Deep Space -- CSD Dark Reverence

The fleet's first hyperspace jump had gone well. Neither of the ships had exploded, as had happened with brand new ships in some instances in the past. Nor had their hyperdrives failed halfway through the jump.

Not that these ships were brand new. True, their hulls were shiny and unmarred by laser blasts and carbon scoring. But that was a false facade, a new layer of black paint put there by the same people who had only just finished rebuilding these ships.

Captured shortly before at the now famous Battle of Corellia, the ships were built in the terrorist shipyards at Mon Calamari, and sent into battle against the Empire and her forces.

And there they had been captured, taken by the forces of the Empire. And after weeks of repairs and modification, not only repairing the damage done in the battle but also bringing the ships up to Imperial spec, they were undergoing their initial trial runs.

And so far, everything was going well.

"Report from engineering, General. The engines operated optimumly, for a trial run." One of the officers at the communications station said. He was young, his face youthful and without any evidence of wrinkles.

And identicle to those of the other officers around him. It was unsettling, to walk onto the bridge and see every crewman looking at one with the same eyes. But the need for crewers had been unexpected, and the clones were the best the Empire had to offer at the moment.

Not that they were any less able than anyone else. In some sense, they were better. Unwaveringly loyal, with enough of their instinct left in them to be as capable as any graduate of the Carida Academy.

But still...

Trayden Locke offered a nod, indicating to the officer that he understood the report. The clone turned back to his console. Trayden Locke was not an old man, but his face showed the obvious lines of to many battles. A former officer of the Holy Demosthesian Empire, he had been in a state of semi-retirement since the destruction of that force.

But now the Empire - the New Order that had destroyed HDE - was at war. And they needed capable officers to command their fleets.

"Have navigation input the coordinates to our next destination." He ordered.

His rank in the Holy Demosthesian Empire had been that of Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces. What Simon Kaine was to the Empire, he had been to the HDE. Now, serving under Kaine (however distantly), he was a mere General.

A General commanding two ships stolen from the Empire's enemies and turned into killing machines with which to bring those enemies to their knees.

Trayden Locke had at first been wary of serving under the same Empire that had destroyed his former. But with much pushing from Bhindi Drayson, a former Admiral of HDE herself, he had accepted that the New Order was the best substitute for the HDE the galaxy had.

And that the enemies HDE had once held were now the enemies of the Empire.

He had accepted the rank of General, and this command, in order to ensure that the fate of the HDE never became the fate of the New Order.

"Course laid in." The navigation officer reported. Trayden nodded.

"Very good. Take the fleet to hyperspace on my mark." He paused, observing the starry vista outside the bridge viewports. "Mark."

The stars elongated, and the two ships made the jump to hyperspace.

The ships had to be tested before they would see combat. And it wouldn't hurt the crew, clones or not, to gain some experiance in basic operation of the vessels before they were forced to learn in combat.

Trayden Locke clasped his hands behind his back in the manner of naval commanders past and present, and looking out to the blue vortex of hyperspace.

He wondered what awaited them at the other end.

The mission was a simple one. Show the rest of the galaxy - the terrorists included - that the Empire was still fully capable of normal operations, despite their repeated attempts to grind the New Order's progress to a halt.

Part of that proof involved rooting out and eliminating other, minor threats to the Empire. The attacks by Coalition and Sovereignty forces had given many smaller groups a chance to strike in their own ways, while the Empire was occupied on multiple fronts.

That ends today. Trayden Locke thought.

Since the Battle of Endor, the Rebellion - the self proclaimed "New Republic" - had held the world of Rendilli. The planet itself was famous for producing some of the Old Republic's most famous warships, the ships that would become the foundation of the New Order.

The Dreadnaught Cruiser and Victory Star Destoryer had been born at Rendilli. And both ships still held their place in the Imperial fleet.

The fall of the Republic had cut Rendilli off from the rest of the galaxy, and it was home now to a small splinter cell of Rebel loyalists. To stubborn to join the ranks of the Coalition and yet unwilling to give up the fight, they had been striking out against the Empire in small but irritating ways.

They were almost begging for an attack, which had left High Command wondering if there was something more to the Rebels than met the eye. The assault on Corellia had driven those thoughts out of their minds, but eventually the Rendilli avenue had to be explored.

And what better manner in which to do so than as a test for two of the Empire's newest and most powerful warships?

"Emerging from hyperspace now, Sir." The captain reported in the same voice all of the crewmen had.

The orders for "shields up" were not neccessary - the crew knew what to do, and the new computer system recently installed fleetwide ensured that such things would be taken care of.

Nonetheless, Trayden Locke felt compelled to give the orders. Old habits died hard, and he did not want them to die at all.

The crew acknowledged him, and soon the displays confirmed the protective layer of energy surrounding the warships was active.

"Sensors, report." Trayden ordered. The bridge crew was acting compitently thus far, each man engrossed in his work.

"Reading two warships on intercept course, General. Unknown configuration, but a style similar to an Imperial Star Destroyer."

"Not Victory Class?" The General asked, momentarily confused. Rendille had tried several times to produce a ship to compete with the Kuat Drive Yards Imperator design. But none had ever been successfully released, so far as he knew.

"Confirmed. Unknown Star Destroyer varient. Overall length approximately one thousand, seven hundred meters."

Curious, Trayden called upa visual display on his own console. Indeed, the ships did appear to be similar to an Imperator Class vessel. But they were longer, their arrowhead profiles wider and their noses less pronounced. Too, the bridge tower was not so wide or tall, but longer, stretching a good two hundred meters to the very stern of the ship.

And they moving in on an intercept course for the two Imperial warships.

Asking for trouble, these two.

"Are we recieving any hails?" He asked, knowing full well he would have been informed if they had been.

"Negative, General. Vessels mantaining communications silence."

Which was also interesting. Were he, Trayden Locke, in command of those vessels, and seeing that his enemy was both larger and more heavily armed than he, would be transmitting an inquiry into their presence.

That the ships were moving towards his fleet and not communicating suggested that they intended to fight - a suicidal notion considering the odds. Even with an untested crew, the mamoth Star Defenders would be more than a match for the two smaller ships.

"Perhaps they don't speak basic." He joked. None of the crew laughed. "Clones." Trayden muttered, glaring at the tactical display and wishing he knew what the inbound vessels were planning.

Both groups were easily within firing range now, and yet the two Rendilli vessels did not fire. Trayden did not speak, waiting to see what would happen before giving his crew authorization to open fire.

No sense in provoking them needlessly.

The two ships were moving past his, now, their courses taking them towards the edge of the planetary gravity well. Checking his sensor board, Trayden saw that he had their shields raised, perhaps in case he had decided to fire.

But now they dropped the defensive layers, and both ships suddenly vanished. They had jumped to hyperspace.

"Track their vectors!" Trayden ordered. "Launch two flights of TIEs. Set course for Rendilli."

The strange incident over, the fleet began to settle into a routine. But Trayden Locke still wished he knew what had just happened.