Coruscant
Imperial Palace

The doors opened to the throne room of His Majesty Daemon Hyfe, Emperor and Sith, and probably the most fearsome man in the galaxy. Or at least so thought the average person. Nevertheless, he was powerful, and it was right to regard him with respect. The man who entered these doors, though, had no respect for Daemon Hyfe. A political bureaucrat, he had for six years been planning the overthrow of the Emperor.

His name was Thorian Hill, born on Alderaan before its destruction by the Empire. He had disowned the planet publically, especially after Bail and Leia Organa's rebellion had become known. Palpatine had commended him and elevated him to a position that made him happy but kept him out of the way; Palpatine had not trusted an Alderaanian in his inner circle. Nevertheless, Hill never once gave any cause for complaint. When the Emperor died, Hill managed to get lucky, staying with the major power figures of the Empire until they once again had conquered much of the galaxy.

However, it was during this time that he was reached by New Republic intelligence agents, who turned him against his masters and used him as a spy. From the time of the destruction of the New Republic and the Wrath virus, Hill had been laying the foundations for a plan that would topple the Emperor and, he hoped, bring the Empire crashing to the ground. Simon Kaine's retirement gave him the perfect opportunity, and he set his plan into motion.

Little did he know that the Emperor was aware of his motions. He managed to contact most of his allies just before Imperial stormtroopers burst into his Coruscant apartment, subduing him with gas (and a few blows). Now he was facing his judgement. He stood, defiant until the end, his hatred of the Emperor evident in his eyes even as justice was meted out.


Several hours later
Coruscant


Now is the perfect time, he thought to himself as he began composing his message to the Imperial palace. I've always hated those black-shirted elitists. Now is the perfect time for them to pay.

Bilran Eduf was a member of Imperial Intelligence, and for some unknown reason he harbored a deep resentment of the SS, Wes Vos in particular. No one but he knew why; were someone to ask, he would give the party line about the SS. But a memory probe would reveal something buried deep inside him, a cancer eating him from the inside out. As he worked, Bilran thought back to that time, and a scowl came over his face.


Imperial Academy
Carida

Cadet Bilran Eduf stalked forward across the grass. It had been several days since he'd been able to catch a plebe unaware. His pastime at the Academy, like that of many upperclassmen, was to catch the fresh fish and beat them to pulps. Very few defended themselves, and those who did were unable to last more than a few punches. He'd gotten hit a few times, of course, but only once had a really good blow landed. That had been several weeks ago; a freshman called Uthria had broken his nose with a single blow. Eduf's chief crony, Anuza, had turned on him then, and it had taken a protracted battle for Eduf to reclaim the head of his own clique. Now, though, something had to be done about that interloper.

According to the reports he had received, Senior Wesley Vos had interfered with Anuza meting out justice to Plebe Uthria and had even turned the brute against Eduf himself. That was unacceptable; Eduf was the head of the class. If someone forgot that from time to time, as it seemed Vos had, there would be no mercy. Eduf would deal with the interloper as he dealt with the lower classmen.

Vos wasn't a hard individual to find. He had made a name for himself on the shooting range, and he could often be found practicing there. That was where Eduf found him now, twin DH-17 blasters in holsters. As the cadet approached, Vos drew both quickly, sending six shots in rapid succession down the range, the last already moving before the first struck. All six were critical hits.

Eduf paused momentarily. Even he was smart enough to figure out that laying into Vos while he was armed would not be a good idea. The pause was fortuitous, though, for Vos turned to face him. A knowing look on his face, he said, "Cadet Eduf. I've been expecting you."

Eduf's eyes narrowed. How did Vos expect me, he thought to himself, even as Wes continued. "I understand that you feel I have infringed upon your territory, intervening in your tormenting of Plebe Uthria. If you wish satisfaction, I shall be more than happy to meet you on the dueling field, tomorrow at sunrise."

Eduf looked around as the range had grown quiet. At least six other upperclassmen had heard the unspoken challenge and Vos's response. He could not back out now. Gritting his teeth, he said, "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

Eduf had met him. As the memories came flooding back, his hatred grew, spilling out onto the page before him. When he finished, he sat back and smiled. This was good.

To: Supreme Commander Bhindi Drayson
From: Intelligence Analyst Bilran Eduf
Re: The Imperial SS

Recent reports show a massive buildup of equipment and military in the area known as the SS Sector. This buildup appears to be unauthorized and could be related to the recent attempt on the Emperor's life. It is advised that action be taken quickly to resolve this matter before this large unauthorized fleet is turned against the Empire.

Bilran smiled again, then reached out and hit the send button. Now, all he had to do was wait.

Coruscant
Office of the Supreme Commander


The report had reached Bhindi Drayson's desk less than three hours after its composition. As it did concern a powerful element within the Imperial military, it was her duty to look into the matter as fully and completely as possible and then to take whatever action was required. The first order of business, of course, was the interview of Bilran Eduf, which had gone quite well. Eduf had conducted himself admirably, and his story seemed to make sense. But something wasn't quite right about it.

Drayson didn't know what it was that felt wrong. Perhaps it was the impression she had gotten from Vos at their last meeting, which admittedly had been some time ago, or perhaps it was some intuition. Whatever the case, she didn't feel that Vos was a true traitor, at least not in the sense that Eduf seemed to think. It was true that he had built up an inordinately large fleet, but with the Confederation right next to him, surrounding him on three sides, that fleet made perfect sense. Yes, there had been a requisition of a great quantity of parts that could be used to construct a fair-sized shipyard, but such requisitions were not unheard of, and Grand Admiral Desaria had granted him a great deal of authority, or at least implied that authority, in order to both keep the Confederation at bay and pacify Oversector Outer.

Still, Bhindi knew word of this alleged treason would eventually reach the ears of the Emperor, so something had to be done. It wouldn't do to execute Vos outright; while there were those who would laud her for ridding the galaxy of him, she realized - as did Desaria - that he had his uses. There were simply some tasks that only the most brutal of men - or women - could accomplish, and the SS still had its place. And it was much too soon after their creation to remove the Colonel-General from command; the organization would fall apart under a new commander. It was in a critical stage now, and would require the leadership of a man they trusted.

And yet, it seemed as though the SS had stepped beyond its bounds. Bhindi smiled as a solution came to her. As she had thought, there were some tasks only certain people could accomplish. Imperial Intelligence wouldn't like it, but it would separate Vos from his unauthorized fleet, his base of support, and would move him closer to Coruscant, where he could be watched. Still smiling at her stroke of genius, she began drafting the orders.


In'chion
ISD V Tyrant


Vos stared at the datapad in front of him in disbelief. There was no way that this was happening! He was a military commander. In the last two years he had developed an organization that rivaled anything the Empire could throw together. These orders were a farce! His face grew cold and stony as he read them once again.

Colonel-General Wesley Vos:

You are hereby ordered to surrender military command of Oversector Outer to Admiral Powet of His Majesty's Imperial Navy. You will then proceed with the Schutzstaffel to Onyx, where you will receive new orders.

Signed: Supreme Commander Bhindi Drayson
Countersigned: Grand Admiral Telan Desaria

Wes couldn't believe it. Even if the orders didn't come out and say it, he knew that everything that he had worked so hard to build since the establishment of the SS on Echtabahn was being taken from him. It appeard that his fleet, the Waffen-SS, and the Kommandos would remain under his command, but the auxillery fleet and the extra units from Oversector Outer and the militaries of the conquered planets would be removed from his control and given to Powet.

Taking a deep breath, Vos contemplated direct disobedience, but he knew that would never answer. There was nothing to do but comply. Turning to Admiral Typton, he said in a hollow, strained voice, "Admiral, prepare the fleet for hyperspace. I'll be going planetside; we'll depart upon my return. Also, instruct the division commanders to begin loading the Venators and Phantasms. We're moving out."


In'chion
Governor's Palace


Moff Liam Zhukov stood stiffly on the top steps of the entrance to the Palace. Beside him, one step lower, stood Colonel-General Vos. The two had been friends ever since the SS had supported Zhukov's revolution on Valinor and, upon the failure of the revolution, had transported he and his people to Echtabahn. Now, Zhukov was a Moff, political governor of Oversector Outer, and Vos was a Colonel-General, for now still the military commander. The two had worked well together, cleaning up much of the sector and holding the Confederation expansion at bay, at least in the direction of the Empire.

Now that working relationship was to be broken. The new commander, Admiral Dmitri Powet and his staff marched formally up the street, entering by the main gate. Halting, the entourage saluted the steps, and Zhukov and Vos returned the salute. Striding up the stairs, Powet stopped two steps down from Vos and bowed. Vos returned the bow, then stepped aside and walked down the stairs, keeping his back turned towards them as Powet took his place at Zhukov's side. Reaching the bottom, Vos turned and, one last time, saluted his friend. The salute returned, Wes walked through the gates for the last time as Commander of the Armies of Oversector Outer.

GalExplor Star Liner Empress Teta, One Light-Year from the Toloskin Nebula

Beyond the large viewports of the Empress Teta’s secondary observation lounge, the swirling clouds of interstellar gas shone like beacons in a dark, unforgiving sea. The Toloskin Nebula was prized in the Onyx sector as one of its greatest treasures, a jewel that people visited from across the galaxy just to glimpse its beauty. The combination of hues – reds, blues, and yellows, up to colors only visible to some species – made for an incredible display for anyone willing to make the journey. In addition, the vibrant mixture of gases that made up the Nebula were unique in their composition, containing more heavy elements than was normal for such clouds. When the gravity of the Nebula’s gases became heavy enough to encourage star formation, as it inevitably would, the combination might be something different from what astrophysicists presently saw in stars.

Unfortunately, that would not happen for billions of years, which meant that scientists could only study the intricacies of the swirling gases and hypothesize about what would occur. That was where things got fun for many scientists. It was good to be able to explain things and study truths, but it was even more exciting to be able to conjure up theories and use the imagination to come up with potential answers. The true fun in science was in not knowing, in only being able to guess. If one day you were proven correct, it was the most amazing feeling in the world, but even if you weren’t you could still find happiness in the pursuit of knowledge.

That was what had brought Brarhk Ku’ulsayk aboard the Empress Teta. The Toloskin Nebula was to a scientist what the beautiful forests of Ithor were to honeymooners. As he sat in the secondary observation lounge, Brarhk looked out at the Nebula and saw more than just a beautiful display of color. He could see the array of gases before him and marveled at their wonder, at the sight that something like interstellar gas could create. That was not all he saw though. He looked past the lights and colors, past the clouds of gases, right down to the molecules that made them up. When he looked out at the Nebula he could see the connections between atoms, the powerful bonds holding the gases together on the microscopic level. That was what brought the sense of wonder to Brarhk; as beautiful as the Nebula was, the true wonder was in the way that something as small as atoms could combine to produce something so large and complicated as a cloud of interstellar gas.

Molecules were Brarhk’s passion and had been the focus of his life for nearly two decades. As a scientist himself, he had spent more time than he could count studying the intricacies of molecules – what made them up, the way that they combined, the powers that they had. It was fascinating, keeping his attention for many hours at a time. Brarhk looked at the other tourists gathered in the lounge, looking out at the Nebula’s beauty, and while he could understand the way that the gases held their attention, he thought that they were missing out. The microscopic nature of the gas was the truly interesting part. As he sat in front of his portable computer, looking at sensor readouts from the Empress Teta’s central computer, Brarhk was happier than he had been for some time.

It felt like it had been a very long time since he had been able to do any research, even longer since he’d participated in any serious institutional research. He had been a valued member of the New Republic’s research laboratories on Coruscant back when they had been in power. Then the Empire had returned to take back the planet, and Brarhk had been pressed into service for a regime that he despised. Even though he had been able to escape, the “New Order” still haunted his life. He had to always be careful where he traveled to, could not stay in one place for very long, and constantly had to watch over his shoulder for fear of stormtroopers materializing to apprehend him. He often had nightmares of what the New Order would do to him if they ever got their hands on him again. The entire affair made him sick and his hatred for the Order was such that he feared it might destroy him, but despite all this, he could still say that he was free. Though there were restrictions, he could essentially make his own choices. That was what was important. That was what had allowed him to come to the Toloskin Nebula, to lose his troubles in the study of his passion.

One the Nebula’s long tendrils puffed off a cloud of superheated gas, causing the gathered spectators to mutter in awe. Brarhk smiled at the readouts on his screen, knowing that he’d be able to look at them more closely later. It was at this moment that he felt a presence beside him, having just materialized from the crowd. Instinctively, Brarhk turned his head slightly to look at the person; the slight knot that always formed in his gut passed when he recognized the Aqualish as his companion, Olno Gett.

“Thought you’d still be here,” Olno said in his gruff, accented Basic. Brarhk had quickly noticed his friend’s propensity for short phrases, and had always wondered if it was because he was not accustomed to Basic or because he preferred to speak simply.

“The show isn’t even close to being done,” he replied to Olno’s greeting, not bothering to contain his excitement. “Is the gambling hall no longer entertaining?”

“Too many rich, cocky humans. Listening to them wasn’t worth the credits.”

Brarhk chuckled and continued studying his computer. After a few moments of silence, Olno continued, “This was too risky.”

The Devaronian scientist sighed. It had taken a lot of work to convince Olno to come on this trip. The Aqualish, despite the fact that the New Order was probably not looking for him, had been on the run with Brarhk for three years. His motivations had never been quite clear, but they were not close companions, working together to ensure each other’s safety. To that end, Olno had been adamantly against their boarding the Empress Teta. For one thing, he thought that having their presence on any transit record unnecessarily was taking too large of a risk; it didn’t matter that they used false identities. He also had heard rumors that the New Order was planning on interceding into Onyx sector, despite the fact that the Coalition had the strongest presence there at the moment. Brarhk knew that he had mercenary training and plenty of experience, but he had not wanted to pass up the opportunity to view the Toloskin Nebula up close. He had been running for three years; every once in a while he had to take risks. Olno had eventually been convinced, but evidently he still had reservations.

“The Empress Teta won’t be here for too much longer,” Brarhk tried to reassure him. “Then we can return to our hideout and pack for our next home. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Olno shrugged and turned away to get a closer look at the Nebula. Brarhk shook his head and went back to his work. Though he would never admit it, he could not help but be a little nervous by being out and about. He was right, though; the star liner would be finished soon and would depart the Onyx sector entirely.

Brarhk studied his readouts again, only to notice something odd. He was picking up a new formation that had appeared near the Nebula, one that hadn’t been there moments before. He began entering commands on his computer, trying to determine what the new material was. It didn’t register as anything normally found among interstellar gas. Confused, he entered a new command, calibrating the sensors so that they relied on data on all stellar objects, not just basic materials within clouds of gas. Within moments, the computer determined what the new object was, and Brarhk gasped. Moments later, alert sirens began to wail in the observation lounge and a voice projected over the intercom.

“Attention passengers and crew. We have just detected a vessel on an intercept course. It has charged weapons. We believe it to be a raiding party of some sort. All passengers are to return to their quarters immediately while we attempt to jump to hyperspace.”

Nearby, Olno turned around to look at him, his expression stony. Brarhk could only stare back, not entirely sure what to do.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: Brarhk's character bio can be found here

Wesley Vos, when on duty, was an individual who carried the air of authority with him. Such had been his lot since the Carida Academy, when he'd assumed the role of Cadet General, leading the brigade of Cadets for an entire year. He had maintained that presence through his years as a platoon and company commander, then with the Rogue Empire, and now with the SS. It was how he maintained order and respect in his units. The most brutal of men listened when he spoke, often for reasons they did not understand.

But behind closed doors, with those he trusted, the authority and discipline fell away. As the door to Vos's quarters aboard the Tyrant slid shut, he undid the top two buttons of his uniform jacket and collapsed into his chair. His eyes closed, he could not stop thinking about what awaited him at Onyx.

In the room with him was the man Vos trusted the most. Colonel Racen Selere, commander of the SS Kommandos, sat across from him and leaned forward to read the flimsy printout of the orders his commander had received. Pursing his lips, he leaned back and began to think.

After several minutes of silence, Vos spoke quietly. "The worst part is the counter-signature. I know Drayson doesn't like me. She hasn't since that little episode on Coruscant. But Desaria...the Grand Admiral and I understand one another, and even respect one another, or at least I thought we did. Now..."

Selere shook his head. "Desaria still trusts you. He is still military commander of the Onyx Occupation Zone."

Wes mused on those words for a minute. "And that's where we're headed. So you're saying that he pushed for me to be reassigned there?"

Another shake of the head. "No. I don't know if he pushed for it. But he didn't refuse. Think about it. Desaria is very powerful. If he didn't want the SS in Onyx, he'd have refused, and you would be going somewhere else."

Vos nodded slowly. "That's true, at least."

Selere continued. "What's more, you and Desaria share a like mind about these pirate raids. You both believe that there is something more to them, something dangerous. What better place to have you than in the Onyx Sector, where these raids have been occurring?"

Vos nodded. "I guess it's possible. But to see all my work handed to another..."

"Zhukov is still there. And your work was done in the name of the Empire. You did not own it. The Emperor did. It was his good graces that allowed you to remain in control. Do not forget that."

The ship shuddered as Vos allowed Selere's words to sink in. Hyperspace, Wes thought. On our way to Onyx.


Onyx
Two Days Later


The ships hung in space, suspended above the planet, two massive craft facing one another. The smaller of the two, the Imperial Star Destroyer Mk. V Tyrant, hung upside-down in relation to the world beneath it, while the larger, the Conqueror-class Destroyer of Telan Desaria, was correctly aligned. Between them, a single shuttle and six unique TIE-class fighters traversed the short space, landing in the bay of the larger craft only moments after having lifted off.

From the shuttle exited twenty-four black-armored troops of the Waffen-SS. The standard stormtrooper armor had been upgraded significantly for these troopers, containing among other things a wrist-mounted blaster and a highly advanced system of minute sensors in the helmet, giving these individuals access to everything they might need to know about the surrounding environment. Behind these troopers exited six black-clad (but unarmored) SS Kommandos, the elite of the SS. The troops took up flanking positions at the end of the shuttle ramp while the Kommandos separated, three to a side, in an escort formation.

Finally descending the ramp was Colonel-General Wesley Vos, along with Colonel Selere. As they reached the bottom, the Kommandos fell into step and the troopers set a guard on the shuttle itself. Vos was silent as the eight made their way to the turbolift to the bridge, not speaking even to his companion. This was official business, and with the Guard, every manner of ettiquette had to be observed.

The turbolift arrived and the party emerged solemnly into the bridge of the massive ship. Awaiting them was Grand Admiral Telan Desaria of the Imperial Guard, his white uniform a stark contrast to the black of the SS. Vos saluted, a salute that was returned, then said, "Colonel-General Vos, reporting as ordered, Sir."

Desaria nodded and replied, "General, walk with me for a moment."

Dismissing the guard, Vos stepped forward, joining the Admiral at the viewport. The few Guardsmen who stood nearby, knowing their duty, silently slipped out of earshot. Desaria spoke again. "I assume you have heard the rumors that have surfaced."

Vos shook his head. "No, Sir. I know only that there were some accusations made. I do not know their nature."

"Ah," Desaria nodded. "Well, allow me to enlighten you, General. It appears that you were implicated in the recent plot to assassinate Emperor Hyfe."

Vos could not have been more shell-shocked had a Confederation missile landed next to him. "I was what?"

Desaria turned his head, casting a steely gaze from under arched eyebrows. Vos took the hint and bowed his head. "Pardon, Admiral, I was startled. I can assure you, Sir, I had nothing to do with that plot, or any other."

"It is a known fact that you have been consorting with a Sith, Darth Skygge - a Sith in which the Inquisition has no confidence as to her loyalties."

"Sir, my relationship with Lady Skygge has been strictly an alliance of necessity. She knew something of the recent attacks on this sector and shared that information with me. As you recall, Sir, she did do a great service at Generis."

Desaria nodded and looked back towards Onyx. "I believe you, General. Nevertheless, there are those who feel you bear careful watching. And the intelligence report that Supreme Commander Drayson received did indicate that your so-called Auxillery Fleet of Oversector Outer was both unauthorized and larger than certain individuals thought necessary to protect the sector. That, along with a general distrust of the SS amongst the regular military, led to your current reassignment. I have been instructed to order the SS to begin to map new hyperspace routes in this area to facilitate resupply and redeployment should our fears about this new threat become a reality. If these attacks are more than just pirates, then we will need a sound network of hyperspace routes that the enemy does not know about."

Vos's eyes narrowed, but he held his temper in check and remained silent. Desaria continued. "However, both the Supreme Commander and myself feel that this task is too menial for the capabilities of the SS, and so have developed a second mission for you. If these raids are the work of a central organization, perhaps even a galactic power, they will have a single source. Your mapping of routes will be a cover; Commander Drayson and I wish you to seek out the system from which these attacks originate. Find them and alert me to their presence. If we know where they are, we can eliminate them at their source."

Vos nodded, "Yes, Sir. I will do my best to find these rogues and shut them down, Sir."

Desaria nodded, silent for a moment. "Very good, General," he concluded. "You are dismissed. Resupply here at Onyx, and then you may depart. Gloria Imperium."

"Gloria Imperium," Vos replied, saluting once more before turning on his heel and striding away. His escort joined him, and soon they were once more in the shuttle, headed for the Tyrant.


Twelve days later
Toloskin Nebula


Brarhk studied his readouts again, only to notice something odd. He was picking up a new formation that had appeared near the Nebula, one that hadn’t been there moments before. He began entering commands on his computer, trying to determine what the new material was. It didn’t register as anything normally found among interstellar gas. Confused, he entered a new command, calibrating the sensors so that they relied on data on all stellar objects, not just basic materials within clouds of gas. Within moments, the computer determined what the new object was, and Brarhk gasped. Moments later, alert sirens began to wail in the observation lounge and a voice projected over the intercom.

“Attention passengers and crew. We have just detected a vessel on an intercept course. It has charged weapons. We believe it to be a raiding party of some sort. All passengers are to return to their quarters immediately while we attempt to jump to hyperspace.”

Nearby, Olno turned around to look at him, his expression stony. Brarhk could only stare back, not entirely sure what to do.


As the ship approached, the Empress Teta began to power down their systems. The crew recognized the approaching vessel and realized that they could neither outrun nor outfight it. It was better to simply be boarded, robbed, then leave with their lives than be shot into oblivion. As the vessel came nearer, other blips appeared; apparently this one had simply been the advance party. In all, two frigates and four corvettes surrounded the passenger liner, weapons still powered. A few shuttles detached from the lead vessel and headed for the liner; by all appearances this was simply a standard raid.

Then more blips appeared - large blips. Blips that had not been in this part of space for some time. Blips that certain individuals on the Empress Teta wished to avoid more than the raiders. Imperial warships.

Colonel-General Vos smiled. "Good work, Commander," he commented on the fleet comm channel. Commander Leigh of the Fury-class Light Frigate Krenshar had spotted some unusual activity in this sector while carrying out his mapping duty. He had reported it immediately, and now Vos had his first contact with the enemy since Generis. It would be an easy victory.

Three ISD Vs moved in to surround the smaller ships as multiple cruisers, frigates, and corvettes assumed supporting positions. One Interdictor Cruiser powered up gravity well generators behind the Imperial lines, holding the ships in realspace. Nevertheless, two of the corvettes turned and attempted to break through the lines. Within seconds the Star Destroyers had turned them into scrap metal. The others surrendered.

Vos's grin grew wider. "Our first victory, General," commented the nearby Admiral Typton.

"The first of many, Admiral," replied Vos. "The first of many."

As Wes watched out the viewport of the Tyrant, he felt pride welling up inside himself. While this was only a minor victory, as they clearly outnumbered their opponent and what fight there had been was so one-sided that it could not legitimately be called a battle, nevertheless he had captured several ships and was now going to be returning them to the Empire intact, the first clear message of his loyalty. He would regain what had been taken from him, and he would do so in a way that would make those who had accused him appear to be fools. It would be his revenge.

Now, though, he was supervision the transferring of a prize crew to the captured ships. The enemy had already been taken on board the Tyrant and placed in detention cells. Knowing that the cell detention blocks of most Star Destroyers were easily penetrated and even more easily escaped from, Wes had mandated that the old-style force-field cells be used. This allowed an individual just enough room to stand, sit, or lay down, but not enough to do anything else. It also provided an excellent torture cell, and instead of a standard lock it was operated by a station far removed from the cells themselves, accessable only by a turbolift from the bridge.

It was in such cells that a number of the prisoners sat. Wes had not yet himself been down to interrogate them, but the reports he was hearing were not good. Apparently, all the captured prisoners were claiming to be Mandalorians, despite the fact that they were of clearly distinguishable races. Apparently there was at least one Aqualesh, several Iridonians, and a few Roadians in the group; a strange combination, truly. It seemed more like a pirate raid than an organized enemy. Nevertheless, something told the General that they were part of this larger scheme he believed to exist.

Part of that belief stemmed from the woman who stood at his side. Clad in a black rancor-hide jumpsuit and a dark cloak, Darth Skygge's face was expressionless as she too watched the shuttles transport the prize crew to the last frigate. He wondered what she was thinking, what her concerns were, if the Sith had any. Her insights had been correct thusfar. They had allowed him to arrive at Generis at exactly the right moment, staving off complete destruction and possible loss of the planet and the Imperial garrison there. It was her wisdom that had advised him to come here, to attack this raiding party. And she had been the first one to piece together the attacks on Xa Fel, Onyx, and Generis.

Now, he hoped she had more wisdom for him, because he was not sure what to do next. The civillian freighter sat there still, motionless, held in place by three Imperial tractor beams and nearly one hundred turbolaser cannon. If it moved, the crew knew they were dead, and their ship would be slag in a matter of moments. Now, Wes wondered what to do with them. He had two options, really. He could search the ship, which would require a great deal of paperwork, and, of course, there was always the off-chance that there was a criminal on-board who would put up a fight. Even if he or she didn't fight, that was more paperwork for him. Or he could simply let them go, showing them the benevolence of the Empire and the SS.

"Let them go," came the soft voice of the Sith.

Wes snapped his head towards her, eyebrows furrowing. As wise as Skygge was, he didn't like it when she did that. "Why?" he asked, somewhat curious despite his disapproval of her reading his mind.

"There is no one on that ship who can harm you, and the SS does need its image rebuilt. You have been accused of treason, or implicated in it at least. You have shown in this display that you are still Imperial. Now, show the galaxy that the Imperials can be merciful."

Turning back to the viewport, Wes considered her words. It would make sense, he thought, but it also violates Imperial policy to release a ship without at least a cursory search. Still...

He never finished the thought, for from behind came the voice of one of the bridge lieutenants. "Sir," the woman said, arresting his attention, "you should take a look at this."

Turning on his heel, Vos strode across the bridge, heels clicking with precision even now. At least some of Desaria has rubbed off on me, he thought. Reaching the woman's station, he said, "Yes?"

"Sir, we've been downloading the data from the Empress Teta, particularly its readings of the Nebula and the surrounding area. Sir, the liner was carrying powerful equipment, as this was partially a scientific mission on behalf of the Academy of Science on Kuat. Most of their readings were of the nebula, and are useless for our purposes. But look at this."

She pulled up a screen that showed the area within three light years of the Toloskin Nebula. "See?"

Vos raised one eyebrow. "No, not really. To what are you referring?"

She pointed at the screen. "There. See that anomaly right there? Near those three stars? Sir, the gravitic signatures indicate that there might be a planet there, an undiscovered planet."

Vos stared at the lieutenant. "Undiscovered?"

"Yes, Sir. It doesn't show up on any charts, and the Empress Teta was carrying very advanced equipment specifically calibrated to search for gravitic signatures. It's better than even Imperial equipment for such a task. And the anomaly is so small that it is unlikely that even the crew of the Empress picked it up, since their concentration was on the Nebula itself."

Vos stared at the screen for several moments, then straightened. "Lieutenant, if we find something there, you're getting a promotion. Admiral Typton," he called, "Plot a course at 24-19-82-1. Let's go find ourselves a planet."

The ships dropped out of hyperspace in formation, prepared to meet resistance if a planet was there, was inhabitable, was inhabited, and the inhabitants were spacefaring. That was a lot of ifs. But, as Wes had learned through the years, it paid to be careful.

The first if was rewarded immediately. As the ships came out of hyperspace, through the viewport Wes could see a large sphere hanging suspended from the blackness of space. A planet, and one that was on no known charts. Of course, that was not unusual, considering the vast number of planets in the galaxy. But this one, which appeared blue, green, brown, and white, seemed to be inhabitable. An unknown inhabitable planet was much rarer.

Immediately Vos ordered twelve squadrons of fighters to begin flyovers, and the long-range scanners on the capital ships began searching for life forms. They found them, in abundance. Technology scans came back negative, though; either these inhabitants were good at hiding tech, or they were not spacefaring. Wes hoped it was the latter, because a non-spacefaring race was easily subjugated. Assuming, of course, they were sentient.

The first shuttles landed on the planet within a mile of one of the smaller settlements in a barren wasteland. The settlement itself was surrounded by a wooden palisade, gates shut. The walls were manned by strange, almost pig-like creatures (an offshoot of Gammoreans? thought Wes) clad in iron and carrying weapons that were from an age that was remembered only in ancient history books. Axes, swords, bows - these were the weapons which the SS faced. Wes almost laughed.

With a roar, the gates opened and a stream of these creatures emerged, fully plated in iron or steel and carrying axes, swords, maces, and other such weapons. They charged at the Waffen-SS with gusto. Wes immediately deduced that this race had a mind built for war; their tactics were extraordinary, considering their technology level and knowledge of the enemy. Behind this line of iron-clad warriors came a second line of bowmen, and behind them a third line of creatures clad in robes. Mixed in with the bowmen and the robed creatures were another race, or so it seemed. This second race was taller, and their tusks were in general much longer than the first race. They were also blue or blue-green in color, as opposed to the yellow-green and brown of the first.

The first rank of SS troopers had two E-webs set up already, and these cannons began spraying the charging line. The creatures fell quickly, toppling in ranks as they had charged. Those left alive after the first spurt of blaster fire beat a hasty retreat back towards the gate. Then something happened that Wes would never forget. Some of the robed defenders stepped forward and lifted their hands. Explosions rocked the ground near the SS troops. Fireballs shot from the hands of some, and lightning began to strike around the troops. Dismayed the SS troops began to retreat.

It was then that Wes sent in the bombers. A TIE Storm bomber has four warhead launchers, each carrying four warheads. The six he sent were armed with air-to-ground missiles, each of which packed a decent punch. Each bomber launched one volley, and twenty-four missiles slammed into the native army. What little remained of the creatures splattered the walls, the ground, and even some of the SS. Their courage restored, the SS began using the E-webs to strafe the walls and were surprised to find that the shots penetrated. Screams of anguish were heard, and it was not long before a single warrior emerged from the gate, holding above his head what Wes interpreted, correctly, as a flag of truce.

Wes, along with two protocol droids, his commanders, and Skygge, met the warrior, who turned out to be the enemy commander, in the center of the field. It took twenty full minutes for the droids to understand the other's language and begin to translate. Apparently the Urukhui, as the first race called themselves, and the Troiliari, as the second race was called, wished to surrender their village to the invaders. As soon as the surrender was finished, the commander, who called himself Duunrakhu, would kill himself for his failure and as a sign of surrender, as was the custom of the Urukui.

Wes, of course, immediately assured him that killing himself was not necessary. He did so not from kindness, but rather because he wanted to use these warriors himself, and there was no better way to do that than to use a commander whom they were familiar with. The village itself proved to be an important trading post on the road between Urkhrimhor, their capital city, and Khrasrhods, an important mining town. A quick shuttle hop to Urkhrimhor, a deal with the Urukui king to trade weapons and technology for service and occupation of the planet, settled the matter. The Urukui would wipe out their enemies, and in return the SS would be able to draw upon the powerful strength and courage of the Urukui warriors as well as have an established home. And this time, Wes determined, no one would take it away from him.


End