The Present
Bilbringi

"For the last time, freighter Etherway, you are not cleared to enter the shipyards." The irritated voice of the Bilbringi traffic controller came over the com unit. "Please retake your assigned spot within the traffic cooridor and you will be cleared when we come to you."

The freighter captain reached forward and slapped the com unit off with a disgruntled sigh. Why was it always such a pain to carry a load of cargo into Bilbringi these days? Ever since the galaxy had gone to hell in a handbasket; first that damned Death Star, then the all-out @#%$ fight between with everyone fighting everyone, and the utter destruction of the Galactic Defence Initiative. And then there was that entire Wrath virus thing, and the Soveriegn Chiss Empire trying (and failing) to smash the Mon Calamari, and their own failure, the New Order attacking those same Mon Cals, and the Holy Demosthesian Empire rolling over LFX Industrial and smashing Tholatin into the ground. Not to mention the sweeping Imperial takeovers of entire systems at a time.

No, it was certainly not the best time to be a cargo runner. Getting from Sluis Van to Bilbringi these days was like running a minefield, with no idea who put the mines there, or why, or who the hell they were intended for.

And then having to put up with pushy Bilbringi traffic controllers. Giving another sigh, the pilot brought the freighter into its assigned slot over the asteroid fiel and waited for the pushy traffic controller to get to him.


Two Weeks Ago
Imperial Ubiqtorate Base - Yaga Minor

"The High Command was impressed with your work at Tholatin, Admiral. They should be forced to divert funds to their reconstruction efforts for years to come." Trayden Locke said, a smile lingering on his aged face.

"Thank you, Sir. I was only doing my job." Bhindi replied humbly, hardly daring to hold her breath. The Battle of Tholatin - God knows what the number was, the planet had had enough assaults thrown against it to make a galactic record of it - had been hailed a victory for both sides of the conflict. The Empire had smashed it from orbit, killing thousands of their citizens and setting almost the entire world on fire. But the Jutraalians, under the command of Gash Jiren, had managed to conquer it. Or at least very nearly conquer it, anyway.

"And you are thanked for your efforts, Admiral. I have a report here from the Office of the Emperor - the Holy Demosthesian Empire has a certain... interest in the area of space known as the space bordering the Unknown Regions."

"Hardly unknown, with all the mapping everyone's been doing out there." Bhindi put in, under her breath. The man raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe so, Drayson. But old names stick, it seems. Anyway, we've sent Commodore Gernon Iroc - he's operating under Admiral Tellen for the time being - out to secure that old IDTech capital, Reecee. We want you to work with him and secure that strip of space. Fortify the planets there and give the Empire a bulwark should the Chiss attempt another assault."

"Like the Maginot Lines, then." Bhindi said, only half speaking to Locke.

"The what, Admiral? Are you sure you didn't pick anything up on Tholatin?" He asked indignantly.

"Quite sure, sir. I apologize... just a story my mother told me." She paused. What was it Godridge had been going on about at the last briefing? Some kind of alien predators...

"What about the Ssi-Ruuk, sir?" She asked, remembering the Commander's descriptions of the 5-meter-tall aliens that had reportadly been seen hanging around in the known galaxy of late.

"The who?" He asked, his temper rising now. These officers who kept questioning him!

"The Ssi-Ruuk Imperium. The aliens who attacked Bakura back, after Endor. Rumour is they're moving on space out here in the borderlands and plan on securing some of this space for themselves."

The other frowned gravely. He had heard the stories of massive alien beings attacking the Imperial base there, but there had never been any real reason to believe the stories. If they were true...

"Prevent them, Admiral." He said. "The Empire does not look kindly on theft." The hologram vanished, and Bhindi was left gazing into the empty air of the command centre's main communications pod.



One Week Ago
Imperial Ubiqtorate Base - Yaga Minor

"Bilbringi, Admiral? Are you sure the fleet is prepared for that kind of firepower? Even with the Wrath and all the other @#%$ everyone's been dealing with, Bilbringi isn't just going to crack because we want it to."

Bhindi nodded, not taking her eyes from the datapad. She knew everything contained on it all ready, ship numbers and placement for what they were calling the Ridge Confederacy, those planets that had joined Bilbringi and Reecee in forming an alliance to protect their own interests.

"The shipyards there alone are enough reason for the Ridge Confederacy to defend it to the death."

"They can't build ships there any longer." The Admiral said pointedly.

"No," Godridge admitted, "but their repair capabilities are very, very good. If I were one of them, I'd put at least a quarter my fleet there. Easy place to defend, too. The asteroid field makes navigation in and out a pain."

Bhindi nodded again, only half paying attention. Godridge was right, of course. Bilbringi was a system that the Confederacy would defend heavily. If they spread their resources out, they could probably destroy a good portion of the enemy fleet before they had to move on the shipyard world.

"Not to mentoin how much manpower we'd need to secure the place, Admiral. If we put to much effort into Bilbringi, we won't have the resources to keep it and the other worlds we take."

But that would mean sending their intentions out to everyone in the galaxy. And there were those that would certainly take advantadge of the Ridge Confederacy being tied up as it was with the Empire.

No. To strike a blow to the Confederacy, they would need to strike hard, and fast, at the head of the serpent. Bilbringi.

"We will move against Bilbringi, Commander. Cut off the head, and the body will whither."

Two Hours Ago
ISD Tyrant - Yaga Minor

The awesome wedge-shaped hull of the Imperial Star Destroyer Tyrant hovered just off the sprawling construct of the Yaga Minor Ubiqtorate Base. The Ubiqtorate base, still under construcrion by the forces of the Holy Demosthesian Empire.

The original base here had once been one of the Empire's most powerful strongholds, complete with military shipyards and enough resources to hold the entire sector. In the days of Grand Admiral Thrawn, it was one of the largest producers of capital starships in the galaxy, beside Bilbringi. And in the days prior to the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, it was the last remaining Imperial stronghold, their last remaining shipyard, and one of only two full records set left in the Empire.

These days it was far less, having been a base for the Rogue Empire at one point, and being crushed first by the New Order, and then by the Wrath Virus. They had been extorted back to the Jutraalian cause... but the Holy Demosthesian Empire had overrun them quickly enough during the war. And now, it would be returned to its standing as capital of the sector, a New Ubiqtorate Base for a New Empire.

"I still don't like this, Admiral." Commander Godridge said, striding briskly down the command walkway to stand beside Fleet Admiral Bhindi Drayson on the bridge of the Tyrant. Bhindi said nothing for a moment, staring out the ancient Action VII freighter that was the centre of this first operation. The first incursion into the Ridge Confederacy.

"We are well aware of your feelings on the matter, Commander." She said after a time, not turning from the viewports. "But rest assurred, this is our best course of action. I did not get where I am today by not making the best use of the resources I have."

Godridge nodded and turned away from the Admiral, eyes searching the Star Destroyer's bridge for the vessel's Captain. He was busy going through a list of final checks against the computer, and looked up only after a moment when he sensed the Commander's gaze, a question on his face.

"Have the Zorex bring up her cloaking device, Captain." He ordered. The Captain nodded and lifted his comlink to his mouth. Godridge turned back to the viewport and watched as the freighter brought up its cloaking device... and nothing happened.

"Excellent, Captain." Bhindi said, smiling thinly and turning from the viewports. "Very good, indeed. Prepare the Zorex to move out, and prep my shuttle." She turned to Godridge, her smile growing. "It is time we pay a visit to some reluctant members."

Godridge gave a nod and lifted his own comlink, preparing to issue the orders, but a hand pushed the device away, and he turned away from the starscape to see the ship's captain already issuing the orders.

"A fine officer, Captain Joda." She said quietly. "Most skilled in what he does." Godridge nodded, not daring himself to speak. There were few who were not aware of the rivalry between himself and the Captain, but it seemed to him that Joda was always trying to undermine him and his authority. Never mind that he did in fact outrank the Commander while on-ship, Godridge was the personal aide to the Fleet Admiral! He demanded respect... didn't he?

Irritably pushing those thoughts out of his head, he offered a nod to Bhindi's statement and followed her as she swept from the bridge, leaving the Tyrant in Captain Joda's more than capable hands.

There was a job to do, and a mission to be fullfilled. And, Godridge throught to himself, an Empire to carve.




The Present
Shuttle Ironz - Hyperspace

"Did the reports specify the extent of the defensiv makeup?" Godridge asked, shaking his head as he turned it from the blue hyperspace tunnel outside the viewport.

"Not specifically, no." Bhindi conceeded, taking a sip from the glass she held. "They claimed that at least a quarter - maybe a third - of the Ridge Confederacy's fleet is there, rotated on a monthly basis so everyone has some time for shore leave, I guess."

"Shore leave?" Godridge said, puzzled. "On a defence fleet?" The Admiral shrugged.
"They said that each crewman gets a week of shore leave while they're deployed to Bilbringi."
"So they're running under-crewed?"
"That, or they just empty a few ships at a time and send their crews to the surface."

Godridge whistled.

"Risky business, if you ask me. I wouldn't want to strip the Tyrant down and have someone attack her, that's for certain."

"That's why the Empire doesn't do shore leave that way."
"And why the Empire will triumph over this 'Ridge Confederacy'. Any idea where the name comes from, anyway?"

Bhindi nodded, taking another sip of her drink. "Apparently, the planet Rishi was involved in a pretty nasty Civil War a couple centuries back. Lots of bloodshed, the Republic medeators that got sent were killed or captured, or else scared off by some of the fighters. Anyway, they say that the last battle was fought at a place called the Rishi Ridge. It was a stronghold of some kind, because the battle was defensive for one side. A couple hundred thousand people died there, including the leaders of both sides. It was, incidently, those ones who had started the war. Both sides decided to call it quits, and these days the Ridge is some kind of landmark/holy site to them."

"You mentioned Republic medeators. Jedi Knights?" Godridge asked. Bhindi nodded.
"There was one called Arra San, and another called Yuoa Zen. There were probably more, but those were the ones whose names I could find. Records of the Old Jedi Order have been tough to find."

"That's to be expected, what with the putting down of knowledge of the Jedi and the Emperor hunting them all down."

Before the Admiral could respond, a voice broke through the cabin.

"Admiral, we're approaching Bilbringi. Reversion will be in five minutes, Ma'am."

The intercom clicked off, and Bhindi smiled.

"Time to pay a visit to our non-Imperial friends."

The Present
Bilbringi

The singular shuttlecraft, a Sinear Corporation Lambda Class Shuttle, by appearence, entered the Bilbringi system on the same course as the freighter Etherway, falling out of hyperspace to find itself screaming towards the rear of that ship.

"Shit!" One of the pilots yelled, pulling his ship out of its dive, struggling with the bucking controls as the ship was caught in the ion wash of the much larger freighter.

Alarms were blaring through the cockpit, and the co-pilot snatched at a button, shutting them down and swearing as the ship dodged the Etherway, and found itself bearing down on an even larger superfreighter.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Bhindi shouted, entering the cockpit, bracing her slender frame between the doorframe.

"This place is in chaos!" The co-pilot replied, not daring to take his eyes from the sensor screen as the pilot rolled the shuttle past the superfreighter and, finally, into the clear.

The com was crackling with half a dozen messages, all yelling obcenities at each other. But one of them had superceeded the others, coming in over the main channel in a gruff, angry voice.

"Shuttle Ironz, this is Bilbringi Port Authority. Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" Bhindi, stepping out the doorway, keyed the com and said lightly, "BPA, this is Admiral Bhindi Drayson of the Holy Demosthesian Empire. We're here to see a Mister Renolds about-"
"I don't give a flying mynock which Empire you hail from, Admiral," he said the last word with a sneer. "You just came in on the exit route. There are hyperlanes here for a reason-"

Bhindi snapped the com off, swearing to herself.

"Get us down. Renolds said there would be a landing slot on private apartment docks."

Behind the shuttle, having entered the system along the proper flight plans in the wake of the Zorex, were two invisible Twilight Gunships, cruising forward now to flank the Ironz.



Renolds, who had met the Imperial party in their landing bay, turned out to be a portly man adorned in very expensive finery. He was obviously a man used to living the high life, and used to being in charge. When the shuttle set down and discouraged its passengers, Bhindi Drayson, clad in her usual white bodysuit and similarly-coloured cape, blaster strapped to her waste, and Commander Godridge, who could have been her exact opposite with his matte-black uniform and proudly displayed badges of rank clipped to his chest, the contact stepped forward, offering a hand to each of the Imperials in turn.

Both refused, and at a silent mutual agreement, they both stepped forward, forcing Renolds to jog into his place beside Godridge. Bhindi, noticing the assumption on the man's part that Godridge was in charge and shelving it for later, said nothing, but continued walking as the man spoke.

"I'm quite happy you could make it to Bilbringi this day, Commander. The President has been more than eager to speak with you on a matter that he says is very important to the future of the Confederacy."

Godridge only nodded, both of the Imperials remaining silent as the man led them through a maze of cooridors until they came to a set of wooden doors. Bhindi glanced around, searching for the hidden holocam or microphone that would be used to open the doors. She spotted it, nestlted inside the carver letter 'O' in the phrase - written in some language she didn't recognize - above the doorway, just as they swung open, propelled by two soldiers.

Imperial Stormtroopers, in full armour.

She gasped, then caught herself and offered a respecftul nod to the two. They could not be true Stormtroopers of the Empire - there was no report she had seen of an Imperial presence in this system. But yet...

She and Godridge were ushering into the room, and even as she looked around for their guide she realized that Renolds had vanished, slipping away into one of the ajoining rooms, no doubt.

Standing before them was a man, dressed in a pale blue sport jacket and simple black slacks. He wore an expression of forced hapiness, easily apparent even to the untrained eye of the Imperial Admiral.

"President Hurron, I presume?" She said, offering a low bow. Godridge said nothing, but did likewise. The man offered a nod, then smiled and stepped forward, extending a hand. This time, Bhindi shook it.

"Yes, Admiral. I am President Hurron. And you, of course, are Fleet Admiral Bhindi Drayson. And Commander Godridge, pleased to meet you." He said, turning to the other Imperial and shaking his hand. Godridge said nothing, but gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

"To business, if you please, President Hurron." Bhindi pushed, taking the offered seat. And they talked.



They were reaching the point of their discussion, now, the President evidently pleased so far with their progress.

"I would not be concerned that your Empire has come within spitting distance of Bilbringi," He was saying.

"Even with your world's position along the border with the Unknown Regions? This is quite a fortress to defend with, should the Chiss ever choose to come inside the known galaxy again."

"An impossibility, Admiral." Hurron replied, smirking a bit now. "The Sovereign Chiss Empire is dead, their Emperor Xilen missing or dead, Lord knows which, not that its a bad thing. The Chiss lack the rescoures or will to come inside the galaxy again."

"And the Ssi-Ruuk? What of them?" Bhindi said, her tone challening, prompting the other man for an answer.

He paused, feigning a need to remember who or what the Ssi-Ruuk were.
"The Ssi-Ruuk are of little consequence. They would have no interest in your Empire, unless you get in their way."

Or unless they get in ours... She thought gravely.

"Perhaps so, President. None the less... what is to stop us from simply siezing this system in the name of the Emperor?"

"We will fight." The other said simply. "I doubt even your Empire can afford now to battle another enemy, not after that fiasco of a loss at Thyferra."

He smirked, knowing full well that he had hit a chord with that comment.

"We recovered from Thyferra, and we can recover from whatever you throw at us."

"Ah, but that is where you're wrong. Your Empire - any Empire - relies on trade to survive. Without the infusion of local trade, your economy whithers and dies."

"What prevents us from taking what we need?"

"Politics. Bilbringi does not look kindly upon incursions into our space. A single battleship enters any of our systems - any of them - and we destroy those supplies to keep them from your hands."

Bhindi shrugged.

"Why do you believe we rely on Bilbringi? Sluis Van is equally as major a trading port - probably moreso - that Bilbringi. They have proved adequete at supplying our needs."

"Sluis Van if halfway across the galaxy."

There was a pause, and then the com unit chirped and a voice came from it.

"Mr. President. We've just recieved word of a transport vessel - the Zorez, registered to the Holy Demosthesian Empire. There's a fleet coming in behind it, too."

The President clapped, smiling fully now.

"You see! Your Empire needs us, Admiral. They need us as they need Bilbringi."

Bhindi shrugged.

"Rebels and traitors. They should be destroyed, or worse." She turned to Godridge.

"No!" The President called. "That fleet will remain as our guests. My guests."

"As you wish, Mr. President."

There was another chirp, and the comlink spoke again.

"Mr. President, there is a Star Destroyer in the system! Markings indicate a Holy Demosthesian vessel!"

"Mobilize defences! Get all ships under the protective shields!" Bhindi hid her smile as the wall panels - changing from their landscapes and vistas to tactical displays, showed the planet's energy shields sizzling to life, the transports ducking under it, and settling across the planet proper and the overhead space platforms.

Swarms of ships were leaving the planet's orbit to engage the Tyrant as it came forward, starfighters and light cruisers.

Any second now...

And in an insant, the rest of the fleet arrived. A fully arrayed Imperial battle group, another Star Destroyer joining the Tyrant, and a sentry screen of cruisers and gunships spreading out to engage the Bilbringi defences.

The suddenness of the arrivals stunned the defenders, the ships now hurling towards an enemy that did not out number them, but certainly outgunned them. And the Imperial craft were newer, better kept despite the infamous work of the Bilbringi shipyards, and had been drilled in this defence. The Bilbringi defenders stood no chance.

"You see, Mr. President? What we need, we can take. You cannot stop us. Nor can your Ridge Confederacy."

"You cannot possibly win!" He sputtered, spinning between the two Imperials, still calmly sitting where they had been moments earlier, and the tactical displays that showed the defenders taking a pounding from the Star Destroyers.

"We can hold off whatever bombardment-" He stopped cold as the displays flickered, and the blue haze of the energy shields vanished. And he understood.

Outside, the transports, loaded with bombs, had smashed into the planet's defensive array. The shield generators over the capital were aflame now, their protective energy cones collapsed.

Bilbringi was open for the taking...

Minutes Ago
Hyperspace

"Reversion in ten seconds, Captain." The voice of a young ensign called up from the crew pit. Joda, Captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer Tyrant nodded, a tight smile forming on his lips.

"Thank you, ensign. Tactical, shields to full on my mark. Likewise guns. Prepare our fighters for launch as soon as we come out of hyperspace."

There was a chorus of acknowledgements as the Star Destroyer - the most powerful and feared lineship in the Holy Demosthesian Empire - began to deaccelerate, the blue tunnel of hyperspace subsiding and being replaced by the points of stars in the distance.

And much closer than that...

"Sensors?" Joda called, surveying the scene through the viewports. The Bilbringi shipyards were spread out before them, freighters of all shapes and sizes lined up around them.

But even as the Star Destroyer appeared, those ships were moving, diving full-force towards the surface of the planet. Bilbringi was raising its shields, and the pilots would be damned if they'd be on the outside of them.

"Enemy defences are mobilizing, Captain. We're getting readings on two dozen capital starships - mostly under five hundred meters, so far."

The transport rush had entered the energy shields now, the ships either setting down across the planet or simply hovering where they were, waiting for the conclusion of the battle.

"And our transports?"

"In position, sir. Estimating three minutes until they commence operations."

Joda nodded. All was proceeding as planned.

"Transmission from the Bilbringi Fleet Commander, sir. Shall I patch him through?"

"Please, Lieutenant." There was a pause, and then the voice of the Bilbringi duty officer came over the bridge com unit.

"Imperial warship, this is Major-General Tohmas Kreff of the Bilbringi Defence Fleet. You are in violation of Ridge Confederacy space and are hereby ordered to leave immediatly. You have one minute to begin a visible withdrawal before we open fire..."

And in that moment, the Devestator arrived with her support fleet. The ships spread in front of the twin Star Destroyers, a dozen and a half again Corellian Gunships, and a third as many Republic Belarus Cruisers.

And the Star Destroyers began launching fighters, TIE Defenders and tiny, robotic TIE Raptors.

"Reponse, sir?" One of the officers asked softly, watching in awe as the new arrivals formed up with the Tyrant and the entire armada began their slow, almost painful, advance towards the planet.

"None." Joda responded, smiling thinly. "Let the Admiral carry our words to their President. All batteries, commence firing."

The fleet had reached the enemy lines now, and almost as one the two Star Destroyers began to fire.



The Present
Bilbringi

"You see, Mr. President? What we need, we can take. You cannot stop us. Nor can your Ridge Confederacy."

"You cannot possibly win!" He sputtered, spinning between the two Imperials, still calmly sitting where they had been moments earlier, and the tactical displays that showed the defenders taking a pounding from the Star Destroyers.

"We can hold off whatever bombardment-" He stopped cold as the displays flickered, and the blue haze of the energy shields vanished. And he understood.

The first squad of shock troopers entered through the main doorways, picking off the guards that the President had posted and forcing the grand wooden doors apart with a shaped charge.

The soldiers, in their heavy black armour, spread throughout the room, ignoring the terrified President, who offered only a feeble protest as the soldiers took their positions.

One of them, a double red bar circling his forarm armour, approached the small group and saluted.

"Position secured, Admiral." He reported in his mechanicalized voice, the result of the helmet unit he wore. Similar in theory to Imperial Stormtroopers, the Imperial Special Forces - SpecForce - were the elite military units the Holy Demosthesian Empire had to offer. Equipped with heavy-duty armour and top of the line heavy blasters, a squad of them was expected to be able to take a location with minimal effort.

Their deployment was top secret, even their existance nearly nothing more than a myth to the officers of the fleet. But with the Ironz having a maximum occupancy of twenty passengers, they were the only real option.

And they had, as expected, performed admirably.

Bhindi gave the trooper a small nod.
"Very good, soldier. The Tyrant's detachment of regular forces will be arriving shortly. I want you to reinforce this position and await their arrival - I doubt we'll have to deal with any other threats," she cast a glance to the President, who was still huddled in his chair, "but one can never be to sure."

The soldier saluted again and backed away, already directing his men to their proper positions.



"Status of the fleet, ensign?" Captain Joda asked, surveying the battle through the panaramic viewports of the Star Destroyer Tyrant. The Bilbringi defenders were fighting hard, but it wouldn't be enough. That much was apparent. Two of the opposing ships were flaming off to one side, an ancient, battle scarred Dreadnought that had entered the fray late and exited nearly as fast, and a far smaller, though decades newer, Loronar Strike Class Cruiser.

"We've lost one of our sentry ships, Captain, and CG101 is reporting that they've lost bow shields and two of their turbolasers. Even as the officer spoke there was a flash outside the viewports as another salvo of turbolaser fire erupted against the unshielded bow of the ship in question, melting back hull plating and exposing bulkheads. The losses were insignificant, but Captain Joda did not like them. Any loss under his command, any loss to the Empire, bothered him.

"Pull CG101 and CG88 back. Move," he glanced down at his tactical display, searching for a ship close enough to fill the new gap in his sentry line, "move Harrier eighteen degrees to the left and push a sqaudron of Defenders up into the centre of that formation."

There was an acknowledgement and Joda allowed himself a moment to relax into the command chair. That should hold the enemy off from engaging his Star Destroyer directly. And even if it did not, the Tyrant was more than capable of handling what remained of this pitiful opposition.

Outside the viewports the two damaged Corellian Gunships were back, moving efficiently out of the battle despite the damage. That was, apparently, not enough for some of the enemy, however. Seeing the retreating vessels and taking it as a sign of weakness, a sqaudron of mixed Holwrunner and Cloakshape fighters, and three decripit looking Skipray Blastboats that could have been assigned to the first Death Star, bolted through the temporary gap in the sentry line, buzzing past the blazing batteries of a Blearus cruiser and loosing two of their number in the process, they opened fire with lasers and missiles at the gunships.

To their credit, the damaged vessels held out against the first salvo quite well. But it was evident that even despite their outdated machines, the defenders were going to destroy the two ships, unless Captain Joda did something. And soon.

"Recall the Defenders!" He shouted, rising from his chair and looking, face drawn with alarm, at the enemy starfighters. "Delta qaudrant!"

The fighters, hovering in defensive positions near the Harrier, broke away, their twin ion engines carrying them with alarming speed towards the Bilbringi ships. They fired from maximum range with lasers, and half a dozen of the enemy craft fell with the first pass. But it was already to late for one of the Gunships; the craft was falling, spewing flames from its engine compartments and shaking off escape pods like a dog shaking off flees.

Captain Joda watched it for a moment, the anger evident on his face. When he spoke next, his voice was cold.
"Advance the fleet. Destroy those bastards. All of them."



With the Bilbringi defence fleet defeated in orbit and the orbital control station captured by the sqaudron of Imperial Special Forces, the rest of the planet was quick to fall.

By the time the Ironz had returned to the hanger bay of the Tyrant, army transports were settling across the planet's surface and discourging their own soldiers into the cities, setting up a handful of garrisons in the capital proper and, for the time being anyway, instating Holy Demosthesian Military Rule.

President Hurron, along with his group of aides, was granted a pardon of sorts, and sent on the defence fleet's last flight-capable ship, and ancient Carrack Class Light Cruiser, to inform the other members of the Confederacy of the devestating loss of Bilbringi and the destruction of the entire defence fleet.

It would be only a matter of time, naturally, until the Confederacy realized that the Empire would not be appeased with merely controlling Bilbringi, and strike again.

"What do you think, Commander?" Bhindi said, turning away from the wide transpirsteel viewports of the Star Destroyer. "The Bilbringi defences are destroyed, the shipyards belong to us-" She paused, a slight smile forming, "-and our soldiers on the surface assure me that the pacification is 'on schedule'."

Godridge took a moment to respond, looking down at the planetary body below. At this moment, he knew, soldiers would be taking their places on street corners and inside buildings, setting up the city in what ammounted to a seige of sorts while the Star Destroyers ferried down the materials required to constuct a more permenent base.

"I'd say all has gone well, Admiral. Word has even gotten to High Command." He pulled a datacard from the pocket of his uniform and held it out.

"What, already?" She reached out and took the datcard, inserting it carefully into her datapad and scrolling through its contents.

"Word travels fast out here, it seems. What's on there?" Bhindi smiled.

"A 'personal congratulations' from the Emperor. And authorization to continue as planned." She paused, then smiled a bit. "And," she added, "news. From Major Driff."

Maginot Lines: Part II
Birds of Prey

The Past
Republic Naval School - Coruscant

"Can someone tell me the tactical importance of the planet Ord Mantell?"

The professor, a blading man with a slight limp (a result, no doubt, of some battle with the Empire over the years), asked, looking at the faces of his students and waiting for an answer. The students in this class were supposed to be smart, the ones who had scored the highest on their entrance tests. They were also, for the most part, children of the upper-class, those who would be expected to serve as Admirals and command fleets while the true brains the Republic Navy went on to command Gunships under their rich peers.
A tentative hand rose into the air, wavering slightly to gain the professor's attention.

"Yes?"

"Ord Mantell is a hyperspace crossroads. It stands along two of the major trading routes in the northern quadrant," the speaker paused, considering for a moment, before going on, "it also provides a Bulwark should the Chiss, or someone else living in their space, attempt another invasion."

The Professor nodded.

"Very good. Would you agree then, that Rishi serves a similar purpose?"

The speaker was silent, and after an inquisitive look from the professor, sighed.

"I've never heard of Rishi, sir."

* * * * *

"I'd never even heard of the place before you brought it up, Admiral. I'll be damn if I know anything about it."

Bhindi sighed, settling comfortably into the airmchair beside the viewport. Rishi, it turned out, was a relitively unknown planet to most of the galaxy. But it did happen to be located along the same astroligical plane as Bilbringi, and it had been deemed a suitable target for the next phase of their mission.

"Rishi is a relitively unihabited planet, unimportant, really. They don't export anything, don't produce any great warships. They're civilized enough, but they keep to themselves and aren't overly fond of off-worlders. The colonists are forced to live in a handful of congested valleys, each maybe 150 kilometres long. How they ended up as part of this Ridge Confederacy, much less leading it, is beyond me."

Commander Godridge offered a nod. He was used to these little speels by now. Half the time the Admiral was simply speaking for her own benefit, not even paying attention to Godridge's presence. He had learned that Bhindi Drayson often went on for hours about things like these, brainstorming ideas and attacks and counterattacks. There was little doubt that she was a brilliant commander, Godridge had watched as she singlehandidly held off an overwhelming enemy force at Tholatin for the better part of day.

That little stunt had earned her the command of the New Imperial Ubiqtorate Base out at Yaga Minor, deep within Imperial space.

Now, sitting in the command quarters of her Star Destroyer, Godridge watched for the second time in as many weeks as she planned to utterly destroy an entire alliance to gain the ends of the Empire. There were none would could say that Bhindi Drayson was not totally and utterly comitted to the cause. But in the last weeks, a tear had been forming in the fabric between High Command and Bhindi. Her conversations with the High Command had become more tense, more formal. Even her stunning victory at Bilbringi, the addition of the planet's full rack of resources and its mighty shipyard facilities to the Empire's power, was virtually ignored back on Commenor.

It was almost as if she had become so independent, so adapt at these missions, that the Empire considered her a threat. And, Godridge had begun to realize, she had started to take action to prevent a counter-assault from Commenor. Those few who could say that she was not as loyal as the average man would think certainly could not deny that she was prepared, for every eventuality.

Yaga Minor had been stripped of its usual staff, its soldiers deployed across the Empire. Those who had been forced out of Thyferra, most loyal to their Admiral, had been recalled, and (Godridge realized, now), the Ubiqtorate Base was almost entirely run by soldiers who had sworn allegiance to Drayson.

"The Tyrant should be able to hand the Rishi defence fleet by itself," Bhindi was saying, apparanetly ignorant of Godridge's lack of attention. More likey she was talking to herslef again, "but I thought we'd send along her support fleet as well, just in case they get smart and do something unexpected."

She paused, waiting for a response from Godridge. When he didn't reply, she reached over and tapped him on the arm.

"Commander?" Snapping from his reprieve, the officer looked around frantically, finally seeing Bhindi sitting there and realizing where he was.

"I'm sorry, Admiral. I seem to have tuned out. What were you saying?" Bhindi scowled, but let the insult pass. Godridge was a compitent commander, sure enough, and seemed to come up with some startlingly brilliant stuff during his little respites from reality.

"I was considering the liberation of Rishi," she said carefully. "It occurs to me that we may not need to fight the Ridge Confederacy at all. The loss of Bilbringi has left them hanging - the citizens even more so than their govenment. A little bit of careful manipulation there, and the Rishi will practically be begging the Empire to come in and save them."

* * * * *

A pair of nondescript transport craft, unmarked intelligence craft from the Tyrant, settled carefully into their assigned landing spots on the surface of Rishi. Each ship was a sharp contract to the other, the first being a large, saucer-shaped Corellian design, painted a glossy silver that must have been done ages ago (but in fact had been aplied that very morning and gone over, several times, with judicuous use of a sander). The other was smaller, a ship obviously designed as a personal transport with speed in mind. This vessel was sleek and black, aerdynamic despite the uselessness of that in space. It's elongated neck and extended 'head' gave the appearence of a bird of prey in flight.

The spaceport was almost desserted at this time. Rishi was, as the report had said, nearly abandoned. This, Rift City, was the planet's largest city, and its population numbered just under 800 000. It would be easy to turn the pitiful population of this dump to the Empire's cause.

"The bantha crows at dawn." One of the intel men asked, approaching the dark-clad man with his datapad drawn and aimed as if it were a blaster.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Dev?" The other replied humourlessly, his hand resting carefully on the but of his holstered blaster.

"You know, 'the bantha crows at dawn'. It's the codeword. Now, what's the countercode?" The dark-clad man shook his head.

"Shut up, Drev." He said.

"Sorry, wrong answer." Drev said, now thumbing the transmit button on his datapad madly. With a sigh, the dark-clad man activated his own unit and set it to recieve the other's transmission. "Or maybe you're net really Tek-" He caught himself, almost saying the man's true name out loud.

"How in God's name did I get stuck with an idiot like you on my team?" The man asked, glancing down at the file. "You know anything about local customs?"

Drev shrugged, his standard answer to his partner's sarcaism. "Just what's on the datapad. Not much, I'm afraid. They don't like people running repulsorlifts before nine in the morning and they aren't crazy about blasters, either."

The dark-clad figure uttered a low curse. They had a pair of swoops in the hold of the larger ship, but if they couldn't run them at night...

"It's going to limit out night-ops." Drev said, as if reading the other man's thoughts. "We'll have to come up with something more efficient that swoops."

"Clearly. Well, there's nothing for it, I guess. We've got to get moving, the sun should be going down soon and I don't want to have to navigate this place at night our first time out."

Drev chuckled.

"Afraid of getting lost, Tekkie?" The other swore.
"No. I'm afraid of getting mugged by some son of a bitch who thinks he's king of the night and having our cover blown. We don't know this place, so we're gonna have to be careful."
"Sure, whatever Tek. Just get the equipment offloaded."
"And where are you going?" Drev smiled.
"I've got to report back to the Admiral. See you in fifteen minutes.

Tek stood their a minute, swore uselessly under his breath at Drev's back, and then turned back to the freighter. The bastard was right. They did have a mission to do.

* * * * *

"Drev's team has reported in, Admiral." Godridge said, stepping lightly onto the bridge of the Tyrant. Distantly visible through the forward viewports, the tiny speck that ws Rishi was visible. "Their in place."

"Excellent, Commander. Keep me informed." She said, still gazing out at the tiny speck of light.

Soon...

"Undermine the authority of the local government." He said into the darkened room. "Destroy the people's faith in that authority figure, and they'll welcome your liberators with open arms." The figure pasued, smiling into the darkness. "Uueg Tching once said, 'There are three ways to defeat your enemy. The first, and most obvious, is to better him a trial of force. The best way is to have him destroy himself... The middle way is to destroy your enemy from within. Judicious application of the middle way shall make your blows more effective if you later take the way of force. From the middle way it is also possible to push your enemy onto the path of self destruction.'"

"What the hell are you talking about, Drev?" The other replied, irritated. Setting the datapad aside, Drev leaned back in the chair and turned to the other man.
"Standard pre-invasion school of thought. We're here to break the foundation of the Rishi government, right? We do so by undermining the authority they have, breaking the people's faith in them. By the time the Admiral gets here with the fleet, they'll practically be begging us to come and save them."

"Not if the government does something about it. They must have armed forces, something, to quell an uprising. Something like this could never happen on an Imperial world."
Drev smiled.
"Exactly. That's because the Empire has the strength to go against the will of the people, for their own good. The collective masses are foolish, at times, Tek. They call it mob mentality - when a group becomes so absorbed in whatever they're doing that they loose sight of what they're doing, why they're there.
"But the government here is weak. This is a democracy, they have to follow the will of the people. And if the people want the Empire to take control here..."

Tek nodded.

"Then they have no choice. Their own constitution prevents them from taking action." He said, understanding.
"And if they did, then it would be all the excuse the Empire needs to round them up and ship them off to some God-forskaen penal colony for the next hundred years."
"Thank god for alien government policies, eh Drev?"
"I wouldn't say alien so much, Tek. The New Republic had a history of human leaders - Mon Mothma, Leia Organa Solo, and they all followed the same leadership style."

The other man laughed.

"Well, we all know where the New Republic is now, don't we?"
"Exactly. The dynamics of Republic and Democratic sociology simply do not work. The Old Republic fell because of it, and the New one went likewise.
"And all the while, the New Order, the Empire, held strong. Because they do not follow such pitiful examples of mob mentality in leaders."



"Latest report from Rishi, Admiral." Godridge said. Bhindi turned, slowly, almost reluctantly, from the bridge viewports to face the Commander. "Nothing unsual or out of place on the planet, considering the situation." She nodded.

"Thank you, Commander. Have our scouts filed their report yet?" Drev didn't say anything, but reached into the pocket of his uniform and drew out a datapad, and began punching up the information. After he moment, he closed the top of the device and nodded.

"Likewise, nothing unsual in the system. Though they do say that the Space Defence Forces have been very active of late. Cancellation of all shore leaves, lots of supplies being shuttled up to their ships. Looks like their setting in for a seige. There was also a report of a pair of Loronar Strike Class Cruisers moving into the system earlier this morning."

"That could complicate things." She said, running both hands through her hair and sighing lightly.
"Admiral?"
"According to Intel, the Ridge Confederacy's government travels aboard a Strike Class Cruiser. If they've moved their capital to Rishi, Drev and his team are going to have a harder time convincing the locals to shrug off their rule."



"Second standard pre-invasion rule of thumb." Drev said, eyeing the new arrivals carefully. Three days on this planet had taught him more than enough to get by about local customs. These outlying planets were all the same, and he had seen enough in his day to know the customs of most of them better than he knew his own homeworld's. "The farther away you are from the seat of government, the better." He added a curse, just for good measure, and handed the electrobinoculars to Tek.

Sure enough, the two Strike Cruisers that had just set down were discourging important-looking officials and enough computers and other equipment to fill a very large base of operations.

"Any idea where they'll be setting up?" Drev asked, checking his datapad for the city map. He had memorized it, of course, but it was always easier to look at an object than to recall it from memory.

"If both of those cruisers are full of equipment, the local building isn't going to be big enough." He paused, lowering the electrobinoculars. "I'd say the Windhom Hotel. They've got enough space, between those suites and the conference chambers."

Drev nodded thoughfully.

"Probably be setting up some tight security around the place, then."
"Yup. Better get there quick, I guess."
"Indeed."

Without another word the two returned to their landspeeder. Thankfully it was late enough in the day that the locals wouldn't be to upset over the repulsorlifts. The trouble with Rishi was, Drev thought as he pulled the craft onto one of the main - and nearly desserted - streets, was that the locals always looked at the landspeeders with a mix of interest and distaste. The city had a complex series of skytrains and subways, but all of those could be stopped with ease, and the only real option for a pair of Imperial agents up to no good was a landspeeder. But that always seemed to draw undue attention, the shabbier and more beaten the vehicle was the more attention it got.

Ah, well. The time would come soon when local customs regarding landspeeders would be the least of their troubles.
Smiling outwardly, Drev piloted the vehicle towards the hotel.

"Have you seen this?" Bhindi Drayson demanded, tossing a datapad onto the table with a loud clunk. Startled, Commander Godridge looked up from his briefing and took the datapad. Displayed across the screen was the image of a building, burning, and a short news article descriping the fire, which had only been described as an 'electrical fault'.

"Our two agents at work?" He asked carefully, still not entirely sure about what mood the Admiral was in. She nodded.
"Looks that way. It screams of Drev's usual subtlety." Godridge chuckled. If anything, Drev was a compitent agents, but his methods tended to be rather... explosive.
"No doubt we'll have their report soon enough." He said. Bhindi smiled.
"As a matter of fact..." She indicated the datapad. "Code Rogue Angel Seven." Typing in the proper authorization, he laughed again.
"Definately Drev. 'Rishi officials will quickly realise the act was arson.'"

He paused.

"Sounds like they have something planned to happen before they figure out it was arson, doesn't it?"
"That would certainly be the sort of thing Drev would do. Get them all concerned over this fire, then blow something up. And then they figure out that the fire wasn't accidental and start getting worried."
Godridge nodded.
"And so do the citizens. It should be interesting to see how they respond after Drev pulls whatever his next move is."
"I'm sure they'll be appropriately fearful for their very lives." She responded, only half joking. Drev and Tek had a reputation within the Empire for... extravagent techniques.
"Fear keeps the local systems in line." Godridge have quoted. Bhindi, though, nodded.
"Precisely, Commander. Not outright force, but fear of force. Remember the Death Star, the destruction of Alderaan?"
"Who couldn't? The Rebellion was playing it for years to flout the injustice of the Empire."
"Yes, Commander. And they also say that that act brought a thousand systems over their cause."

Godridge didn't reply for a moment. When he did, his voice was slow, measured.

"You say that, Admiral," he said, "like it didn't do just that."
"Not exactly, no. But they overplay it. They claim it brought a thousand systems firmly behind the Rebellion. But it didn't! I gave the Rebels the sympathy of a thousand systems, a feeling of injustice. But those systems were to afraid to make their loyalties openly known. For fear that what happened to Alderaan would happen to them."
"Until the Rebels blew up the Death Star, and killed Grand Moff Tarkin."
"Yes. Many of the systems that had Rebel leanings did openly join them after the Battle of Yavin. But that's not the point, Commander. The Death Star inspired fear. Those systems were afraid to help the Rebellion. And that fear is what made the earliest days of the Rebellion so difficult."
"The threat of force." Godridge said.
"With a calculated presence of force to drive the fear home. The Rebellion nearly retreated from Endor when the second Death Star destroyed one of their cruiser.
"It's all about fear, Commander."



"How did it go?" Drev asked, looking up from the holoscreen that was still showing the smouldering Windhom Hotel. Their little trick with the wiring back in the kitchen had worked wonders, and it seemed the authorities hadn't yet had a chance to discover the bodies of the three cooks they had had to kill. Or, at least, not yet discovered the blaster burns on them. That was understandable, given the force of the explosion the fire had set off. To all accounts, it looked like nothing more than a tragic and deadly mistake in the kicthens.

And by the time they find out anything to the contrary...

"Fine." Tek reported, peeling off the dark grey overcoat had had been wearing and settling into one of the overstuffed chairs near the fire. "They didn't suspect a thing."

Tek's mission had been simple, even juvenile. He had spent the better part of the night collecting rocks and hurling them through the windows of various schools and government offices. The government, naturally, would assume that it was simply a bunch of teenagers making havoc.

Drev smiled at that. This plan, which followed what he called his three-tier pre-invasion assault, was his baby. Start with minor irritants, thrown rocks, grafiti, vandilism, shake the faith of the people in their leaders' ability to protect their planet. Step two, move onto more major assaults, muggings and robberies, beatings and auto theft. Get the people thinking its a crime wave, and have them cower in fear while their govenment is powerless to end the crisis. Step three involved getting downright dirty, bombings of government agencies, riots, and murders. Once the people saw their government powerless to protect their selves, much less their citizens, they would panic.

And then, when the fleet showed up, they would welcome them with open arms. It was an open-and-shut, textbook pre-invasion theorium. All that remained was to pull it off.

"Anything new with the hotel fire?" Tek asked, gazing at the muted holoscreen with interest. The fire itself had been put out mere hours ago, and the footage now seemed to be focused on the damage. Drev shrugged and hit the mute button, activating the units sound once more.

"...reports from the Ridge Confederacy government that they had planned to move their seat of power into the Windhom Hotel, at least temprorarily, while a more suitable location is found. As a result, there has been some question as to whether or not the fire was purposefully caused in order to send a message to the government, or perhaps to weaken them further in preperation for an assault..."

Drev cliked the unit off and cursed.

"Do you think they suspect anything?" Tek asked cautiously, not moving.
"No. Not yet. It'll take them three days at least to dig up any evidence that it was intentional." Drev shrugged. "By then, it'll be to late. They're trying to smoke us out. After tonight, they'll reiterate those comments. See if we stop, then they'll have their proof."
"So we keep going." Drev nodded, a smile lingering on his face.
"We keep going."

"I think," Drev said, stealing a quick glance out the room's only window, "that they've found us." Tek nodded silently, fitting a cloth cover to end of the Xerrol Nightstinger he held. Outside were perhaps a dozen heavily armed Rishi infantry soldiers, military men, obviously, and twice as many of the planet's HTST - High Threat Security Team, dressed in their traditional yellow and brown uniforms.

And, of course, the two repulsortanks that hovered in the background. Lightly armed, but easily enough to level the small house in a matter of minutes.

"Does that Nightstinger have enough power to punch through the armour on those tanks?" Drev asked, making sure his blaster was secured to his waste and hefting one of the heavier weapons from its storage rack behind the hidden wall pannel.

"Doubtful." Tek replied, double-checking the weapon's power supply and aiming over Drev's head, out the window. "Not with only five shots, anyway." Of the thousands, maybe even millions, of different types of blasters in existance in the galaxy, the Xerrol Nightstinger was perhaps one of the most fascinating. Useful for only five shots per canister, and with each canister costing well over one thousand credits, they were rare and hard to come by. But they had the distinct ability to fire an invisible bolt. Useful, to say the least, for anyone in Drev and Tek's line of work.

"Fine, fine. Just make sure you take out their commanders. Then we can drop and run." Tek nodded, laying the Nightstinger down on table and checking, again, the charge on his rifle. Satisfied, he placed it next to the Xerrol and nodded.

"Ready?" Drev nodded, placing the scope of the rifle to his eye and aiming carefully at the window of the first tank in line. With a softer-than-usual blast for a blaster rifle, the Nightstinger dropped the foremost HTST man. A fraction of a second later, Drev sent his weapon's deadly beams lancing towards the first tank, and was satisfied to see one, perhaps two, penetrate the enemy armour. With a resounding crash, the tank exploded, and Tek dropped his last enemy with another invisible bolt.

And then, both popping power packs out of their guns and letting them fall to dangle on shoulder straps, they primed a half a dozen thermal detonators each and let them fall to the floor. Within sixty seconds, they were gone, screaming away in a tiny landspeeder, leaving the scarmbling defenders and the fireball that was rapidally expanding from where the house had been.



Fleet Admiral Bhindi Drayson stepped onto the bridge, dark eyes taking in the scene with casual scrutiny. The ship's officers were engaged in some idle chit-chat. Not entirely acceptable by the strictist of standards, but certainly dismissible. The fleet had been on yellow alert for a week, and the crew was getting restless.

"Any word?" She asked, striding lightly up the command walkway to where Commander Godridge stood, staring in the same manner Bhindi often did herself, at the stars. He turned at the sound of her voice, frowning.
"None." She bit her lip, eyes drifting past Godridge to the distant speck of Rishi so far away... and yet, so close.
"How long has it been?" She asked.
"Thirty-six hours at the mark." Godridge responded, not even finding it neccessary to check his datapad. It was standard policy for agents to report every twelve hours. No wonder the crew was getting agitated, they could no doubt feel the stress on their commanders. The tension was, to use an anicent cliche, so thick one could have cut it with a knife.
"Keep scanning on all frequencies. And," she paused, turning to the bridge crew, all of them fixed on her, yet pretending so hard they were not, going about the motions that they were hard at work, oblivious to the mounting tension. "and put the fleet on Red Alert. If they do not report within twelve hours, I want us ready to move."
Godridge nodded and offered a salute, and Bhindi turned, walking quickly from the bridge.



"Haven't you gotten that thing working yet?" Drev asked irritably, not taking his eyes from the road. Their hasty retreat from their base of operations had meant they hadn't had time to pack up their most essential gear, some of that being their tight-beam transmitter and encypter. Both their ships could have handled the job, but they were both in the spaceport under lock and key. And despite the fact that the Rishi authorities obviously still had not realized that Drev and Tek had not come in aboard the same ship, they had elected to put a ring of guards around the entire spaceport. There wasn't a chance of getting in undetected, not until night fell. And they simply didn't have that much time on their hands. There was little doubt that the Admiral could hold off bringing the fleet in for much longer...

"Nearly there." Tek grunted, his voice muffled from underneath the vehicle's dash. And then, at last, "Got it. We should be able to punch through to the fleet now."
"I just hope they aren't jamming everything."
"Only one way to find out," Tek replied, flipping the switch on the front of the com unit. It was a low-power decivce, designed only to realay their message to one of the ships at the spaceport so that it could be punched through to the fleet. It was risky, and the enemy would almost certainly intercept it. But they were running out of options, and they would simply have to rely on their encyption. It would last... at least, last long enough. "It works." Tek reported triumphantly.
"Great. Just the get the message sent. And then we've got to move."



Commander Godridge entered the command lounge out of breath and not bothering to salute.
"Admiral! Report from Rishi." He sounded, if anything, relieved.
"Excellent." Bhindi took the offered datacard and slid it into her data pad, and began to read the text scrolling across its surface, a thin smile forming as she did so.

Smoke was everywhere this morning, following the explosions set off across the capital by Drev and Tek the night before. The world's govenor had dispatched civil engineers, work crews, to sift through the rubble, but it was long, slow work.

Things are coming to a head. Drev thought, watching as another, smaller explosion ripped through an office tower in the centre of the city. It would be obvious to the Rishi officials by now that they were under attack.

The question was, what would they do about it?. Drev had already decided that the Rishi operation was far more complicated than it had needed to be. The fleet could have wiped out the entire planetary defence force effortlessly.

But that wouldn't have achieved the same level of connection, this instant loyalty the people would surely place in their saviours, as an invasion would. If the Holy Demosthesian Empire simply invaded Rishi, there would be panic and revolt.

Often the more subtle methods were the best, it seemed.

"Beuatiful isn't it?" Tek asked sardonically, stepping out of the stairwell and onto the roof of the building. Drev chuckled lightly.
"In one sense, I suppose it is. There really is nothing like a terrified populance." He offered a grim smile. "I think it is almost time we alerted the Admiral. They should be ready to crack any time now."

Across the city, another explosion tore out a chunk of the city square, sending rubble and debris into the morning sky, to glitter as it was struck by the sun as it fell back to earth.



It was often said by the natives of Rishi that if there was a brish centre to the universe, then Rishi was the planet it was farthest from. Inbound ships were a rarity, outbound ones even more so. Indeed, the only ships that did enjoy space over the planet were smugglers looking to escape the authorities, or their enemies. Or sometimes both.

And, of course, a large presence of Imperial warships. The Tyrant had arrived mere minutes ago, her dark arrowhead cutting into space above Rishi and settling into orbit, unmolested.

Below, the Govenor had declared martial law, and perhaps a hundred soldiers had obeyed his orders to enforce the law at all costs. The populance was in chaos, the continuing terrorist strikes causing them to scatter to the winds.

By the time the Tyrant arrived, they had already recieved hundreds of independent calls for aide from concerned citizens. The Rishi navy, what remained of it, stood down and allowed the fleet to launch their transports with ease, quickly deploying soldiers to the planet below.

The martial law declared by the Govenor was enforced, and shock troopers were placed on every street corner. The Govenor himself was tragically killed by a team of soldiers when he attempted to put up a fight inside the government complex.

Three hours later, the Parliment officially disbanded both the Ridge Confederacy and their navy, and the remaining non-Imperial warships in orbit formed up and made the jump to hyperspace. An hour after that, the order was signed officially bringing Rishi into the Holy Demosthesian Empire.

Within five hours of the Tyrant's arrival in orbit, Rishi rested firmly in the hands of the Empire.