? Captain Mavrick and the Relentless? Captain Raine, and the Razor’s Edge?

“Command?” Bhindi asked, pushing the thoughts aside. Those questions could be answered later. They would have to be answered, later.

“They accepted my transfer.” The woman said slowly. “But the Viscera will not be reassigned.”

And suddenly, the problems took on a whole new meaning. Captain Ariel Trinity would be leaving her ship, and her crew, behind to join the Yaga Minor Protectorate.

“Commander.” Bhindi said, addressing Deusvult. “How near is the Meteora to completion?” Godridge knew what she was thinking, and frowned.

“A week. They’re finishing internal accommodations now. But the vessel is slated for Captain Hert.” He replied.

“I know. But Captain Hert has commanded the Katana for a decade. He can wait a while longer.” Bhindi smiled. “Kindly assign Captain Trinity the Meteora.”

The other woman smiled thinly, a smile eerily similar to the one Bhindi wore so often on the bridge.

“Thank you, Admiral.”

“Gloria Imperium.” Bhindi murmured in response.

The Governors were all seated in the expensive leather officer chairs when Bhindi and Trinity entered the room. There was little doubt amongst those gathered that the meeting pertained to exactly what Bhindi had called it, expansion. Some of the Governors (especially those two from Bespin and Taloraan, only recently lost to the terrorists) had been clamouring for expansion, citing (of all things) the need for more resources to fund the Imperial war machine.

As the two women swept by the table and took their seats at its head (an extra chair had been added for Trinity), Bhindi noticed two things. First, that Ysanne Isard was sitting in a third chair installed at the head of the table. And secondly, that two chairs sat empty around the table’s perimeter. The Director of Intelligence rose and shook Bhindi’s hand as she came to stand at the head, nodding politely. Even to the watching Governors, the mutual hate felt by both women was barely distinguishable.

“Two chairs are empty.” Bhindi said, turning to Isard as she sat. “No one is missing.” The other women gave a short nod, smilingly slightly. There was something in her eyes that Bhindi did not like.

“High Command has assigned Vladet and Raxus to the Yaga Minor Protectorate.” She said, revelling in knowing something about Bhindi’s little empire that she herself was not aware of. “They will need Governors, naturally. I’ve selected two suitable candidates…” And as she spoke, the door slid open. Two men, both dressed in the dark greys of Imperial Intelligence, stepped into the room.

Isard nodded to them. Bhindi did nothing.

“They’re both highly experienced in political manoeuvring.” She said. “And will serve most ably on your Council.”

From Bhindi’s left, Trinity leaned over and spoke under her breath. “And give Isard a direct link to your private deliberations.”

“It seems you’ve thought of everything, Director.” Bhindi said, meeting Trinity’s eyes only briefly before turning to look at Isard. “And thank you for your appearance.” She added, looking to the two men. “However, your presence is not necessary. Governors Pirek and Hausfeld will be given charge of the newly acquired planets.”

Isard was shocked. The men showed no emotion, but from the flicker in their eyes it was evident that they, too, were surprised. Pirek, Hausfeld, and the other Governors remained unmoved.

“You knew-” Isard hissed as two of the chairs were removed by the black-clad Stormtroopers and the Intelligence men escorted out.

“Of course.” Bhindi replied easily. “Alright. Let’s bring this meeting to order. Before we begin, does anyone have anything they’d like to bring before the Council?”

One of the Governors, Affon Lafel, nodded. He was a heavy-set man, born on Averam under the control of the former Rogue Empire. He had claimed strong ties to the Rogues and then the Jutraalians prior to the Empire’s reclaiming of the planet, and Bhindi wondered still how he had managed to get a position on the Council. He had a rather powerful family, old money from questionable business dealings made during the Rebellion, and she was certain that had something to do with it.

“If I may, Admiral? Recently, one of Averam’s more prominent hotel facilities was attacked by terrorist factions. We believe them to be remnants of the Rogue Empire hoping to resecure their hold on the world.” His eyes met Bhindi’s. “We request funding to combat the problem.”

Several of the Governors laughed, and the others said nothing. Bhindi tapped her fingers against the hard wood of the desk, not looking up, and spoke slowly.

“What is the garrison compliment on Averam, Governor?” Affon was taken aback by the question, and it took him nearly a minute to activate his data pad and access the information.

“Six million military, four million militia.” He said at last.

“And your ten million soldiers are unable to prevent a single terrorist attack?” Her voice was harsh, now, almost mocking.

“It’s a large planet, Admiral. Our soldiers cannot be everywhere. We can’t hope to protect against all eventualities.”

“Learn, Governor. If you can’t handle it, increase taxes. Yaga Minor will not pay for you to fix internal problems.” She paused dramatically. “If you cannot solve the problem, a more capable Governor will be appointed in your stead.

“Now sit down.”

Face flushed with embarrassment and anger, the man sat back in his seat.

“Now.” She tapped a button on the table, and a holomap appeared in the centre of the table. “This the Kathol Sector. It’s located rimward of Coruscant, but generally within the Empire’s sphere of influence. High Command has deemed it to remote to worry about.” She smiled thinly. “But I’ve taken some initiative here, and decided that four worlds within the sector are ripe for takeover.” On the map, the four worlds in question grew in size until they were each roughly the size of a man’s head.

“Pembrick 2, Dayark, and Exocron.” She said, pointing to each one in turn and waiting. It was a moment before anyone said anything. Finally, Torren Glowfeld, the Governor of Bilbringi, spoke. “You said there were four worlds, Admiral?” He said tentatively.

“Yes. This is Kal’Shebbol. Unlike the other three targets, it is currently held by another government. The Outer-Rim Sovereignty.” That world vanished from the map, and Bhindi returned her attention to the other three. “Kal’Shebbol was once the Imperial capital in the Kathol Sector, under Moff Sarne. It will be regained in the near future. However, before we can hope to make a move against the planet we must secure the space surrounding that section of the system.”

She pointed at the map, which had returned to its previous state.

“Pembrick 2 is located on the borders of the Kathol Sector. On the only route into the sector, in fact. He who controls Pembrick 2, controls all of Kathol.” She paused. “It will be our first target. Any questions?”

There was no response for a moment. All eyes were fixed on the map in the centre of the room, and the three highlighted planets. A triple-takeover was not unheard of, but it was a risky manoeuvre. To many minds, it simply took to my resources away from the capital to justify.

“You say the Outer Rim Sovereignty has a presence in the sector.” One of the Governors said. “Can we expect intervention from their forces if we do attempt to take action there?” Bhindi regarded the man for a moment. She had never had any Force talent, and she was not nearly as skilled as others at reading faces. But she did have a knack for picking out those who were against her or her ideas, and the Governor in question did not strike her as such.

“Obviously, we would prefer not to involve the Sovereignty at all. However, a state of war does exist between our governments. Any damage we do to them during the occupation is considered a bonus.” The question of ‘What about the damage they do to us’ wasn’t raised.

“And what about resources, Admiral?” This came from Derrek Trevlen. He was the son of an affluent High Class Coruscant family with close ties to the Regency (or so he claimed). It was those connections that led him to become Governor of Rishi and get a seat on his Council. Much to Bhindi’s disgust. “As you said, we are at war. The terrorists could strike at any time, even against the capital.”

“The terrorists pose no serious threat.” Torren Glowfeld said. “They were routed at Carida, and reports say that they likewise retreated from Hagreeva and Kessel. Abregado-rae has fallen, and what word he have gotten out of Corellia has been good.”

Bhindi leaned back in her chair, smiling thinly. Torren was one of the most senior members of the Council, Governor of the highly prosperous Commenor. But unlike many of the others, he was not a slave to his connections or to corporate business. He was a former officer of the Imperial Army, deactivated after the long and bloody ground war on Averam that had cost him his leg. Now he served to bring the other Governors in line. He was harsh, and he was blunt, but he was smart enough to pull it off and force respect out of even his staunchest opponents.

“And what about Bespin and Taloraan?” Derrek returned hotly, glancing at the Governors of those worlds. “The terrorists succeeded in blowing up our entire stock of Tibanna gas! And killed Lord knows how many people in the process.”

Torren’s reply was slow and measured, a stark contrast to the other man’s yelling, “And look where it’s got them. They’ve been slandered by some of the finest reporting in history. They have no way to secure the planets they’ve taken, and their losses far outweigh the gains. Bespin and Taloraan have no access to Tibanna Gas. The vats were emptied and shipped out at the start of the war – the Empire’s reserves are plentiful.” Torren smiled slightly. “And our forces held the worlds against the ORS without even a ship to claim. It is, in all respects, an Imperial victory.”

Derrek was fuming now, shaking, and looked ready to hit the other man. Bhindi rose smoothly and raised a hand.

“Gentlemen, please. Governor Glowfeld is correct – we are fully capable of launching this operation without reducing our security forces. In fact, our shipyards have just recently completed an order for a complete new fleet element, only a portion of which shall be assigned. The Yaga Minor Protectorate is better defended that ever before.”

There were no more questions. The Governors filed out silently, save for one. Torren Glowfeld remained where he was, seated at the side of the table away from the door.

“You have something to say, Governor?” Bhindi asked, rising and collecting her notes.

“Yeah. Trevlen.” Bhindi smiled.

“He’s certainly a irritating presence, isn’t he?”

“More than that, Admiral. I have reason to believe he’s been passing information to the Outer Rim Sovereignty.” He handed Bhindi a datacard and excused himself.

In all probability, it was nothing. Torren hated Derrek. Their relationship was much like that between Isard and Bhindi.

“What if it’s not, though?” Isard said quietly. “If you’d like me to investigate, I’d be more than happy.”

“Thank you, but no. We can handle this on our own, I think.” With Trinity following, Bhindi left the Director of Intelligence alone in the room.

Kathol Border Regions
Near Pembrick 2

The turbolift doors hissed open, giving access to the brightly lit (and painfully white) security corridor beyond. Ariel Trinity stepped lightly out of the significantly darker lift and into the corridor, booted feat echoing from the walls.

Two Stormtroopers, dressed in the black armour that was the norm of the soldiers of the Ubiqtorate Expansion Regions, saluted smartly with their blaster rifles as she passed, the butts of the weapons clickly against their chest armour. Trinity responded with a curt nod, not breaking her step.

Ahead of her, the doors to the warship’s bridge slid open. Visible through the open door, she could see the open viewports of the ship, looking out over the empty region of space in which the Meteora sat. The ship’s executive officer, a man nearly twice Trinity’s age, with dark hair and a closely cut beard, stood with his back to her.

“Mr. Mathews.” Trinity said, moving to stand beside him. From her new vantage point, she could see the comet that was the Star Destroyer’s rendezvous point. Perhaps this section of space was not as empty as it seemed.

Joshua Mathews turned and smiled thinly. Three of his teeth had been replaced with golden replicas, a reminder of the man’s service aboard the Star Destroyer Ravager at the Battle of Bastion, nearly five years ago. He had refused to have false teeth of the usual sort installed, saying that Bastion could never be covered up, nor hidden behind fallacies.

“Captain.” He said. His voice carried the thick drawl of a man born outside the aristocracy so common amongst officers of the Empire. And indeed, he had. Born on Agamar a decade before the Battle of Yavin, and serving in the Imperial Navy since he looked old enough to lie. He was an unorthodox man, first sending the fighters under his command to certain death to secure objectives that did not (at the time) warrant it.

Since his assignment to Captain Ariel Trinity, though, he had learned to be more careful with the lives of this under his command. He was also a rigid and remorseless trainer – the crew of the Meteora were quickly learning that an attack, real or imaginary, could come at any moment.

“What’s our status?” Travelling under strict communications blackout, the Meteora was moving as quietly as possible into the Kathol Sector. But they were almost upon the asteroid field that cut across the only real route into the sector, and it would be impossible to sneak after that.

It was Joshua Mathews’ responsibility to ensure that the ship, and its crew, were prepared when the time came.

“We’ve taken on the last of the supplies, Captain.” He said. “And we’ve received a report from the Admiral. We’re to proceed as planned.”

It was a risky manoeuvre, she knew. Even if the Meteora penetrated the Kathol Sector successfully, it would be cut off from assistance. Were she to be marooned, or even attacked, it would be some time before assistance could reach them.

Not to mention that they had almost not idea of the capabilities of the various pirate groups in there. It was unlikely that any of them could hope to out flank the massive Star Destroyer. But then, it had been unlikely that a tiny group of Rebel starfighters could destroy the first Death Star.

There was no room for assumptions, no room for maybes and hopefullies.

“Very well.” Trinity said, sighing only slightly. The wishes of the High Command had to be honoured. “Navigation, transmit your course to the Helm. Jump us as we’re ready.” She glanced at Mathews. “I want all systems double checked before our arrival. No surprises.”


The Star Destroyer reverted to realspace on the edge of Pembrick 2’s asteroid field. There were no ships in sight. No threats at all, in fact.

Save for the field of tumbling rock that stretched out in front of them, as if daring them to enter.

“Are there supposed to be routes through that?” One of the officers asked, staring in disbelief at the scope of the field. Even Trinity was taken aback. It was have taken one hell of a collision to generate a field this large.

“It’s said that experienced pilots know the route, whether by skill or luck.” Mathews said in reply. “But they’re usually in ships that can outmanoeuvre at least some of the rocks.” The Meteora, 2400 meters long, was not going to be avoiding anything.

“Arm all guns, shields to full.” Trinity ordered. There was no good waiting. “And the tractor beams. Try not to create too much of a mess.”

Slowly, the Star Destroyer entered the asteroid field.

Kathol Sector
Pembrick 2

The problem with approaching worlds from space, the helsman of the Star Destroyer Meteora decided as the ship entered orbit, is that they never look anything like what the maps show.

Pembrick 2 was no different.

White clouds filled most of the sky, obscuring the lands below from the casual view of the warship. The vessel's high-tech sensors could peirce the clouds without a problem, but it was almost unnverving not to know what was below you as you entered orbit.

The ship settled neatly into a slot above the planet. Only a handful of other ships were present, none larger than a Corellian Corvette.

"If it comes to a fight at least," Trinity thought to herself, "at least they can't field much."

But the mission approach called for the world to be taken without a fight. If all went according to plan, the Meteora wouldn't have to enter combat today.

Never the less, it never hurt to be prepared.

"Put the crew on yellow alert." She ordered the executive officer, rising lightly from the command chair and stepping towards the doors. "Have a landing party prepared."

An hour later, two shuttles baring Imperial markings were settled into their assigned berths on the planet’s surface. The black-clad Ubiqtorate Stormtroopers led the procession down the dusty street, a group on all sides of Captain Trinity as they made their way towards the small tapcafe that was (evidently) going to be the location of their meeting place with the world’s government.

Not an entirely appeasing start to the operation, at any rate.

Gone was the perfectly pressed uniform of an Imperial Captain. For the meeting, she had followed Bhindi’s lead in choosing a simple black outfit and a long leather jacket, hanging almost to her knees as she observed the city. A pair of black gloves completed the ensemble.

The day was cold, the sun hidden behind the cloak of the clouds overhead. It was winter where they were, but the city was sufficiently close to the equator that they did not see any snow. But from the shuttle, a white blanket was to be seen over the more Northern reaches of the continent.

The group arrived outside the place (the sign over the entrance proclaimed it to be the Blaster Burn), and four of the soldiers moved forward to ensure the inside was secure. As soon as they reported it was, Trinity entered. A pair of Stormtroopers remained outside to ensure no one decided to crash the meeting.

The tapcafe was empty, and it showed the same lack of use that had been evident from the state of the world’s streets. The mugs were all cleaned and stacked behind the bar, all of the bottles corked and lined against the wall. There were no overturned chairs or tables; everything was neatly set as if the owner had simply vacated for the weekend.

Only a thin layer of dust on all surfaces came some semblance to the time the place had sat empty.

Trinity cast her gaze around the tapcafe warily, settling at last on a man who sat smiling at a small table in the corner. To say that he was large would be untrue – he was massive. His stomach pushed against the too-tight confines of his tan army uniform, and his thick fingers gave evidence to his eating habits.

None the less, he hauled himself up and held out a hand to the Imperial Captain as she approached. Trinity shook it gingerly, silently thanking herself for the gloves.

“Welcome to our homely planet.” The fat man said, collapsing into his seat once more. “I’m Admiral Barossa.”

The first though that went through Trinity’s mind was, “They trust this man with a fleet? He can’t even take care of himself!” Then she remembered the mere handful of ships and orbit, and realized that the title ‘Admiral’ was only a formality.

But this was a diplomatic mission, and she had to play the game. And if his government had placed the title of Admiral on him…

“It’s an honour to meet you, Admiral.” She said, offering a proper Imperial salute. The man laughed and returned the salute casually.

“You do me to much credit, Captain.” He said. “The Pembrick Navy could hardly hope to defeat your Star Destroyer.”

It was true. And Barbossa’s forwardness in seeing that was good for the Imperial forces – if push came to shove, he knew he couldn’t win. That would work to their benefit.

“You are here to discuss those who have recently invaded upon our Sovereignty, I presume?” Trinity stopped, her heart suddenly beating fast. There had been reports – unconfirmed – of war in the Sector. That was one of the reasons that the Admiral wanted to create a presence in the region – to give the Empire a base of operations, if intervention became necessary.

But word had not yet reached them of who or what the attackers were. If this man could confirm it…

Barbossa had not noticed her surprise, and continued.

“Pembrick 2 is on the borders of the sector, of course.” He was saying. “There are only a couple of hyperspace routes in and out of the system, and all of them pass by this world.” He was evidently very proud of this. “Once, we had a mighty fleet. Pembrick 2 was a signatory of the Kathol Republic, and we were charged with defending the sector against enemy invaders.

“But those who came, we could not repel. They smashed the defence fleet here before moving on to Kal’Shebbol – that’s the capital of the Sector. Or it was, at any rate. We lost communications with them a couple of weeks ago.”

That explained the lack of any ships in orbit, and perhaps the abandoned state of the planet’s populace.

“A lot of our people were called up to fight the enemy on Kal’Shebbol. Evidently, it wasn’t enough.”

“Who?” Trinity asked, leaning forward over the table. “Who were they?”

Barbossa shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.

“They were enough to crush the Kathol Republic. Their identity isn’t of great concern to us anymore.”

“Who, Admiral?”

He smiled thinly.

“The Outer-Rim Sovereignty.”

The news that the Outer-Rim Sovereignty had been attacking planets of the Kathol Sector was perhaps the greatest surprise Captain Ariel Trinity could have expected. She stared in shock at Barbossa for a minute before she fully comprehended what it was he was saying.

“The Outer-Rim Sovereignty?” She repeated, her eyes wide. “It’s unbelievable.”

Admiral Barbossa nodded slowly.

“Believe it, Captain. President Griff was spotted on Kal’Shebbol less than a month ago, overseeing the final destruction of the Republic.” He said the name Griff like it was an insult. And little surprise, Trinity thought. The man and his government had effectively reduced Barbossa’s command to rubble, and left his planet to die in the wake of a ferocious invasion.

There was only one question now that was worth asking.

“Why?” Barbossa did not answer for a time. He sat back, rubbing his head and blinking several times. At last, we spoke. His words were slow and measured, as if he had rehearsed them many times before.

“Who can say? President Griff is not a man who is used to dealing with peace. He is a formal Admiral, you know. Perhaps he was simply bored, and wished to increase his power. Perhaps he saw the people of Kal’Shebbol and the Kathol Republic as insignificant. Or perhaps he saw us as a threat – though if the size of the Outer-Rim Sovereignty is any judge I fail to see how that could be possible.”

As he spoke, Trinity began to observe his face. It was dark, but it did not carry the deep concentration she would have though present if these were his true thoughts.

“But that’s not what you believe.” She said matter of factly. “You think there was something more, some ulterior motive that drove Griff to destroy the Kathol Republic, regardless of cost.”

“Yes.” The other said simply. “For whatever reason, we believe Griff considered the Kathol Republic a threat to his power.” Barbossa shrugged. “Who can fathom the minds of men such as him? Regardless, throughout the conflict we heard stories -rumours, really – of something known as ‘Project Scorpion’. According to what little information we have, Project Scorpion is a project undertaken by elements of the Outer-Rim Sovereignty to protect the federation.

“At all costs.”

With those words, the room seemed to chill. Certainly, the idea of a secret police force that monitored a government was not unheard of. COMPNOR did largely the same thing in the Empire, as did half a dozen similar organizations that existed within the Imperial hierarchy.

But to know that a government like the Outer-Rim Sovereignty went to similar lengths to impose their will on people was a surprise, to say the least.

“That’s remarkable.” She said at last, almost in reverence. Barbossa smiled and chuckled, leaning back in his chair and offering a lengthy gaze at the Imperial Captain. To lost in her own thoughts, Trinity barely noticed him, until he spoke again.

“Tell me, Captain Trinity.” He said slowly, “what was it that made a woman like you wish to serve with the Imperial Navy? In my day, no woman would ever have served as the Captain of a warship. Not one as mighty as your flag, at any rate.”

Trinity’s eyes widened as the man spoke. If the revelation that the Outer-Rim Sovereignty was employing top-secret projects to ensure their continued dominance was startling, this was even more so.

“You served with the Empire?” She said, hardly hiding her surprise.

“Aye. ‘A loyal servant Emperor Palpatine’ and all that.” He laughed bitterly. “But the Empire didn’t think I was good enough, evidently. Thought I had to much sympathy for the Empire’s enemies.”

And suddenly, it began to come together in her head. Barbossa’s knowledge of the Empire. His rank of Admiral in the Republic’s defence fleet. His intelligence that was still coming from Kal’Shebbol. And she smiled thinly.

“You were with Imperial Intelligence.” She said. It was less a question than it was a statement, and Barbossa grinned widely and nodded.

“One of Isard’s pets, or so they called me behind my back. As are you.”

Trinity started to ask him what he meant by it, but he was already going on.

“My team was responsible for planting the information that led the Rebels to Endor.” He smiled sadly. “Of course, that is not as much a bragging right as it once was. If things had gone differently there,” he gestured at the TapCafe, “I wouldn’t be here today.”

Barbossa stopped speaking, and the place was quiet for several heartbeats before he went on/

“As it was, Isard packed my and my unit up and sent us on a one-way trip to Kal’Shebbol to ‘Serve the Empire in the most able way possible’. After the New Republic chased Moff Sarne off the planet, and the Kathol Republic declared its independence, my unit left. But the Republic offered me a commission in their navy.

“And here I am. Giving my life story to a young Captain of the Empire, who is here to bring the glory of the New Order back to the Kathol Sector.”

He smiled broadly.

“I am right, Captain Trinity?”

It shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise, really. And (in its own way) it didn’t. Most people assumed, when an Imperial Star Destroyer appeared in orbit, that the Empire was there to conquer. And Barbossa was an old Imperial officer. He knew what the presence of the warship orbiting his planet meant as well as any man could.

“My primary mission was to secure Pembrick 2 as an Imperial signatory state, yes.” She admitted. “But the Empire is interested in the Kathol Sector and all its goings-on, as well.”

Barbossa gave a knowing nod, and even before he spoke Trinity knew that more of his all-knowing powers of deduction were at work. The man knew more about the Empire and its operations than was healthy.

“My contacts in the Empire still feed me some information, periodically.” He said with a small smile. “Not all of the Empire saw my exile to Kal’Shebbol as a death warrant. There are those,” now he grinned, “who were convinced Isard wanted me out of the way as a reserve.” Barbossa shrugged. “Regardless, I have not been completely forgotten.

“I know, for instance, that by the Empire, you mean Admiral Bhindi Drayson, the her Yaga Minor Protectorate. Not huge news, by any means. The Ubiqtorate Expansion Regions have been in the news much in the last year and a half. A pity Isard died at Thyferra… she could have pulled the Ubiqtorate together quite nicely.

“No insult meant to Admiral Drayson, of course.”

“Of course.” Trinity returned dryly. Evidently, Barbossa’s Intelligence networks were not as omnipotent as he believed. But it didn’t hurt to know something that the former officer didn’t. “You haven’t acknowledged my offer, however.”

“I wasn’t aware you had made me an offer, Captain Trinity.” Barbossa said.

“On the contrary. I stated that the Empire wished to make Pembrick 2 an Imperial signatory. As the acting Governor of the planet, and the highest-ranking officer of the Kathol Republic known to be living, it is your choice as to the future of this world.”

He smiled thinly.

“And if I refuse?”

“You were an officer of the Empire, Admiral. You know as well as I that when the Empire wants something, it is in our nature to attain it.

“By any means necessary.”

“It seems I have no choice.” Barbossa said. “Unless fighting you and your Stormtrooper escort is an option?”

In response, the soldiers clicked their blaster rifles against the chest plates of their armour, and Barbossa shook his head.

“No, I imagine not. If the Empire taught me anything, it was the value of making a decision that would benefit both your cause and yourself. Perhaps the Empire can aide the Kathol Republic in righting the wrongs made against it.”

Trinity smiled and offered a small shrug.

“Perhaps, Admiral. Perhaps.”

Star Destroyer Nirvana
Hyperspace


The meeting was held in the dead of night, when the rest of the ship’s crew was (for the most part) asleep. The Nirvana’s night shift was lax during a hyperspace flight, with nothing to observe but the swirling blue vortex of hyperspace.

The conference room was, in contrast to the rest of the ship, dimly lit. The viewports covers had slid down from their hiding places to block out the view of the hyperspace tunnel that was known to nauseate many people – especially those unused to travelling through hyperspace, and the room’s only light came from the holoprojector that showed the Kathol Sector in great detail.

Three people stood around the table, studying the display intently. Admiral Bhindi Drayson, the Commander in Chief of the Yaga Minor Protectorate, Commander Deusvult Godridge, her military aide, and Ysanne Isard, Director of Imperial Intelligence.

“The report was accurate?” The latter, Isard, asked, focusing her mismatched eyes on the orb that was Kal’Shebbol on the display.

“Yes. Trinity is one of our best operatives. The information came from an Admiral Barbossa, a former officer of the Kathol Republic.” Bhindi smiled thinly. “And a former operative of yours, Ysanne.”

The Director stood stone cold, her red eye blazing.

“Barbossa?” She said, frowning. “He was supposed to be dead.”

“Evidently, your intelligence on the Kathol Sector is not as good as you thought.” Bhindi said tartly. “Or perhaps Barbossa has been feeding you only what he wants you to know.”

The room was silent, and Bhindi smiled to herself. Getting something past Ysanne Isard was a difficult task, indeed. The Director of Imperial Intelligence had a certain knack for knowing every move the Admiral made before Bhindi did.

“Trinity reported that the Outer-Rim Sovereignty is forming a presence in the Sector.” She said, turning back to the holographic display. “And if most recent actions are any indication, they won’t take kindly to any Imperial incursions into what they no doubt consider ‘their’ space.”

“Hence the Nirvana and her task force.” Godridge said, pressing a button on the projector. Pembrick 2, the Imperial base of operations in the sector, came into focus, growing in size until it dwarfed the rest of the sector. Only one major hyperspace lane came in and out of the Kathol Sector, and it interdicted Pembrick 2 directly. A simple deployment of Constrainer frigates, and the Empire could effectively blockade the entire system.

All three individuals in the room saw it. If push came to shove, the Empire would have to be able to hold their own.

“We have to ensure that we do all in our power not to provoke the Outer-Rim Sovereignty.” Bhindi said, taking the display back to show the entire sector before focusing on Kal’Shebbol, the Sovereignty capital. “Admiral Barbossa officially invited the Empire to the planet shortly after Trinity’s arrival, and has submitted the proper requests for membership in the New Order.” She paused. “Whether that will be enough to keep the ORS away from the planet, though, is unknown.”

“Let us hope it is.” Isarsd said.





The ship’s bridge doors slid open with the silence that was so properly attributed to Imperial vessels. The bridge crew were all in their usual positions, watching the countdown as it reached the sixty-second mark. Captain Joda, the ship’s captain, could easily have handled the reversion of the vessel and its accompanying fleet to realspace.

But it was tradition for the Admiral of the Fleet to be present on the bridge of her flagship when she reverted for the first time over an unknown planet.

And of course, if they ran into trouble her presence there couldn’t hurt, either.

“Thirty seconds.” The helmsman reported blandly. Around them, the ship was slowing, the drone of the hyperspace engines being replaced by an eerie silence as the ship reached its exit point.

“Reversion in ten seconds.”

And then they were there, the metal shields over the bridge viewports rolling up to reveal the starry expanse beyond, and the massive orb that was Pembrick 2. The planet was only a few thousand kilometres out (that being a relatively small distance in the vastness of space), and the Meteora was visible as a tiny speck against the white backdrop of cloud that formed the planet’s atmosphere.

“Sensors?” Joda said, instantly falling into his role. The protection of the Nirvana was his primary mission, for the moment. It was his duty to ensure the vessel’s safety at all times.

“We’re not picking up anything unusual.” The officer reported evenly. “One Star Destroyer in orbit, half a dozen light ships, freighters by the looks of them.”

Joda nodded, scanning his own screen and confirming. Above him, the bridge speakers crackled to life, and a familiar voice floated onto the bridge.

“Admiral Drayson,” Trinity’s voice said, “welcome to Pembrick 2.”







The shuttle touched down on Pembrick 2 only minutes after the local noon hour, met by Captain Trinity, Admiral Barbossa, and a legion of Stormtroopers from the Metoera. Walking briskly in the cold wind, the group (surrounded by the faceless black-clad soldiers) made an imposing sight.

The Blaster Burn had been transformed since Trinity had arrived days earlier. The tables had been cleared from the inside floor and formed a sort of outdoor patio where the soldiers would eat, which was surrounded by a series of prefabricated wall units shipped down from the Star Destroyer overhead.

The inside had been cleaned and turned into temporary command centre. Equipment was set haphazardly in whatever space its operators could find, with a few poorly defined trails leading to the staircase at the rear. The Stormtroopers remained outside, taking up defensive positions behind the walls while Trinity led Bhindi, Godridge, and Isard through the room and up the stairs.

The hallway was equally clean, and portable lights provided illumination for what would otherwise no doubt be a very dark location. There was no doubt in Bhindi’s mind as to what the rooms had been used for prior to the Empire’s arrival.

Trinity slid a key card through the slot on a recently installed metal security door, and it clicked open.

The room was sparsely decorated, with a battered wooden desk and a few cabinets that had obviously been scrounged, topped by a pile of electronics necessary for communicating with the fleet and the rest of the troops on the ground.

“We’ve been overseeing most of our operations from here.” Trinity said, stepping behind the desk and pulling up the shades. What little sun was shining burst through the window, offering some light to the dark room. The room in question was on one side of the building, and because Pembrick 2 had only a few large buildings, they could see the city sprawling around them.

“You’ve had no problems with the locals?” Bhindi asked, observing the city around them.

“No. The Outer-Rim Sovereignty’s push into the sector convinced them that they needed protection, which the Empire offers.”

Bhindi nodded.

“This business with the Outer-Rim Sovereignty concerns me. There have been reports coming out of their space lately.” She paused. “I cannot remain here to see the project completed as I would wish. The situation on Yaga Minor is becoming more volatile by the minute. But it does not seem right to abandon the Kathol Sector now.”

Trinity nodded.

“We will of course continue our operations, Admiral. I am confident that we can handle anything that comes up. Kathol is a long way from the Coalition.”

Isard, standing in the doorway still, cleared her throat. All three others in the room turned to look, and she smiled coldly.

“I would be most honoured to remain here, Admiral,” she said, “and …oversee… the Captain’s operations.”

Bhindi regarded the older woman carefully. Obviously, there was something more to her desire to stay. But what it may have been, she could not imagine. And if she was willing…

“You will, of course, be under Captain Trinity’s orders.” She said. It was a great show of disrespect to tell the Director of Imperial Intelligence that she would be under the orders of a mere Captain, but Isard acknowledged with a simple nod.

“Of course, Admiral.”

Dayark

The transport bucked only slightly as it entered the atmosphere, the skill of the Imperial clone at the controls and the ship’s high-tech systems easily compensating for the severe winds outside the craft. The smooth ride into a landing position was a far cry from what was seen in the old war films – Imperial shuttles bravely evading enemy fire and shaking like wild beasts as they descended into the atmosphere of an enemy world, ready to spread the Empire’s righteous rule over the rest of the galaxy.

In some ways, Lieutenant Davin wished that the scenes depicted in the films were accurate. There was something unsettling about the smooth, quiet ride as the Pelican made her final descent, vectoring in on her target and firing a few quick bursts from her ventral turret to clear the land of enemy soldiers.

Davin was not wearing the normal armour of an Imperial Stormtrooper, or the black armour of the Ubiqtorate’s soldiers. The distinctive armour had been traded for a nondescript combat jumpsuit in a deep black. A utility belt fit around his waste, holding his two heavy blaster pistols, and two shoulder straps carried additional power packs, a pair of backup hold-out blasters, and a variety of vibroblades in sheaths. The Pelican’s black and gold Ubiqtorate colour scheme had even been painted over, replaced with a monstrous dragon in reds and oranges that was the symbol of the Kal’zhan Pirates.

Since the collapse of the Kathol Protectorate under the guns of the Outer-Rim Sovereignty, and the corruption that was rapidly eating away at the Kathol Republic, the pirates had managed to gain a foothold in the sector, raiding and pillaging nearby worlds at will.

It was a mark of the Kathol Republic’s determination that they had not reached the capital at Dayark before now.

As the shuttle touched down, Lieutenant Davin led his soldiers, all similarly dressed, down the landing ramp and into the hailstorm of laser fire. The defenders were determined, there was no doubt about that. As soon as the shuttle had landed they had directed their fire towards it, pitting the hull with insignificant marks where their small arms struck. But if they could get a heavy weapon set up before the Pelican managed to get her shields back up, the shuttle could be in trouble.

“There!” Davin called, sighting an ancient E-Web repeating blaster that a group of armoured soldiers were struggling to set up as quickly as possible. The Republic soldiers had a number of the weapons mounted on repulsorlift platforms, sweeping positions and paying out incredible prices for the pirates’ imprudence in coming here.

Tark, the group’s sniper, stopped and lined up a shot through the scope on his blaster rifle. The shot struck the weapon just below its barrel, severing the power and control lines before impacting on the concrete wall behind the operators.

Those men backed away from their now-useless weapon, firing a handful of scattered bolts at the new arrivals before dropping back and repacking the weapon. It could be repaired, and there was no use in leaving it for the enemy.

If only they had known…

“Move forward!” Davin ordered, and small unit left the landing pad, just as the Pelican took to the skies, steering away from the battlefield and driving hard for space. The soldiers watched their only link back to the Empire depart with a mixed feeling of dread and hopefulness. When the Pelican returned, they would be greeted as heroes. But for now, they had to survive.

The spot the Republic soldiers had abandoned had once been a flight control centre for the spaceport. The soldiers had barred the entrances and turned the heavy concrete structure into an effective bunker, and the single entrance that was immediately met with a small outer room provided them with the ability to hold it indefinitely against enemy soldiers.

They had left a good deal of weapons and equipment behind, including several boxes of grenades and portable generator for recharging their weapons. Around the Imperial team, the spaceport was quickly being run over. Three more transports, all far more battered than the Pelican had landed behind them and offloaded their own compliments of sinister-looking pirate forces.

Intelligence hadn’t pointed to such a large operation, but if they were actively raiding entire worlds, it only made sense. On the other hand, they must have emptied virtually every ship in their fleet to land this many ground troops. They wouldn’t stand a chance against a determined counter-attack.

Only a few short weeks had passed since the official entrance of Pembrick 2 into the Empire. Admiral Barbossa had been offered a commission by Isard in Imperial Intelligence, which he accepted gratefully, and had gone on to reveal his own complete network within the Kathol Sector.

Including an agent amongst the Kal’zhan Pirates. It had been he who had argued so strongly that the time was right for a raid on Dayark. To undermine the authority of the government and teach them the value of fear. The pirates had taken the bait, and the Pelican had joined them in time to join the attack on the capital. With the Outer-Rim Sovereignty next door, and the government of the Kathol Republic unravelling a little more each week, the time was right to move.

The pirates were spreading out faster than the Imperial team could track them, but that was all right. Lieutenant Davin knew full well that his was not the only team on Dayark. Several groups had been placed before the pirates begun, to monitor them and apprise the newcomers of their movements. It would be some time before they were all dealt with, but it would be done.

“Everyone geared up?” He asked, looking at each of the soldiers in turn. There were a dozen of them, plus the Lieutenant. Each was expertly trained and equipped with the finest gear the Empire could offer. They were clones, each with identical features. Their host was a long-forgotten Stormtrooper, promoted to be one of the Emperor’s Royal Sovereign Protectors. The finest soldier in the Empire, genetically enhanced and modified for expert performance.

He received twelve affirmatives from his soldiers, and smiled grimly. Leading a group of men that had been literally created by the Empire bothered him not in the least. They were bred for a single purpose, and he would make the most of all assets he had at his disposal. They were ready and willing to die for the Empire, and if he had to send every last one of them to their death to further the cause of the New Order he would not hesitate.

Davin himself would die to see the Empire victorious. He knew this, and his soldiers knew this, and they trusted one another. They operated as a single being as they left the building, moving forward in turns in the traditional leapfrog style. Their guns were equipped with silencers, and the pirates they encountered were dead before they knew what hit them.

They reached the edge of the city with little interference and no casualties. The Kathol Republic forces had been taken by surprise by the pirates coming, many of their defences compromised before the attack actually began. More work, Lieutenant Davin assumed, of the Empire.

Some of the pirates were busy pinning down what few positions the Republic held, while others loaded freight trucks with money, precious metals, and artefacts from the world’s past. The unit under Lieutenant Davin met up with another, commanded by Lieutenant Gunnar, and they made their way through the city, quietly and efficiently eliminating enemy positions as they went.

Slowly, the city began to quiet. The pirates had, by this time, discovered the wake of dead in the path of the group, and realized too that it was not the work of Kathol Republic soldiers. As one observer would put it, “Only Imperial Stormtroopers are so precise.” But the man was of little importance, and the idea that soldiers of the Empire might have been on Dayark was not heard by most of the pirates.

If they knew the truth, it might have saved their lives.

At about the same time that Lieutenants Davin and Gunnar were making their way into the city, a small Imperial task force exited hyperspace above the world and opened fire on the pirate vessels in orbit. With most of their crews on the ground and unsuspecting of any external threat, the first few minutes of the engagement leaned heavily in the favour of the Empire.

Even with a relatively meagre fleet – a pair of light cruisers and a single Illustrious class ship, the pirates had a hard time managing to repel the attackers. Some ships attempted to flee, leaving their soldiers stranded below, only to be pulled out of hyperspace by the ring of Constrainers stationed by the Empire to cut off their retreat and engaged by the squadrons of TIE fighters that waited for them.

The space battle was nothing short of a route, the few capital ships the Kal’zhan pirates could field quickly taken apart by the Imperial forces. Then the ships began to land soldiers.

Legions of Imperial Stormtroopers were put on Dayark with no official request from the government. They quickly moved forward, securing the spaceport and thus, trapping all of the remaining pirates on the planet’s surface. Without a fleet overhead, and facing the superior might of the Imperial Army, the majority of them surrendered.

Some would choose to honour the oaths taken upon joining the Kal’zhan Pirates and take their own lives, but nearly two thousand were taken into custody to be put up on a variety of crimes by the Kathol Republic. The Empire officially handed the prisoners over to the startled Kathol Republic officials, and informed them that representatives of the New Order would be coming shortly.

The Kathol Republic thanked them for their aide in driving the pirates off their world, and invited the Imperial forces to stay, for the time being.

They accepted.



24 Hours Later

Captain Ariel Trinity stepped onto the surface of Dayark scarcely 24 hours after the Pelican had touched down, her dark eyes taking in the ruined spaceport and swearing under her breath. The pirates had caused more devastation than was necessary in securing the spaceport. She instantly spotted a dozen structures that had been destroyed with little or no need, and sighed.

“Pirates!” She muttered, stepping over the broken concrete and into the waiting landspeeder.

The vehicle was piloted by a young man in a turquoise uniform, who welcomed her to the planet with a smile. He tried several times during the trip to make conversation, but Trinity sat silently in the rear, taking in the landscape as the speeder made its way into the capital city.

Repair crews were already setting about repairing the damages, and citizens were started to emerge from their hiding places. The last of the pirates had been moved, to various prisons or morgues, and all that was left to do was repair the damaged infrastructure.

“Easier said than done.” Trinity thought as they passed a neat hole in the street, caused no doubt by a Thermal Detonator.

They arrived at the government complex, remarkably untouched, after half an hour of travel. Trinity did not thank the driver, but followed her new guide quietly up the steps and into the lobby. Here there was some evidence of the recent conflict, but crews were working even harder here to remove the stains of blood from the marble floor and reset the broken countertops.

They rode an elevator to the top floor, where the President greeted Trinity with a toothy grin and a handshake.

“Captain Trinity.” He said, almost breathlessly. “I cannot thank you enough for your actions. If it were not for you and your men, we would surely be much worse off. As it is, we have lost nearly one billion credits worth of material. But without your intervention, it would have been far worse.”

He talked with such a rush that Trinity could hardly find time to insert a comment. When he finally stopped, she smiled and nodded.

“It was nothing, Mr. President. The Empire does not condone piracy – we could hardly sit back and watch them terrorize your world and do nothing about it.”

If he only he had known the truth of the matter. But there was no time for that.

“None the less, Captain, thanks are in order. But surely you did not come all the way here simply to receive words of thanks from an old man.”

“No indeed.” Trinity thought. But instead, she said, “I was nearby. But now that you mention it… you are aware that that Pemrick 2 recently submitted an application for membership in the Empire?”

“I am aware.” The President said. “Admiral Barbossa may have overstepped his bounds in doing so.” He added, with a hint of bitterness.

“None the less,” Trinity returned, “he was the recognized Governor of Pembrick and fully within your laws to do what he did.” Her voice was hard. “Pembrick 2 is now officially considered a member of the New Order.” She did not have to add, “whether you like it or not” – it was inherent from her tone.

“You want Dayark to join your Empire.” The President said.

Trinity nodded.

“You are very perceptive, Mr. President. Let us hope you are a smart man, as well.”

He leaned back in his chair, considering. Then he spoke again. “The pirates. They were a ruse. You only wished to land your troops on the planet. You knew we couldn’t withstand…”

“As I said, you are quite perceptive. And we do now have a complete legion on your surface, and our fleet is in orbit waiting for orders.” She smiled thinly.

“You compromised our defences.”

“Yes.”

“It seems I have no choice.” The President says. “What would you do if I refuse?”

“We would be forced to launch a full-scale ground campaign. Your planet would suffer greatly from the warfare, and many innocent people would die because of it.” She paused, and pulled a file from her case. “These are the applications and approval for Dayark’s entry into the Empire. All you have to do is sign the dotted line.”

Suddenly, the years in office weighed heavily against the President. He had not served so long in the Kathol Republic to see it come to this. The Empire, simply walking in and seizing everything he had worked so hard to attain…

But his primary concern were the people. And after that, the planet. And any way he turned it, Trinity was right. Dayark could not withstand war with the Empire. It was inevitable that she should rule. Slowly, painfully, he nodded.

“I accept.”

With a ball point pen, he signed the pieces of paper, one after another, and Dayark entered the Empire. He leaned back in his chair, becoming aware of the pain growing in his chest. Trinity radioed for an ambulance.

Two days later, the President was pronounced dead in hospital. The official report indicated he had suffered a massive heart attack, and all efforts to revitalize him failed. Captain Ariel Trinity was automatically appointed Governor of Dayark until a suitable replacement was found.



Star Destroyer Nirvana
Three Days Later

“Quiet an ingenious method, really.” The hologram of Bhindi Drayson said. “Conquering Dayark with minimal bloodshed and in record time. I doubt I could have done better myself.”

Trinity said nothing. She did not allow herself to feel overly proud of her accomplishment. It was all part of the job, and she knew it well.

“Was the death of the President part of your plan? Or was it purely coincidental?”

“It was not part of my plan at the time. But I knew he would have to be dealt with eventually. He was obviously unhappy with the Empire taking control of his world. This way, at least, there are fewer questions.”

The hologram nodded.

“Very well. What do you propose is next?”

“There are rumours surfacing that the pirates we encountered are only an offshoot of a larger organization, based in the Kathol Outback. I believe we’ll move next to eliminate them. We cannot afford an enemy, however insignificant, at our back.”

“Excellent, Captain. You are doing well.”

“Thank you, Admiral. If I may ask, how are things on Yaga Minor?”

Bhindi hesitated slightly, but recomposed herself and went on.

“Deteriorating.” She replied. “The Coalition has officially declared war on the Empire, and the words are flying fast and furious now.”

“At least it’s only words.” Trinity offered, and Bhindi smiled.

“For now, Captain. Gloria Imperium.”

“Gloria Imperium.”

On the other end, Bhindi cut the communication. Trinity’s room was plunged into darkness.



Kathol Outback
At the same time


“Your information led us into a trap.” Captain Kal’zhan said. The room on the ship was dark, lit only by a few dim glow panels near the doorway. On the floor was a short man, whimpering miserably and begging for his mercy from the towering giant standing over him. “A dozen good ships and thousands of men, lost.”

He lashed out with a kick, breaking the hand that reached for his ankle and getting another cry of pain from the man on the floor.

“What do you have to say for yourself, scum?”

The man looked up, his eyes dead, and saw the raging fire in his tormenters. At once, his will snapped and he lay open in front of him.

“Barobssa.” He cried once. “Barbossa!” Again and again he cried it, even as the pirate continued to kick him. He beat him until the cries stopped and the room was silent.

The body was dragged unceremoniously from the room, where it would be dropped out an airlock to float forever in the vast expanses of the Kathol Outback.

Kathol Sector

The Star Destroyer floated eerily in the empty space above the dead world. Alone, the only company the Meteora had as she made her rounds was the glowing ball of dust below her keel. The sensor crew was on high alert, but it was dull work. The boards had been empty since the ship arrived. Only a small meteorite that had been drawn in by the planet’s gravity had been detected, and it had burnt up spectacularly hours ago.

At least it had given the crew something to watch besides the same holodramas that the ship had been carrying for six months.

Trinity did not stand at the viewports, as the Captains of the ships in those films did. She was stretched out below on her bunk, asleep. Or so the rest of the crew thought. Trinity in actual fact required very little sleep, and often stayed up far past her shift devising strategy and bashing them back down on her computer terminal.

It was one of the reasons she had ascended so quickly to the rank of Captain.

Now, she was hunched over her desk, studying star charts of the local area. Dayark had yielded a wealth of information on the surrounding systems, and it had taken the Imperial navigators the better part of a week to sort through it all and reach any sort of conclusion.

If their predictions proved accurate, their target was somewhere within the small area of space in which the Meteora was currently stationed. That was the main reason for the stealth the ship had undertaken since its arrival. The communications blackout was beginning to get to the crew, but as Trinity had said, “the only way to communicate is to punch onto the holonet or contact an Imperial relay station. And the moment we do either, everyone in the sector will know we’re here.”

So it was that the ship remained quiet, orbiting a dead world of no real value, awaiting words from the scouts.

On the wall beside her, the com unit buzzed.

“Captain?” The young voice of a ship’s officer said from the bridge. “Captain Trinity, I’m sorry to wake you.”

“It’s all right, Lieutenant Gatsweld.” Trinity replied, straightening and turning to the com unit. “I wasn’t asleep.”

“You asked to be informed immediately of any contacts.” The voice said, only a little bit nervously.

“Yeah.”

“Well, we’ve picked up one of our scouts. Her captain reports some difficulty, but no pursuit.” Trinity nodded without realizing it, then shook her head and smiled to herself.

“Very well. Have the scout dock and send the commander to conference room sixty-seven. I’ll be there soon.”

The Lieutenant acknowledged, and the unit went dead with a small click.

Trinity removed the black officers jacket from the back of her chair and shrugged into it, opening the doors to her quarters and squinting to adjust to the harsh light outside. The quarters were located just under the bridge – not because the Captain preferred to luxurious appointments all that much, but because since the Meteora wasn’t a command ship, there was no Admiral to take them. And it was convenient to be so close to the ship’s nerve centre. Since taking command of the vessel, Trinity had transformed the quarters into a combination war room/secondary bridge.

She was just stepping into the turbolift to take her to the conference room when the ship’s alarms began to sound, and Lieutenant Gatsweld’s panicked voice came over the public address sytem.

“We are under attack! Repeat, we are under attack! Captain Trinity to the bridge please! We are under attack!”

Swearing under her breath, Trinity hit the button that would send the lift to the bridge, and waited several agonizing seconds as it sped her to her destination. Gatsweld damn well better have had the sense to raise shields, at least.

She stepped onto the command deck just as the enemy fighters buzzed by, heavy blasts raking the Star Destroyer. The beams dissipated several meters before striking before the hull, and Trinity gave a sigh of relief as she realized that the shields were indeed up.

“Where did they come from?”

She demanded, rousing the bridge crew and causing them all to look up.

“They followed our scout’s vector!” Gatsweld cried. “They’re pretty quick; our turbolasers haven’t been able to hit them.”

“Then use the laser cannons!” Trinity roared. Gatsweld was cowering against a control station.

“They’re to powerful. Their shields have been shrugging our laser cannons off like nothing!”

“Quite the technology.” Trinity observed as a pair of brilliant green beams lanced out from a laser cannon turret… and did nothing to slow the enemy ship.

“Right.” She said, a plan already formulating in her mind. “How many flybys have they had?”

“Three, maybe four.” Gatsweld replied, recovering from his earlier fright and standing straight.

“Always the same approach?”

“Aye, Captain. They come in, we fire, and they scatter.”

Trinity nodded.

“Good. Then here’s what we do. Wait until they approach, and open fire directly with laser cannons. When they scatter, hit them with the turbolasers.”

Gatsweld nodded, understanding, and relayed the orders to fire control.

“Here they come!” The sensor officer called. Indeed, the fighters were fast approaching, coming up from the ship’s bow and firing at the Star Destroyer. The shots did little against the vessel’s shields…

“I wonder why they bother to continue the attack.” She thought out loud. “They can’t hope to overwhelm us this way.”

Suddenly, laser cannon fire began to lance out. Predictably, the enemy ships scattered… straight into the paths of the ship’s turbolaser blasts. Two were consumed instantly, turned into glowing fireballs as the heavy weapons bore into them. The other two went spiralling away from the ship, fires burning in their cabins.

“Two more at mark six!” The sensor officer called. The Star Destroyer responded with a volley of laser fire, distracting the ships enough for the turbolasers to get a clean sweep in. The two enemy vessels spun out of control before smashing into one another and exploding.

“That’s it.” The sensor officer said with a broad grin. “The board is clear.”

Trinity nodded numbly. The attack had been futile – the pilots had to have seen that. But if they knew it, why continue their attack?

It was a question she did not have an answer to.



The scout pilot was waiting in the conference room when Trinity arrived. He did not smile when she entered, only stood and solemnly saluted.

“It appears you were followed.” Trinity said shortly, taking the seat across from the man and looking at him. He was tired – that much was instantly obvious. He had two days worth of stubble on his chin, and his eyes were dark.

“I apologize, Captain.” He said. “I was careless.”

“No harm done, it seems. The attack left no lasting damage.”

“They have our position now.” The pilot said darkly.

“Insignificant. I’ve alerted two of our cruisers – they’ll be here in less than an hour. If there are any further hostilities, we’ll handle them.”

But the pilot was not convinced.

“They’ll be coming in greater force. The attack was merely a warning. They are coming.”

There was no time to wonder about what had happened to the man. He was obviously hallucinating – perhaps permanently scarred.

“Did you find it?” Trinity asked softly, watching the man’s eyes.

He was silent for a moment, before he gave a simple nod.

“I found it.”

He said no more. An hour later, the ship’s medic would pronounce him legally insane, and he would be confined to his quarters until he could be properly treated.

“Pull the ship’s records.” Trinity ordered. “I want every scrap of information they collected.”

Then she returned to her cabin, and fell asleep at once.

Exocron

The Imperial fleet emerged from hyperspace only a few thousand kilometres distant from Exocron’s primary, their profiles being cloaked from enemy sensors by the sun’s heavy radiation. Hidden from conventional sensors, at any rate. If the information pulled off the scout was any indication, the aliens they were dealing with might not go for the conventional methods of detection.

“We’re clear so far.” The sensor officer reported, and the bridge crew breathed a visible sigh of relief. The small fleet had been jumping in and out of hyperspace for the better part of three days, trying in a vain effort to draw enemy defences away from the planet. With those efforts futile, Trinity had turned to full scale invasion.

The plan that had been drawn up called for the fleet to split into three groups and strike hard and fast against Exocron, hopefully taking out any resistance in the initial push. From the records they did have, Trinity knew it was unlikely that even a massed Imperial fleet would be able to overcome the sophisticated weapons employed by their enemy.

But there was always a way to win the battle without utterly destroying their enemy. It would only require no small amount of skill and a lot of luck.

“Coming up on the first checkpoint.” The navigator reported evenly, offering a nod to Trinity as she glanced in his direction. The Metoera was flying point, her massive bulk cutting a swath through space as they boar down on the world below. The nearby sun put out immense levels of radiation and dust – so much that the space they were driving through was actually tinted with deep reds and oranges. Where the ships had passed, an eerie trail was actually visible.

The fleet passed the first checkpoint, a simple waypoint overlaid on the map, and made the first turn. Using their momentum, the ships locked onto one another with their tractor beams and used the sudden inertia to swing themselves around in a tight arc. Suddenly, they were moving down on the planet from a different angle, the sun directly at their backs. Speed was increased to flank, and the Frigates tightened into a defensive sphere.

“Sensors reading half a dozen enemy capital vessels.” The report was calm, collected. Trinity acknowledged it with a brief nod, turning to gaze at the planet. It was growing rapidly in the viewports, getting larger by the second as the fleet moved towards it at their best speed.

Trinity took a second to recheck her own sensor board. There were indeed half a dozen enemy vessels, each about 300 meters in length. If they were normal warships, she would have had no doubt that the Meteora could have handled them all on her own.

But these were by no means normal vessels.

“Moving into effective firing range now, Captain.”

It was the moment of truth. If the enemy fired first, they would have no excuse. But at the same time, the Imperial fleet did not want to provoke hostilities by being the first to fire their guns.

“Picking up a power surge from the lead enemy vessel!” The sensor officer called. In the same second, a beam lanced out, immensely bright and almost like a knife amongst the stars, and slashed into the Frigate Thunderstorm. The small ship went dark almost immediately, bodies and debris rushing from the hole in her side.

“Order Thunder back.” Trinity ordered. “All guns, fire at will.”

Immediately, turbolaser blasts and missiles were sent out in return, smashing into the sides of the enemy ships. They held steady, not firing again, and taking the damages with an eerie grace. Then, almost as one, they struck.

The ships moved forward in the blink of an eye, and suddenly they were surrounding the Star Destroyer and power surges were being picked up.

“Brace!” Was all Trinity had time to yell before the massive warship began to shudder, the beams erupting against her shields and holding there. She watched in horror as the meters began to drop, almost one percent per second, all the way to fifty… and then they stopped.

“Signal groups two and three.” Trinity called, as the crew began to recover and turn their attention back to the enemy. The shields were picking up charge from the engines now, and the guns continued to thunder.

“Reading hull breach on enemy vessel, tagged One.” The sensor officer said warily, and the entire crew looked up at the vessel in question. Turbolaser fire could be seen striking against the ship’s hull just at the midpoint, digging in and tearing out chunks of metal. The enemy ship began to shudder, before it exploded in a brilliant burst of red and gold fire.

“Strike one. Enemy vessels firing.” And then the shields were crackling again with the golden haze of the enemy weapons. But it was not nearly as strong as the first attack. The shield level dropped at half the rate, coming down almost reluctantly.

“They reinforce each other!” Trinity realized, smiling thinly. For each ship they knocked out, the enemy weapons would become less potent.

“Concentrate all fire on target marked Two.” She ordered. Slowly, the vessel’s guns came around to target the one enemy ship. Suddenly being attacked by the ship’s entire compliment of guns, the enemy vessel began to shake, before blowing apart much like its predecessor.

Wavering now at the loss of two of their ships, the enemy vessels began to fall back.

“Groups two and three are in position, Admiral.” The communications officer reported quietly, and Trinity nodded in thanks.

“Signal the enemy fleet. Everything we have – use the docking lights if you think it will work. Tell them the New Order offers them this chance to surrender. If they refuse, we will destroy the planet.”

There was a lull in the battle while the message was sent – across all conceivable bands and even through such crude systems as mores code, send via the vessel’s docking lights.

Without warning, an alien voice crackled across the bridge com unit.

“We have seen your ships, Imperial. And we accept your terms.” Like they had a choice.

“Thank you, Commander?” Trinity guessed.

“No. I am the High Elder Garha-Ta. I am the speaker of the Shara-Ti Monks.” Trinity stopped, her heart racing all of a sudden. The Shara-Ti Monks? Had she heard correctly?

“I was under the impression you were of the Order of the Aing-Ti Monks.” She said, probing.

There was what might have been laughter from the other end of the com.

“Hardly. The Shara-Ti Monks are far Truer than the Aing-Ti. We exist to serve ourselves, and only ourselves. The Aing-Ti are weak. We are strong.”

“Your defeat seams to indicate otherwise.” Trinity responded, smiling and only slightly annoyed that her opponent could not see her doing so.

“Fortunes of War.” The other returned calmly. “Hardly the end of the Shara-Ti Monks.”

“If only you knew.” Trinity thought. But she only said, “If you wish to believe so. Your crews will abandon their ships and make their way to the surface. Our troops will began landing within the hour. Any attempts at hostility will be met with resistance.”

“Understood.” The com went dead, and Trinity shook her head.

“Aliens!”



Landing on the planet had been like setting down underground. On the night side, the entire world was pitch black, even the light from the distant stars blocked out by a thick layer of cloud and dust. The Imperial Army had taken quick control of the main facilities on the surface, but there was still a good amount of unrest on the part of the former rulers.

Most were quickly rounded up and taken away, hauled up the Star Destroyers in orbit for interrogation and transport to a distant prison colony. But the leader of the pirates, the man who had orchestrated the attack on Dayark and killed Barbossa’s contact in the gang, was yet to be found.

Until now.

Trinity led her group down the darkened hallway, blaster pistol gripped tightly in one hand and comlink in the other. The Star Destroyer had her sensors focused on the ground below, tracking the movements of the single lifeform that was not part of the Imperial party.

“He’s in the next room.” The voice came over her comlink, and Trinity had to hide a smile. The room had only one entrance; the pirate leader had walked himself into a trap.

“Move forward.” Trinity ordered the soldiers, and the group flanked the doorway before two men broke it down. Trinity entered first, her blaster aimed squarely at the head of the pirate. The man was smiling as she entered, and the sight of him, unarmed and simply standing there was unnerving.

“Captain Trinity. Welcome to Exocron.”

He said with a laugh.

“This is it.” She replied, tightening her grip on the blaster. “Give in. Or die. It really doesn’t matter which to me.”

“You haven’t gotten it? No… of course not.”

Time seemed to slow immeasurably as the man calmly reached into a pocket of his vest and pulled out a small blaster. His first shot took down the soldier to Trinity’s immediate left, and then she felt a searing pain in her stomach. Her blaster dropped to the floor, and her eyes clouded.

Dimly, she could hear the sound of blasters firing around her head, and the grunts of pain as the pirate collapsed. Then she was being picked up, taken away… and her vision went black.


Yaga Minor
One Week Later

“How is she?” A concerned voice asked, registering in Trinity’s half-awake mind. The room was dimly lit, obviously it was night wherever she was. The last thing she could remember was the sound of blaster fire, and the world growing dark around her. There were muddled thoughts of a man, and his mocking laughter… but it was all clouded together.

“She’ll be fine.” Another voice said. “She was lucky the blast missed her vitals, or it could have been a lot worse.”

“And the project?” There was relief in the first voice at the news.

“Moving ahead as planned. The pirates intelligence network went further than we thought. They knew something about the Project. How much, we’re not sure.”

“But they knew something.”

“Yes.”

“A good thing they’re all dead, then.”

“That’s the thing, Admiral. I’m not entirely sure they are. I think the rabbit hole goes a lot deeper than any of us realized.”

The room was silent. Trinity lay on her bed, struggling to recall exactly what had happened before she lost consciousness. The man had shot her – that much was obvious. But how had he managed to act so quickly? She remembered one of the soldiers that was with her being struck first.

How had they not cut him down before he was able to fire?

It was a riddle she turned over and over in her mind, struggling to find an answer. But as hard as she looked, as deep as she delved, there was no answer in sight.

The door to the room opened, and two figures became visible, silhouetted in the light from the corridor. One of them looked down on Trinity, concern in her dark brown eyes. The Imperial Captain recognized her, despite the sogginess of her mind, and suddenly the room snapped into focus.

“Admiral!” She mumbled. She had meant to say more, but it came out slowly, almost as if she was just waking up from a year’s deep sleep. She didn’t know how long she had been here, for that matter. It could well have been months…

“Shh. You’re all right, Trinity.” The voice said, bending over her and smiling warmly. “Your actions in the Kathol Sector have saved a lot of lives.”

“How long… have I been here?” She managed to say.

“Four days. The Firewind carried you out here after they stabilized your situation on Dayark.”

“What… happened?” The Admiral smiled.

“We’ll talk about that later. In the meantime, get some rest. You’ll be released in a week or so. I don’t expect you for duty in less than a month.”

Before Trinity could reply, Bhindi Drayson stood and left the room, closing the door and plunging it into darkness. The Captain was left to wonder what exactly the Project was. And how her actions had saved so many lives.