Emissary, enroute to Coruscant

Regrad woke from a dreamless sleep.

The last twenty-four hours had been a blur. Despite the work he had yet to complete in the Eastern Province, he had been forced to drop everything and make straight for Coruscant.

The Azguardian Prime Minister rolled in his bed, mumbling and groaning, trying to snatch a few moments of sleep while he still had the time. His small, bare quarters containing nothing else except his full state attire and robes, in which he meant to meet the masters of the Empire.

He tried not to think about it and sank back down into sleep, letting the events of the past day filter through his consciousness again.



One day earlier, The Coalition

Frustrated, Regrad pushed into his control room, the doors slamming behind him with a sound that echoed around the vaunted chamber. "What's so important that it couldn't wait, Ferguson? I'm in the middle of delicate work right now."

The holographic representation of the aged, portly, and stressed chief of the CIB dominated the center of the chamber's conferece table. "Regrad, I've got some bad news. You remember Joren's 'special assignment'?"

"More or less, yes," said Regrad, sinking with ease into his chair. "What's the matter?"

"Well, Joren's attack of Bilbringi went off without a hitch last I checked. Admittedly we've more or less lost contact, but things haven't turned into trouble yet. The problem is..." The intelligence chief paused, uncertain of how to phrase the portenous words to come.

"What, man? Spit it out already!" Regrad felt his nerves fraying already and the news hadn't even been relayed.

"The Empire's responding in full force - much more than we expected. I'm reporting several major incursions into the borders of Onyxian space, and a build-up that suggests invasion of the Cren in a matter of hours at the most. The battles are already making the news."

Regrad leaned forwards to watch the swirling pattern of news clips and tactical data flood the computer panel mounted in the table. The patterns were unmistakeable. The reports were corroborated. "It looks like these attacks are being directed by local and border forces..." muttered Regrad, pointing at a map of fleet movements acoss the galaxy. "The major Imperial commanders and forces haven't mobilized."

"Not yet," said Ferguson. "My intelligence suggests they probably won't stay that way for long. There's talk of war, Regrad."

War. Just the word shook Regrad to his core. "You're sure of this? I can't risk acting on information I'm uncertain of."

"Positive," said Ferguson. "What are your orders?"

Regrad brooded for but a moment, but quickly snapped out of it and fixed his gaze towards Ferguson. "Call a council. This decision is too big for myself alone."



Several hours later, control room of The Coalition

Arranged around the table, in slightly etheral holographic form, a circle of the Coalition's most powerful individuals sat. With Regrad at the head, the ministers of various departments, leaders of Coalition subfactions, and key members of the High command all appeared in an impromptu council. The meeting had been slapped together on the fly and didn't promise to last much longer than fifteen minutes, but it had to be done to ensure everyone was on the same page.

"...So that's the situation," said Ferguson. His holographic representation now sat in one of the surrounding chairs. Over the table a galactic map floated, with recent incursions highlighted in red. The distribution of the fleets, the location of critical personnel, response times to various locations, all critical intelligence spread out before them, and the numbers weren't comforting.

"Right," said Regrad. "Now that we're all up to speed on the situation, I need options. What are your opinions on the situation?"

Admiral Dawara of the Cren leaned across the table, turning both of his heads towards Regrad. "We've not the forces or power to defeat the Empire without help. Can you send reinforcements?"

"You're pretty far out there, but I could send some people," said Ion, Captain of the Western Coalition. The Tynnian officer scratched at his muzzle nervously before pointing out his forces deployed around the West. "I don't know how many, though, since Endor's right there. The Empire might make a move."

"Don't expect much help from us." The speaker was Captain Panacka, of the Eastern Coalition. "My forces are still sorting out the mess from the Black Dragon war, and Imperial attacks might mean a fresh offensive from the Dragon side. Not to mention we're the furthest away in the Coalition from the conflict."

"What about Lance?" The speaker was Caleb Logan, stepping in for his father still preoccupied at Bilbringi. "The Colonies aren't far from the Cren - no further than the West, anyways. Why don't you send some forces?"

Lance Shipwright shifted uneasily in his seat, but otherwise his practiced neutral expression held. "The Colonies have no reason to join in this conflict yet. The Empire have yet to show overt agression against Gestalt, so I'm inclined to hold my forces in reserve."

"Why you cowardly son of a bitch," growled Caleb. "We've got the Empire tearing through Coalition space and you're planning on staying neutral?"

"The Empire is tearing through Onyxian and Cren space, Logan," replied Lance in an icy tone. "This doesn't appear to be a galaxy wide conflict. I don't see what the fuss is about - the Empire's made attacks like this before."

"Never in these numbers, Lance." The speaker was Corise Lucerne, commodore of the Contegorian Confederacy. "I agree with the Prime Minister's appraisal, these attacks are similar to the tactics displayed by any galactic power at war, or at least nearly at war. We are all threatened."

The Confederacy, the Onyxians, the Azguards, the East, the West, the Cren, the Colonies. Seven small nations divided in the face of one powerful one.

Lance remained implacable. "I will not send Colonial forces into combat in situations that don't require it. That would be an escalation and signal the beginning of a galactic war - these are local forces, mobilized by Joren's reckless actions at Bilbringi, nothing more. Give it time and it will die down."

"Joren was acting on my orders when he attacked Bilbringi," said Regrad, who narrowed his gaze towards Lance. "It is therefore the opinion of the Coalition government that this attack by the Empire signals their level of alertness. Local forces are attacking now because the Empire believes they are under total attack and this is their first response. If we don't act fast, real response will begin to mobilize."

"So what are you proposing?" an indignant Lance declared. "War?"

The council fell silent.

After a long pause, Minister Marth Meer - ever immaculately dressed, speaking in carefully measured tones - said "As far as the Coalition knows, we do not have the forces or resources to effectively wage war on the Empire. This is Jan's department, but my pooled intelligence suggests the Empire's level of preparation far exceeds our own as exemplified by the speed of their first response units. Ergo, war is not an option."

"Why not?" The speaker was Logan. "Why the hell not? If war wasn't an option then why did we send my father off to fight at Bilbringi if we didn't have the strength to back up this claim?"

"We do have strength," interjected Jan. "Panacka's right that the Eastern Forces are in need of some R&R before they could be up to fighting fitness again, but they were the only ones who faced serious wartime damage during the Black Dragon war. The Onyxians have enough ships and soldiers to hold the Commonwealth for months unaided - it's practically a fortress nation. We're much stronger than we used to be."

"Not strong enough, I'm afraid," said Regrad. "I apologize, Logan. I did indeed send your father to battle expecting reprecussions, but I failed to anticipate the level of response. I thought Simon was unwilling to engage in open war, or why else would he allow his officers to engage in raids at will on Coalition territory?" He paused to glance at Corise, Ion, and the White Knight Ruuvan at the back before continuing. "Either they seek to reestablish their superiority and 'up the ante', as the pazaak players say, or they geniunely think this is the start of a war. Either way, a military response would cost us and likely end in defeat."

"So what are you expecting us to do in defence of our land?" said Dawara, who balled all five of his hands into fists. "Just lay down and surrender?"

"No, I don't think it will come to that," said Regrad. "Hold them off as best you can. Lance... If you won't commit forces, then there's nothing I can do to make you. Ion? Take a compliment off the forces watching Endor and see what you can do about assisting Dawara once we have the measure of the Imperial attack. I'm afraid due to the sheer distance between you and the rest of the Coalition you must stand alone in defending yourself, Logan.

"In the meantime, I will try and end this war before it begins. I think... I believe I know what it is Simon seeks to do. There are ways out of his trap that will ensure no more forces are mobilized and no more worlds attacked. They aren't my favourite options, but they're prefferable to death on a galactic scale. Stand on guard, I'll return as soon as I can."

"Wait," said Ferguson, turning to face Regrad as he got up from his chair. "What are you planning?" The entire council leaned in to listen.

Regrad sighed, and shook his head. "There's more than one way to wound an enemy, and not all of them are on the battlefield. I will meet with Simon and offer him an alternative target, one we might find prefferable. I only ask that you don't press me for an answer now, but focus on the defence of your territory. If anything should happen, then the power to decide what happens next will fall to this council and the House of Representatives." With a chuckle, Regrad added "Someone should probably inform them of what's going on, by the way. I knew I forgot something."

With that, the Prime Minister strode from the chamber. Behind him, the holographic council flickered and faded from existance.



Regrad arose from his restless sleep to the sound of the intercom buzzing. He reached over and jammed the button.

"Sir," said the pilot on the other end. "We've arrived at Coruscant and have received clearance to land. Apparently the IHC have received your message."

No word on wether they approved of a meeting yet, though. Regrad thought. The Prime Minister struggled up and began pulling on his robes of state. "I'll be on deck in a few minutes."

The Past...from rp: Evolution: The Origin of Species and the Ascension of Man..




Zell walked up to one glass cylinder looking intently at the little azguard beastie inside.

Beast because while the creature shared some azguard features, it was so deformed that it took on different proportions, most unrecognizable.

"You're telling me that all these little fuck-heads are the clones of the genetic material we took off them?"

"Straight from the devils themselves, Zell."

Zell seemed to stare behind the cylinder at the connected appartus as if trying to discern visually whether it was up to reported technical specifications or not. "Is your equipment working?"

He banged a hand on the apparatus for emphasis.

"The equipment is fine, Zell." Dominic drawled dryly.

Zell scowled at her. "Then pardon me, Dominic, but.. what the fuck?"

"Zell, we've been trying to answer that for months. And I believe we have found out the answer to a lot of questions regarding our old enemy. Why they are hell bent on worshipping a lifeform as mortal as they are. Why they are so single-minded in their hatred of us and why they cannot accept any vision, any concent, any perception other than their own. And why they may feel so threatened by the Black Dragon Empire."

"You mean other than being little peckerwoods?"

Dominic continued as if not hearing him, "It was so simple but not easily seen because we operate on our own prejudices and preconceptions."

"Dominic..?"

"Let me demonstrate.." she said interrupting him. "C-4T9, come here."

Zell moved out of a protocol droid's way as it ambled up to Dominic. "Yes, Ma'am."

"C-4, who are the most vile villians in this galaxy?"

"The Coalition, Ma'am in general and the Azguards specifically."

"Very good, C-4. Now tell me, who is your creator? Who is your god?"

Zell's eyebrows rose.

"You are, ma'am." the droid responded without inflection.

"Thank you, C-4. You may go."


And as the droid retreated, Zell eyed it's back with a mixture of curiosity and incredulity.

Turning back to Dominic, he whispered hoarsely, "Fuck me! How in the hell did we miss that!?"




"So what are you saying, Zell?" Kaine asked, looking up from the composition of his latest batch of orders.


"Think about it Kaine! The fuckers have two brains! They are so stubborn at following their fucked up God's orders to their own detriment! They see no other opinion but their fucked up self righteous pious opinions! They have this hatred of the Empire and, for the life of me, I've never seen a fucking Azguard until after we left Bastion! You'd think Alderraan was their fucking home planet!

Their life is a fucking predictable book, Kaine! We had the answers all the fucking time!"

Zell laughed at his own excitement and sat down without asking permission. "I don't give you nearly enough credit, Supreme Commander," he started and gestured to the orders Kaine was working on, "How long have you been working on that project?"

"Since before Endgame," Kaine replied. "You just never know.."


"And you may not even need to do that! This Glee Anselm thing is the fire that is burning the damned beasties to the ground! The ground!"


"Zell.." Simon started.


"You were right! The fucking Coalition is burning itself apart and those fucking Azguard devils at the top of their food chain are about to be dealt a serious blow to their view of the fucking galaxy!"


Kaine set his datapads down. "You certainly are excited."


"What happens when you give a droid conflicting orders?"

Kaine frowned, "They freeze and if they ever get out of their logic loops, they join the Dragons?"


"They fucking freeze!" Zell shouted. "We can wipe the little devils off the face of this galaxy forever! We can wipe out their fucking God's too!"


"How do you figure that?"


Zell grinned savagely, "Are not the Azguard's made in the image of their Gods?"


Kaine shrugged, "I certainly hope not."


Zell was no longer listening. "We could wipe the bloody nips from the galaxy.."


He left mumbling to himself, wrapped in his euphoric thoughts.


Kaine dismissed the old Moff from his mind as he picked up the datapad again.


"This ordinance is overkill." he murmured to himself. "Still, if ever used..."


He stopped and looked up, staring at the door that Azrael Zell had just left through.


"Predictable..." he whispered.

A Kashan Pegasus Star Destroyer, along with a host of Cavalier-Class Medium Destroyers were present. The Azguards were also there, sporting several Longsword frigates and one large Claymore-class Battleship.

RP: To Burn With a Righteous Anger...

There would have been two Claymore Battleships had the energy stabilizers not given out on GCSS Virtue. As it was, Captain Globbula was fit to be tied as he ran inteference from each of his frustrated department heads as well as bridge crew.

First, they push heaven and hell to get the Virtue out of an already backlogged repair center only to race halfway across the galaxy hoping to make Joren Logan's unofficial/official fleet buildup for a strike. They had arrived in time for the priority jump out of the Onyxian Commonwealth marvelling at the different models of vessels comprising the Coalition.

"A testament to the greatness of the Galactic Coalition and the the wisdom of Prime Minister Regrad," the rather hotheaded Azguardian Helmsman Pip had commented as the bridge crew took turns pointing out the different makes and models of warships gathered.

After they had arrived from halfway across the galaxy, the Onyxian Fleet also arrived amid much sarcastic remarks.

"We pull out of the Eastern Fleet and fighting the Dragons, fly farther than we have any right to go ending up in the front yard of the Onyxian Commonwealth only to find they haven't come out the front door yet?! Are we gonna get this bru-ha going or what?"

The comment, made near Airlock C, Central Corridor had taken a beating in translation as every able-bodied crewman, woman and alien aboard the Virtue felt it their personal duty to continue spreading it.

It was the particular backwards linguistics (rendering the statement a confusing and amusing cobble of words: "We fly to front yard to get Bru-ha and no one comes through front door") of the Leepoids working the alpha-blue shift in the engine sub-stations that finally prompted Captian Globbula to issue an order against gossip. In a closed community like that of a starship
he might as well have ordered water to stop being wet.

In any event, after the first jump in a series that would have taken them eventually to Bilbringi and an attack against the hated Galactic Empire, the Leepoids had flooded the internal communications system with warnings of impending doom.

Pip, thinking he was the Captain (a personality trait of this particular Azguard), almost cut off their access to the main comm center out of irritation when the ship's general alarm sounded, confirming the Leepiod's warnings. To Pip's consternation (as well as that of the crew) the ship
began to spin out of position in a spiral motion as the engines began to randomly cut off and on upon their exit from hyperspace at Rendezvous One.

After a few perilous moments of panic, the crew had managed to get the ship's position stable but it was clear that the energy stabilizers were failing and would only get worse.

Both Joren Logan and Pip were not amused.


Despite the thick leathery skin Captain Globbula's large frame sported, he almost cringed as he was giving the report to the Onyxian Leader. Logan glowered on the screen as if the Virtue's damage doomed the entire mission and that it was Globbula's own personal fault. But that is not what bothered the Captain. No, he knew Logan would stew and steam for a while before getting over it...but he would be stewing on the Keerow.

Unlike Pip. Pip would be complaining loudly from Rendezvous One back to Spacedock. If Pip wasn't the best damned Helmsman in the Coalition Fleet, Globbula would have given the Azguard the backside of his boot a year ago.





Meanwhile...From the RP: To Burn With a Righteous Anger...



“It will be one of these two.” Bhindi Drayson said, pointing to the two likeliest targets of Coalition aggression. “There’s nothing else in the region worth hitting.”


Simon Kaine looked at the Grand Moff of the Yaga Minor Protectorate with amusement. Bhindi Drayson, along with most career officers, tended to think along military lines when it came to attributing importance to targets. There were many other purposes for an attack, should one even come about.


Rumors about a buildup were barely making their way to the Imperial High Command and given the guestimate that such a buildup was going on within the borders of the Onyxian Commonwealth, the IHC had informed the Governors closest to the suspected area. No one really knew how large or
small the actual Onyxian Commonwealth was but there were indicators, especially since the start of the 'War of Attrition' that Kaine had begun to inact against the Empire's fiercest enemy.


“It doesn’t actually matter where they strike,” he said, eying the map, “if we deploy our fleets here,” he pointed to a location on the grid, “then we have an equal response time to either of those two. Not to mention if they happen to hit any of the other planets that way.”


They could always go for a political, economic or social target.


Bhindi nodded approvingly.


“Bilbringi is the more heavily defended of the two-”


“Which means that’s probably what they’ll hit first.” The Supreme Commander said dryly, his eyes cold, remembering the ill-fated attack a couple of years ago on Corellia.


“Strike damn it!” the woman willed, as though the map were mocking her. “Strike!”


Kaine could empathize as no one liked waiting to see if their worst headaches were coming true or if it was bluster. He briefly wondered if the Glee Anselm debacle had forced the more militant and right-wing factions within the Coalition to gain support in what passed for a Senate these days.

Or perhaps they started a witch hunt within the Coalition as factions pointed fingers back and forth. The question of who actually had authorized the base and seizure of Glee Anselm had yet to be answered. Nothing distracts such questions than an all out attack against their most hated enemy, us, Kaine mused.


"It will be interesting to use the Coalition strategy against them." He said out loud. At the questioning glance from the Moff, he explained, "After Regrad's ill-timed speech against both the Empire and the Dragons, the Dragons launched a punitive strike on a Coalition world which Regrad then used as an excuse to go to war which has devestated their Eastern Sectors.

Now, with their embarrassment over Glee Anselm and with their militant factions at each other's throats, with their political divisions deepening, should they punitively strike us, both Governor Kraken and Grand Admiral Desaria will plunge the knife into the Onyxian Commonwealth."


"Why wait.." muttered the Grand Moff.


Simon chuckled at the woman's moodiness. "Bhindi, we need them to attack first.."


"Why?" she suddenly asked in earnest. "We are the Galactic Empire! We are the ones entrusted to wage war on behalf of our citizens. We do not need to justify our methods to those we are protecting..."


A ghost of a smile crept across his lips. "Bhindi, we need them to attack first because if the rumors are true... if they are building up for a strike it will either be a spread-out attack across the Sector or a more concentrated conflict. Whenever and however this attack comes, if it does, you will have in your grasp the entirety of the Coalition's operational fleet...their entire offensive capability as a whole...in the palm of your hand.


Protecting our worlds goes without saying but even that pales in comparison with the singular opportunity here. What I am entrusting you with is the obliteration of that fleet. Once gone, Desaria and Kraken will sweep away their local defense fleet, if there are any..."


Grand Moff Drayson's eyes widened at the possibilities running through her head.


Kaine turned to the map lost in his own thoughts and of plans that went much deeper.






"Hello folks.

Groder Stu here of INS. Speaking with retired Grand Moff Zell, who is, despite claims from CCNS, not affiliated with INS.

I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule, sir.."


"Not at all, Mr. Stu. I love the limelight of the press. If I wasn't so good at destroying the Empire's enemies and keeping our great nation safe, I would have probably gone into acting."

Groder chuckled appreciatively. "No doubt the entertainment industry's loss is the High Command's gain."

The INS interviewer suddenly took on a more serious look, "Grand Moff Zell, what can you tell me about this CCNS response to your interview regarding the claims of Solicitor-General Marth Meer?

Moff Zell, shifting in his plush chair, shrugged, "That they don't know the ass-end from the pecker-end of their own government."


"Could you explain?"


"Certainly. You see, Groder, what they are doing is trying to sound smart in a Coalition of dumbfucks and so pick at minutia in an attempt to sound relevant. But I do not totally disagree with these Contegorians. In fact, their justification by quoting some philospher about those who love peace prepare for war is not just good sense, it's an evolutionary imperative of all
reasonably intelligent species. However, what is also common sense and should be a factor in the decision-making actions of reasonably intelligent species is the taking into account of one's environment and in this they fail miserably. It's like they are smart when dealing when their own planet but then, upon spreading out, they turn into idiots and we see this alot with
inexperienced creatures thinking they have a big dick and can play on the galactic field.

First of, as the Galactic Empire, we don't give a shit what people decide to do for their own world. It's when their peckers stiffen and they think they can play at galactic politics by spreading their influence over several star systems. Even that is well and good but if a region not only builds up militarily but expands that military over several systems, they will catch the
notice of the big boys, namely, us.

How do we know if we are expected to 'notice' their buildup or not? Our Ministry of Diplomacy waits for their ambassador, which ironically never comes.

Now, these Contegorian dipshits may say, 'Well, fuck. We were in secret talks with the GC! They didn't tell you?'

Well, we answer that by saying, 'No' and all this confusion leads to Metalorn.

If their idiot citizens seem to expect their government to expand without so much as a 'hey, we're growing here' to the largest fucking galactic civilization ever, then expect to be kicked in the fucking face for their fucking impudence.


Little whining bitches!


We say that we attacked Metalorn because of what amounts to a massive buildup (for them) with a hidden pact with the GC whom we are in a Cold War with. They say they passed Bill 3314 and we should have known about it! I honestly don't give a shit because Bill 3314 is not relevant. They were already arming, in secret talks with GC for supporting their military craft and spreading out without any sort of diplomatic overture before Bill 3314!

If they were going to answer our charge for Metalorn, why didn't they pull a Bill number out of their asses before Metalorn? Because they didn't have any because they thought no one was fucking watching their little shifty snake-oil plots! What fucking Bill number was that, you fact fuckers at CCNS? Forgot to tell us that one didn't you?"


Groder Stu chuckles, "What about this claim that they were making no secret of their affiliation with the Coalition?"


Zell shrugged, "Tell me Groder, on what day did their fucking diplomat arrive? Tell me, Groder. I mean, did I miss it? You can't! Because he/she/it hasn't arrived yet! We received no fucking diplomat from the Kashan when they first ventured beyond their system for political control over others and we received no fucking diplomat when they reoganized into this Contegorian fuckfest and we received no diplomat from the Coalition informing us that they were absorbing these Contegorians into their political structure!

From three fucking agencies! Kashan, Contegorian, Coalition! THREE! And not one word!"


"But..."


"These bastards all whine about potentially being attacked by the Empire. You'd think then, if they were so fucking fearful of this, they'd take measures to ensure that we know officially what is going on with their politics.


But now, they mock INS and Imperial Intelligence as not being on the ball because they failed to officially notify us. Just because a News Agency knows something or an Intelligence Agency knows something, this does not mean it's 'officially known'! That's why their operations are more clandestine in nature. If you do not officially inform us, then we have no option but to
conclude that you do not want us to know and therefore we should act accordingly. Which we did at Metalorn!"


Groder looked at his notes, "While they don't list a Bill prior to Metalorn.."


"..because there wasn't one.." Zell grumbled.


"..they do mention that their joining the Coalition was no secret and took place at Starwind Station."


Zell suddenly began to chuckle. "Tell me CCNS, what the fuck is a Starwind Station and where the fuck is it? I looked at our official galactic map and did not see it." He leaned back in his chair, "I'll even venture a guess as to why you couldn't find it on an official Imperial or official Coalition map!"


"Please.." extended Groder Stu.


"Because it probably is either a codeword or designation of a SECRET FUCKING LOCATION FOR A SECRET FUCKING MEETING!"



"Which has been the Empire's statement this entire time.." concluded the INS man.


"Which has been what we've been fucking saying this entire fucking time! Another one CCNS must have missed in their effort to be so thorough in minutia."


"I am amazed that CCNS took your interview to be INS," Groder admitted.


Zell shook his head, "I know. I was like, I don't even fucking work for INS. I was just being interviewed. 'We do not expound our beliefs'... my ass. Unlike these political novices, our clandestine organizations do not air their findings in public...

I mean, I am sure by reviewing holonet signals, INS or Intelligence may know what brand of underwear Corise Lucern wears, but unfortunately," Zell deadpanned, "I cannot officially acknowledge their existence and therefore an quite within my rights to say he doesn't wear any."

He grinned, "until, at least, such a time as I am officially notified.

Therefore, if the Coalition refuses to acknowledge officially Contegorian recognition and if Contegorians have refused to acknowledge Coalition recognition and if the Kashan have also kept their cocksuckers closed...AND THEY ARE STILL BUILDING UP AND SPREADING, we have no choice but to
act. And we did."


Groder Stu was looking over his notes. "Changing topics for a little bit here, it's interesting to mention that this little confederation was started on the basis of and against those, according to their Pro-Consul..where is it..ahh! And I quote, 'would attempt to banish freedom and oppress our sovereign rights as citizens of the galaxy.' What are your opinions here?"


"First of all, there is no such thing as a galactic citizen. Unless, of course, you are an Imperial citizen."


They both laughed.


"So, more correctly, and I am surprised CCNS didn't correct their Pro-Consul in their ever determined manner to maintain fucking correctness... what their Pro-Consul should have said as to the reason their confederation was started...to stand against those that 'would attempt to banish freedom and oppress our sovereign rights as citizens of the Contegorian Confederation'!

And this Pro-Consul? What was her first act in helping to maintain their freedom and sovereign rights? They bowed before the political government of the Coalition! They accepted the Coalition's money, their aid, their materials and their government. Now, they will also, BY DEFAULT, accept their inept leadership and accept the reprisals such leadership brings!


Since Contegorians, according to CCNS, are so big on free speech, 'where is their outrage for their Prime Minister's call for not only our civilians but the Dragon's civilians to revolt? Where is their fucking free speech about Coalition policy being dictated by religious zealots and Azguard gods? Where are their commentaries about the Dragon War? You know, for a fucking free
speech society, they are ironically quiet."


Groder chuckled a knowing laugh. "Perhaps they are trading political favors to keep quiet?"


"Wouldn't surprise me. Fucking democracy."



"I appreciate your time, Grand Moff. With the attacks on Bilbringi, I know your time is limited."


"My pleasure, Groder. Always nice to be interviewed by someone competent."


Groder turned to the screen.

"Some little advice for CCNS, before you attempt take the moral highroad by giving some pseudo-intellectual response against INS, please know the difference between an interview session and an INS article. That way you don't look like complete morons.


And to Ms. Toymia of Brandenburg, Genon:


You asked a question regarding the reason for a punitive raid. I will tell you:

Whether you officially tell the galaxy your intentions or secretly keep to yourself the decision to join a larger faction and adopt their politics, policies and galactic views, when that faction is the Coalition, you put yourself in a camp led by the alien religious zealots, the Azguards. Since this is a faction that touts to the galaxy that there can be no peace as long as the Galactic Empire reigns, you know there will be war (whether heated or cold) between our two factions. You have put yourself on the other side of the Empire and knowingly. So do not sound all indignant about Metalorn because it could have (and should have) been alot worse. Next time, it probably will be.

When your faction, and the Coalition is your faction, decide to make
our civilians military targets by enjoining them in their maniacle hatred of the Empire, your civilians also become targets. So don't talk to us about the galactic protocols for waging war if your faction also does not follow those same protocols. War is a brutal, ugly thing and it is also something that we excel at. So, please, do not insult yourself by feigning ignorance over Metalorn.

You chose your leaders and your leaders chose the Coalition.

Metalorn was not attacked until then and the attack has made your joining of the Coalition officially public on a galactic scale. This is the venue you play on now by joining galactic politics. You cannot simply sit back and expect the larger governments to care about what happens in your little hick, neck of the woods. You have to make them notice you and if you don't ensure that notice happens diplomatically, I assure you, it will happen militarily.


So while I am glad your astromech knows much about what the hell a Contegorian is, it is largely irrelevant in galactic politics because.. you are not the Contegorian Confederation to the Empire. You are, however, the Coalition. And that was by your choice!

The punitive strike on the Coalition at Metalorn started as a blockade. It was the fact that your convoy ignored our warning fire and tried to slip beyond the blockade like smugglers as well as the entrance of military units that escalated the situation from the peaceful blockade it was to conflict. If memory serves, only one transport convoy was affected and so if civilians on
Metalorn did indeed starve because of that, then it is not the Empire at fault but the faulty resource management of your local government. Cry to them or does your free speech only go in one direction? If so, is it really free?

Do know that Intergalactic traders know the drill when it comes to these types of situations. If they chose to ignore the warning shots then the Empire (or any government) is well within their rights to consider them smugglers and possible combatants.

And as for the Bothans, perhaps you are unaware but they joined an organization called the Diversity Alliance. A terrorist organization on the level of GLF, who, I might add your government and ours were tracking down and destroying. You act like the Bothans are innocent. These animals have persistently inserted themselves into our affairs and now, they too are
courted by your own government. Tell me, where is the ambassador and official notification here?

No. This is yet another attempt of a failing democracy to lower their self righteous stance and accept anyone in their membership who has a hatred for the Empire. It seems to be the only criteria nowadays. Who knows, maybe the GLF will become members of the Coalition along with the Bothans. I mean, it can't be terrorism if it's aimed at the Empire, right?

Hypocrites!

Since you're a novice on the galactic scene, allow me to ask you: where does it say that the Empire answers for the actions of all clones everywhere in the galaxy? Cloning is not exclusively the Empire's and has been in use in the New Alliance (whose leadership went to the Outer Rim Sovereignty (who incidentally were the puppet masters behind the ORS/GC war with the Empire and who now make up the leadership of the Onyxian Commonwealth), it has been in use in the former Jutraalian Empire, the Old and New Republics as well as the Coalition. So next time some clones decide to go on a rampage on some backwater planet, don't be so hasty to call them 'Imperial clones'. For all you know, they are New Republic clones. In any event, if they are rogue, what the hell are you blaming us for?

We aren't blaming the Coalition yet for the damages done at Bilbringi for we have already identified a leadership within the Onyxian Commonwealth that authorizes rogue acts carried out contrary to official Coalition policy. Remember Glee Anselm?


This is Groder Stu, signing off."









Perrin Descartes watched the guards bring in the burly Kashan man, taken prisoner off of some transport or other during the Metalorn attack. It was ironic that were it not for the Empire taking the prisoner, who's escape pod had been badly beaten up in the midst of the firefight the man would have died.


And now he's here..


He saw that the man was wearing some sort of antiquated sword. A holdover from some military training. Apparently, it seemed most inductees of this military school were given swords.

The prisoner eyed him warily and the two of them stared at each other as the guards left them alone.

"What were you told?" Perrin asked without introduction and the man rubbed his wrists glad to have the manacles off.

"I was told that if I killed you, I would go free." the prisoner said sullenly.

"Do you doubt your chances?" Perrin asked, curious at the man's mood.

The prisoner's demeanor seemed to change as he looked the Sith in the eye. "No. I just wish there were two of you to make it fair fight." he remarked non-chalantly.

Perrin's eyebrows rose in surprise and in one swift motion the man's stance had not only changed but his sword was also in hand and pointed at the Sith.

"You made a fatal error, Sith." the Kashan remarked with surprising contempt.

"Your saber is on the table out of reach and I can guarantee that if you make an attempt to raise your hand to recall it, I will cut your arm off!"


Perrin's eyes shifted to the saber but he dared not turn his head.

The predictament was enough to illicit an amused grunt out of the Kashan. "You want that.. Even with your sword of light, you could not hope to defeat me! I was a tourney champion and our metal can check your lightblade!"

The prisoner laughed as the tables were turned.

"If you tried your force-lightning, it would not hurt me as the blade is conductive! Even without the synthetic gloves, I can the pain of your lightning long enought to separate your head from your body!"


"So you are outfitted with this equipment on the off chance that you might be taken prisoner and confronted by a Sith such as myself?" Perrin asked incredulously.


"It helps us to think critically... develop our confidence.."


Over confidence, more like.. Perrin thought.


".. and our aggression."


Perrin smiled, "Well, I guess it's working.


The Kashan laughed, "You sit there thinking we are all aliens to you but I am human and a Kashan! You make yourself feel superior to us by simply classifying us as 'alien'! You disgust me! So let's dance this dance of death shall we? Let's- *gack!*"


The Kashan dropped his sword.


"*gack*!"


Perrin simply stared at the prisoner watching the shock of recognition in his eyes. "A word of advice," the Sith started, "We do not have to gesture to extend our use of the Force."


"*gack*!"


"And while you may think yourself equal to the average Imperial because of your attachment to humanity, I would not be so proud of this genetic link."


Perrin, hands behind his back, began to step forward.

"Humanity. Such a mediocre standart to measure oneself by isn't it?" He grinned, "You think I consider myself 'human'?"

Perrin placed a hand on his chest. "How could I when I am so much more?"

The Kashan had doubled over on his knees, his open mouth trying in vain to move the dust on the floor.


"For all your training, you forget one vital truth, Kashan human. I am Sith! That makes any contest between us a forgone conclusion..."


The crushing of cartilage by the unseen hand of the Force was a sound relished by Perrin. The prisoner made no more noise after that, his plated sword vibrating where it had been dropped.









Redevzous One


"What do you mean we can't get underway yet! The fleet's already gone! If the enemy back tracks their vector, we might find ourselves in a next of viperflies!" Captain Globbula was livid.


The Wookiee Engineer growled something nasty back and the rotund Captain put his hands in the air and stepped back a pace. "Just get the damn thing fixed.." he sighed.


"Captain!" Pip shouted diverting the Captain's attention to the sensor readings. "Artillery Fleet has just entered range of Rendevzous One!"


The bridge crew of the Virtue could only stare in awe at the lead ship, the Pathfinder, as it and it's support craft quickly changed their vector to follow the First Fleet's course.


"Nothing like a good dose of reinforcements!" Pip nearly yelled, holding a dramatic fist in the air.


Captain Globbula frowned wondering when Pip's next psychological exam was.





Imperial Space


"So they did it," Kaine remarked in response to the early reports from the Bilbringi Front.


"Attacked Bilbringi, Sir. In force and enmasse." the Officer at the Imperial High Command reported.


Kaine quietly drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. "I'll be on Coruscant in a few days. In the meantime, I think it is time to release our flanking forces on location... Inform Governor Kraken that Charlie Delta is authorized. Once that is done, send a coded message to Grand Admiral Desaria...tell him, 'Execute'.



Taken from ... Empire at War: The Cren Alliance


"Sorry governer, but another message has come in from High Command. Coalition forces have opened fire on Imperial defenders. War plan Charlie Delta is being put into effect. That is all." repeated the Admiral, reading from the sheet of flimsiplast that he had been handed.

"And so it is." stated Park with some finality. He looked up to gauge the officers in his command complex. The older more senior ones snorted and lightly chuckled at the Coalition sealing it's own fate, while some of the more junior ones paled slightly at the seemingly stupidity of the Coalition in attacking their own powerful goverment.

"Okay, put all forces on red alert, as we are now in a state of war with the Galatic Coalition.

And immediatly put into effect war plan Charlie Delta. Send authorization for plan Charlie Alpha Delta Sierra across the secure channels to the commanders of the Grand Fleet of the Mid-Rim. We will soon meet to begin the splintering and ultimate destruction of the Coalition." ordered Kraken. His orders was met with hand clapping from the more senior officers and little cheers from the more junior ones. While he hadn't meant for it to be a speech, his current reign of governer meant that he was will within practice of doing so.




Taken from ... Empire at War: Cut, Slash, Run


Barely an hour before the word had come from an Imperial fortress that it was under assault.

That word had been sent to High Command over a nigh unjammable HoloNet and from there to units that were part of an evergrowing list of contingency plans set forth by the General Staff and the Grand Marshal himself. The simple message still replayed in his mind: Bilbringi is under attack.

Execute.





Meanwhile... To Burn With a Righteous Anger...


...the Coalition’s loss was so complete, so devastating, that she could only wonder at who was in command of its forces that they would throw away so many lives for nothing.

CORUSCANT

"Who's where? What?" Moff Zell barked out.


"Prime Minister Regrad is on approach.."


"THE COALITION PRIME MINISTER?" Admiral Jaeder repeated incredulously.


"Maybe he wants to defect?" Zell remarked dryly at his old shipmate at the Imperial High Command.


"At this point, I'd believe it." Jaeder remarked, clearly unsettled by this unexpected move by the leader of the Coalition.


"Any word on Grand Moff Drayson?"


"Complete success.." Kaine said loudly as he walked into the Imperial High command Center.


Even Zell's normally cantankerous demeanor softened a bit. "Atta girl. Good job.." he whispered in clear admiration.


"Did you just arrive?" Admiral Jaeder asked.


"Just.." Kaine clipped out accepting an update from a passing Officer.


Zell ambled over, "So...?"


Kaine looked up, clearly tired but with a newfound spark... "Everything is proceeding according to what our Emperor has foreseen." he said, going back to the updates.


The old man barked out a startled laugh at the bullshit answer. "Yeah, it'd be just like Daemon to take all the credit. So what do we do about the Lord of the Azguards?"


"Let him land, Zell. Let's see what he wants.."


Before Zell left, Kaine continued, "Oh and Zell, let's give him all the respect, pomp and publicity a person of his station deserves."


Zell scowled, "I wasn't going to leash him and lead him about in chains."


"Just checking.."

"We are clear to land, sir," murmured the pilot, clearly uneasy as Imperial warships gradually built up all around. There was no spoken or perhaps even intended threat, but it was impossible that here in the heart of Imperial power they could feel immune to the destructive strength of the Empire.

Any one cannon of the hundreds bristling about them could have turned the Emissary to dust in a moment.

"Take us in then. No sudden movements." Regrad sat just behind his pilot and copilot, brooding.

The movements of ships barely impacted on his thoughts, save for those moving through Onyxian and Cren space. Gone was the lighthearted leader who supped on tomatoes with his loyal troops on the desert sands of Krakken IV. So too was the naive general who crusaded hopelessly into the heart of Imperial space so long ago. Even the Visionary, the reformed and reforged being with the wisdom of gods and the experience of the ages, felt faint and dying.

He purged the sour feelings of regret and frustration from his mind. They served no purpose to the job at hand, to which he owed every ounce of his ability.

The world-city that was Coruscant appeared before them as they pierced the clouds, countless brilliant spires beyond comparison in the entire galaxy. Imperial rulership had continued unabated for a few years, but even the marks of their reign were lost in the endless sea of people and buildings that had stood for millenia. They would likely still stand when the Empire was but a distant memory, the banners and statues but a brief chapter in history.

Regrad pulled his attention away from the breathtaking sight in order to think about his upcoming meeting - if there was going to be one. An 'honour guard' of Imperial fighters formed up around the Emissary, suggesting to Regrad that his arrival would at least be treated with official status. He knew much rested on his ability to gain an audience with the Supreme Commander of the Imperial armed forces, yet it was entirely within Kaine's hands wether to meet with him or not.

Even if a meeting was granted, he was forced to admit his confidence in front of the council had been a bluff. What could he offer Simon that could stave off inevitable war for a little longer? What 'alternate target' could possibly interest the Supreme Commander other than his own head?

It was dawn in this area of Coruscant, and the red light skimmed the tops of the city. making it seem warm and alive. The warmth was lost on Regrad as he wracked his brain over the questions that hung over his head. How had his vision failed him so? How had his faith lead him so far astray?

Not one of the prophecies had been achieved and yet here he stood on the cusp of defeat. It was his habit to mix the mythical with the practical in a way others might not grasp, so the word prophecies could have been repalced with objectives. Again he felt outfoxed by his nemesis, to be so denied and thus forced to submit to his will.

Regrad rejected once more these thoughts, deciding that thinking about it any more was pointless. All he could be certain was that Simon was down there, and if he didn't speak with the Supreme Commander soon a terrible war would descend on much of the Coalition. He would simply have to feel out his options once he sat across from his opposite.

The shuttle was guided to a landing pad attatched to a monolithic structure. He had seen it many times in official briefs, public statements, and reports on the Empire.

And in my nightmares.

It was a tower among towers. A fortress in the heart of the Imperial hegemony. Here, amongst the endless spires and rooms and corridors the Emperor and his Imperial High Command held court. As if by some internal instinct, Regrad averted his eyes. The vast structure blotted out the sun, leaving the Emissary lost in darkness.

Finally reaching the landing pad, Regrad's ship settled down. A welcoming comittee was already forming where the landing pad connected to the rest of the building. Regrad knew it was now or never.

He sighed, and got up from his chair in a slow, deliberate way. "Wait here. I'm afraid I can't give much of a timetable for this meeting, but holonet reception's quite good here I've heard. If the meeting goes longer than expected I'll have someone send food out." He patted his pilot and copilot on the shoulders, and walked towards the loading ramp.

As he reached it, he paused, and looked down at himself. Regrad was about to represent a Coalition potentially at war, and the hounds of the Empire would look for any slight weakness or flaw to jump on. He was bound in his state attire, white robes with symbols of his Azguardian faith painted on in black. It was simple and all-purpose, but perhaps not sufficient.

Looking about for a suitable compliment, Regrad picked up his sheathed sword and hooked it on to his belt. In an age of lasers and personal shields it barely constituted a weapon - in particular for a race that sported retractable claws and fangs - but appearances were everything.

Taking one last deep breath and centering his thoughts, Regrad stood at the top of the boarding ramp. I am the spirit that cannot be broken, the rock upon which the foundations of freedom is built. One short prayer later, Regrad advanced to meet the Empire's leaders face to face.

Mess Hall - Claymore Virtue



Captain Globbula was enjoying a much needed respite as he sat alone in the largely abandoned Mess Hall. He rubbed one of his rather large chins as he quietly read the reports on the ship's condition and noted an overall optimism from his workers that they would be able to make the jump away from Rendezvous One in fairly short order.

Even so, a strain of nervousness was beginning to affect him. And not just him but he'd seen signs in other members of the crew. To the untrained, unknowing eye they were intent on their duty and simply going about their daily business but the Captain had seen the stiffness of gait, the jerky hand or head movements as if their minds were elsewhere.


As if their minds were with those that went forward with the attack.


An attack that surely was done by now?


The shroud of silence was ominous and as the time ticked by their collective anxiety only grew.

"CAPTAIN TO THE BRIDGE!" came the siren call that echoed throughout the empty mess. The Captain was so focussed on the agitation evident in Pip's voice that he forgot to note that Pip was not the Second in Command.

Pip was their rock of firm and solid belief in the righteousness of their cause and their attention to duty. If something had so shaken even him, circumstances were dire indeed!


And as he stepped onto the bridge, he saw that dire did not begin to describe the situation.


For before the Virtue was a Contegorian Star Destroyer...

Not the pristine and battle-ready vessel that had been seen during the journey to Rendezvous One. No, this craft was a different as the crew of the Virtue murmured at the battle damaged warship. A large gaping hole was clearly visible running across several decks and the length of the ship.

It's retreat must not have been a pretty sight and Captain Globbula crisply called for the ship's Damage Control Teams to hasten to the hanger and have shuttles prepped for immediate launch.

"Turn our bow weapons towards the aft vector of the Contegorian. If anything unfriendly emerges, blow them to hell."

"They are at the ass end of our range, Captain." the Weapons Officer complained and the Captain silenced his voice with a look.

"Then make sure your aim is excellent, Mister!" he ordered sharply.



~



Captain Globbula stared at the Kashan Officer seated behind his desk, clearly grateful for the hard drink Globbula had offered.

"It was a complete route.." the man had whispered between sips. "We were lucky to get out of there with as many as we could. We were surrounded and outnumbered but I swear to you we were not outclassed!"

Captain Globbula was encouraged by the display of fire in the man's gut. If one's gut ever failed him, the God's be with him for no one else would.

"I don't understand.." the Captain of the Virtue questioned softly. "Were we unable to break their line?"

The Contegorian laughed mirthlessly. "The attack cruisers did but the main fleet did not pursue the opening."

"Why ever not?" Globbula nearly demanded despite the other's pain. "Were not their shipyards rendered asunder? Did we not show the Empire that they simply could not attack us with impunity? Did we not...?"

The Contegorian simply sipped his drink and turned his bleak eyes to Globbula. "Captain, those were not our objectives."

And then the Kashan Captain began to speak...

THE SITH SIDE OF THINGS

Perrin Descartes watched as the prisoners were corraled along by none-to-nice Stormtroopers who were, in turn, watched by Moff Drayson's none-to-disloyal personal soldiers. People who were innundated with a drive for the utmost loyalty and the unquestioning, unrelenting demands placed upon them by the young Moff.

Their heavy hand was seen in interrogation of prisoners as the Empire attempted to break a person's will to resist it's overwhelming power.

But these creatures had had little experience in such things. For some creatures could not be broken with brute strength. Some creatures found their inner reservoir of endurance in the face of such brutal force.

No finesse.

He walked up, dressed in clean white clothes which seemed so out of place for the environment he found himself in, and sat down facing some nondescript ensign off some nondescript vessel that was knocked out of commission during the fight at Bilbringi.

Those warships not destroyed were mainly broken and battered into surrender leaving an entirely too few remaining to rescue those who took their chances in escape pods and escape the perfect 'Enclosure' maneuver Moff Drayson had performed.

The man stared vacantly through Perrin his despair as transparent as glass.

Perrin reached in and pulled out a small yet sealed container.

Without speaking he pulled off the lid and reached over to slowly wave the aroma coming from the container under the man's nose.

That seemed to get through to the man where nothing else would.

And as Perrin allowed the man to take in the scent a little while longer, he saw the smell had triggered a memory in the prisoner. A little box of the mind that allowed him to escape the situation he found himself in presently.

Perrin drew back the container and the memory faded from the man, his eyes coming to focus on the Sith for the first time.

Perrin smiled disarmingly.


..and the man began to cry..

THE ANNALS OF AZRAEL ZELL

Real Talk, with Groder Stu



"..some would claim that it's genetic," the INS man was saying.

"Genetic?" Retired Grand Moff Zell replied, his lips curling with disgust. "Who the fuck told you that?"

"A homosexual." Groder answered honestly. "I think the context was in relation to the Citadel's claim that people were homosexual by choice. The homosexual person was claiming that it was not."

Zell whistled, "That's fucked up."

Groder grinned, "I take it you agree with the Citadel?"

Zell scowled at the mention of the Empire's Official Religion, a conglomeration of beliefs that basically said good people went to heaven and bad people to hell and left the definition of good and bad to the old ol' Empire. "Religionists." the old man spat out. "Why they give a fuck over who you fuck is beyond me. But I still believe that fucking gays are gay by choice."

"Explain." Groder asked out of curiosity.

"Well, think about it!" Zell snapped. "Every fucking person a homosexual has had sex with is a choice. They did not accidentally fuck the other fucking gay person. They did not wake up and say, 'hey, I need to fuck my own gender.' There was no fucking revelation! A person is attracted to whoever they are attracted too but the term homosexual is not derived from who you fucking are attracted too. It's derived from who you fucking fuck. So if you decide to fuck your own gender, then you are fucking gay!"

"But the tendencies, the attraction.."

"Means shit! People can be attracted to fucking anything. Some people may be attracted to fucking Twilecks. Some are attracted to fat people! Some people are attracted to those with low self esteem.. But that does not instantly translate into: 'I am going to fuck them!'. No, they make that decision when they nuture that attraction.

So if a man choses to fuck another man, he's homosexual. Or if a woman chooses to fuck another woman..."

"They're homosexual?" Groder added.

"They'd better be in my fucking quarters on my ship!" Zell blurted out causing Groder to laugh out loud.

"So you don't think homosexuals are going to purgatory?"

"Don't give me that Citadel shit. For all they know, their God is gay."

"Why do you say that?" Groder straighted knowing some Citadel Bishop will be airing later calling down evil on Azrael Zell, for all the good that would do.

"Think about it, Stu! God creates angels.. god creates all this weird animal shit. Then god creates man. Then... god finally creates woman. God must have grown tired of the male companionship he had for millenia before creating woman."

"What about those who say god is a woman?"

Zell laughed, "Then she's a damn whore for creating all those males first!"

Groder silently thought about the ratings bonanza to come from the Citadel's response later.

He decided to put the controversy to rest and changed subjects, "About Bilbringi..." he started and Zell scowled once more.

"There is some question regarding the details of the Coalition attack.."

Zell grinned, "Well, that's the question isn't it? The fleet composition had just about every major race comprising the Coalition but was it truly a 'Coalition' operation?"

"You think otherwise?"

"The Onyxian Commonwealth is considered by the Empire as a Rogue State. Their attack on Glee Anselm," he paused and held up his hand knowing what Groder was going to say, "or, rather, their illegal seizure of the planet Glee Anselm, the lack of accountability from the Coalition leadership shows their ineffectiveness within Onyxian space, which is led, by the way, by old Outer Rim Soveriengty cronies entrenched and now this attack on Bilbringi, led by the Onyxian leadership."


"What if the Coalition really is behind the attack?"


Zell barked out a laugh, "Kaine thought you might say that and the Supreme Commander's response was precise enough to impress even you."

Groder raised his eyebrows, "Could you let us in on the Supreme Commander's thoughts?"

"Who knows what the fuck he thinks about most of the time? Probably where else he can capitalize on the Coalition's fuckups.. First, I thought, how could the Coalition be so stupid? Their Eastern Forces are smashed and their entire Sector is for shit! Did you see the holovids of the devestation? And they want to commit war against the Empire in this state?"

"And the Supreme Commander?"

Zell scowled silently at the INS man's disinterest in his own theories and finally relented, "Kaine simply made the observation that if Regrad or some other Coalition flunky under Regrad ordered a strike, it was more than likely to be a punitive strike perhaps to let us know they still had teeth. Like a dog that's been kicked in the balls growling at their neighbors to convince them he's still got a pair.

Anyway, the Supreme Commander mentioned that the attack on Bilbringi was anything but punitive. First, the fleet was two big. Second, there were two fleets! What the fuck do you need two fleets for a punitive strike for? And lastly, the goals or objectives were not with punitive action in mind."

"What did he mean?"

"Well, the enemy fleet jumped in their large fleet and slugged it out with the defense line before Bhindi drew the Encloser in. However, the enemy did not press the line but simply sat there and took the fucking punishment. They launched their small attack craft that simply served to annoy us but really had no other function other than trying to distract us from their fleet simply sitting there."

"Why would their fleet simply sit there and take it?"

Zell grinned, "Because their objective had not arrived yet."

"What?"

"No what. Who. The secondary fleet was the back door to seek and destroy Bhindi Drayson. They were hoping to lure her in but they did not take into consideration one thing."

"And that is?"

"That they were trying to outsmart Bhindi Drayson. She Enclosed them all and crushed the life out of their last fleet. But the fact remains that they threw all that material and men at one objective. To assasinate and murder Moff Drayson.

Now, is THAT the fucking mission you think Regrad gave to the Onyxian Commonwealth leader?"

Groder was impressed. "I would think not."

"Exactly. Kaine said that even if Regrad ordered an attack, he would not have ordered the assassination of Moff Drayson. This attack was personal with 'vendetta' written all over it. The fact that the Onyxian leadership chose revenge over the orders of their Prime Minister, if in fact he did give the order, then by their action, they are now Rogue."

"And we have no political ties with this rogue nation that has attacked us."

Zell shook his head murmured, "All that wasted... to kill a bitch.."



*

THE PRESENT

The holonet recorded the landing of Coalition Prime Minister. As he moved along, his Stormtrooper guard walked quickly to their destination causing the Coalition leader to hasten his pace if he wanted to keep up.

The Azguard was escorted into the Grand Hall, past checkpoint after checkpoint and security measure specifically deactivated for their enemy's arrival.

The procession moved away from the Imperial High Command's general direction and towards the Imperial Palace.

Standing to meet the procession was retired Grand Moff Azrael Zell. He narrowed his eyes at the weapon the Azguard chose to wear and stared at the reptile's near emotionless face.

"I am directed to escort you to the Meeting Chamber of his August Imperial Majesty, Emperor Daemon Hyfe."

The procession moved further into the opulent palace, past the Emperor's Gardens and the paradisaic Palatial Grounds and on into the Throne Room itself.


Standing to the side were various military officers and, standing next to the seated Emperor of the Galactic Empire was the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces.


The Prime Minister was only allowed to approach so close.


The Emperor's malevolent eyes seemed to penetrate the Azguard as if expecting something from the other Head of State.


There was a pause as the Imperials collected waited expectantly of Regrad.

All eyes were upon him. The eyes of the Emperor and his Supreme Commander. The eyes of the entire Empire. Of the galaxy. The weight of it all threatened to crush him, the awareness that his every slightest movement and sound was being observed and analyzed for meaning and intent.

Regrad refocused his attention to the matter at hand. He met the Emperor Hyfe's smug and sneering look, before averting his eyes and kneeling down on one knee.

"Your Imperial majesty, I come before you today to admit my... error in judgement. My mistake. My failure on behalf of the Coalition and its' people. The raid at Bilbringi has prompted a wave of violence across the galaxy far in excess than that which a government can attempt to excuse or accept.

"As the Prime Minister of the Coalition, responsibility for this costly disaster is mine and mine alone, and so I come before you on bended knee to admit my error and beg an end to the fighting before things spiral even further out of control."

Whispered conversations among the gathered dignitaries and officers began, but the Emperor looked on impassively. Regrad glanced up, seeing that Simon was still at his side. As usual, the Supreme Commander was unreadable, standing by his Emperor without a trace of emotion or the hint of reaction. By all rights, Regrad thought to himself, it should be Simon on that throne, and him to whom Regrad should admit his defeat, but neither Regrad nor Simon would ever say as much.

"In return for my admission of failure," continued Regrad, silencing the whispered conversations. "I am willing to make concessions politically and diplomatically to the Empire by way of reparations for my mistake. I will do what is necessary to preserve the integrity of the Coalition and its' member-states in light of this new confrontation, and I admit freely and to all assembled here and in the futher galaxy, that I was wrong and have failed you." Again, Regrad bowed his head.

"As such, I am at the mercy of his majesty."

Several hours later the patchwork repairs had been completed to the Contegorian Star Destroyer. At least completed to the point where the Captain of the ship felt he could hazard the journey to the Confederation.

Captain Globbula and the crew of the Virtue bid them a successful voyage before returning to their own situation.

The engineers and technicians were swearing by each of the known Azguard gods (and several that were unknown) that the ship would hold together on it's way back. But back to where?

That was Globbula's chief worry. After a fierce debate with himself, he decided to hedge his bets and make for the nearest shipyards, Onyx.

"Best speed to Onyx, Helm." he ordered Pip and for once, the unruly Azguard was silent.

When the ship did not immediately begin to move, Captain Globbula turned to the Helm Station and saw the Azguard's head slumped. The Captain pushed himself out of his oversized chair and marched over to the Helm, at first thinking of giving Pip a swift kick in the tail.

His pace qickened when he heard the tell-tale signs of a slight snore from the soon-to-be-busted-back-down-to-Ensign crewman.

Right before he raised his hand to smack the back of the Helmsman's head, he realized that Pip had been on-duty on the bridge during their entire sojourn at Rendezvous One.

He leaned forward slightly clearing his throat and Pip's eyes opened immediately.

"Captain!" he squeeked.

"Just wanted to see what had your attention, Helmsman," the Captain gruffly stated, squinting at the monitors in front of Pip.

"Just entering the last figures now.." the Helmsman started weakly and Globbula turned around abruptly choosing not to comment on Pip's earlier unconscious state.

"Best speed to Onyx, Helm."

"Aye, Sir." Pip complied and as Globbula walked off he pretended not to notice the look of relief on his Helmsman's face.

The mighty Clamore maneuvered it's vector away from Rendezvous One and from the bad news that seemed to come from the direction of Bilbringi.

"Engage." Globbula ordered sitting back down wondering if he should have waved an appendage as he uttered the order.

"Computers plotting jump to hyperspace now, Captain." another crewman replied and Globbula sighed as the necessarily minutes ticked away effectively destroying the dramatic rush of feeling his order to get underway had conjured up.

When that feeling was suitably dead, buried and probably fully decomposed, the calculations were complete and the ship unceremoniously jumped.






Perrin's eyes drew together in slight surprise as the man before him, seated and dressed in the familiar black and grey uniform of the Jedi Corps, looked at him directly. Despite himself, it was not everyday that a Sith was faced down by a person who very likely knew how powerful they were. Sure, with the way Perrin carried himself, he drew critical looks but typically by those who were ignorant and who viewed him more as an eccentric than a mind-on-the-edge Sith Knight.

"Excuse me?" the Sith asked again, trying to read the Jedi before him.

"By whose orders are you here? Grand Master Vance or Governor Darksword?"

The man before him was serious which caused the Sith to grin at the impetuousness of the situation. Apparently, the Grand Master's activity on Rodia was not well received by all aspects of the Imperial government. Or was it deeper than that? More primal?

Are they afraid?

Perrin stopped his train of thoughts and took a good look at the Jedi Corpsman before him. The Sith had an inkling that these force-users were not your typical Inquistoriate inductee but held a much deeper function. Did their founders expect this Jedi Corps to stand up to the Sith?

Descartes at first scoffed at the idea but then realized that the man looking at him was serious and seemed to have no doubts as to his function and/or what he would do should his function come up against an obstacle.

It occurred to Perrin that no matter what he thought, this Corpsman thought very differently.

"I am here at the request of the Military High Command. I have a talent for getting people to talk when others cannot."

But apparently it's a lost art with you!, he thought as the Corpsman nodded at the words and recorded the Sith's travel chip, encrypted as it was.

The encounter left Perrin thinking silently to himself. The Republic had the Jedi Order that prompted Palpatine to issue his General Order to eliminate them before retaining control. The Jedi of the time were very credible threats. The Empire has the Sith Order. With our new activities towards a more independent design, do they view us as a credible threat? Not Hyfe, surely. But what about the human leadership? Bhindi Drayson or Simon Kaine?

He took one last look at the world governed by the Grand Moff and felt an unbidden shiver.

Was there a secret General Order floating about? And if so, who would carry it out?

His eyes traveled to the Jedi Corps insignia on nearby uniforms before joining his escort to board the craft that would take him from this place.






At the Prime Minister's speech and gesture, one phrase went through the Grand Moff's mind...


What the Fu...







"Your Imperial majesty, I come before you today to admit my... error in judgement. My mistake. My failure on behalf of the Coalition and its' people. The raid at Bilbringi has prompted a wave of violence across the galaxy far in excess than that which a government can attempt to excuse or accept. As the Prime Minister of the Coalition, responsibility for this costly disaster is mine and mine alone, and so I come before you on bended knee to admit my error and beg an end to the fighting before things spiral even further out of control. In return for my admission of failure, I am willing to make concessions politically and diplomatically to the Empire by way of reparations for my mistake. I will do what is necessary to preserve the integrity of the Coalition and its' member-states in light of this new confrontation, and I admit freely and to all assembled here and in the futher galaxy, that I was wrong and have failed you. As such, I am at the mercy of his majesty."



Emperor Hyfe's face had gone from amused mirth at the discomfort of his enemy to irritated scowl as Regrad's speech progressed.

As the alien knelt prostrate before the Emperor of the Galaxy, Daemon Hyfe sent his Supreme Commander an annoyed glance.

"Does he want me to lop his head off and be done with this issue?" he asked Kaine in a low voice.

Kaine's expressionless face changed ever so slightly as his eyes went from the Coalition Prime Minister to the Emperor. "Remember, Lord.."

"Wait," Hyfe held up a hand and Kaine's voice stopped.

With narrowed eyes, an irritated countenance and a voice bordering on incredulity, the Emperor moved one foot down a step as if hoping for a closer look at any attempt at deception.

"Remain where you are, Prime.. Minister. Minister. Servant. Servant of people... Tell me... Are you saying that you ordered your fleet to assassinate Grand Moff Drayson?"


The silence within the Palace screamed out.

The million-credit question. For whatever reason, the distinction of responsibility for the attack and how it was conducted had become a critical issue. Regrad recognized an opportunity to shift blame effortlessly from himself to the Onyxians.

Truth be told, he hadn't ordered them to assassinate Bhindi Drayson - he didn't need to. All he'd done was examine the specs of the mission and give the authorization for Joren to attack on behalf of the Coalition. The Onyxians were free to run and direct their battles as they saw fit, and had he been in Joren's place he would have made much the same decision.

The Empire didn't understand such separation of powers, however, and would surely scapegoat the Onyxians instead of the Coalition at large, arguing they had overstepped their 'bounds'. There would be no dishonesty in Regrad's words, and to some extent it would spare the Coalition as a whole from the wrath of the Empire.

There was, however, the matter of honour. Of integrity. Of standing by an ally and making the right decision. Though he knelt in the heart of darkness, could he so betray the Onyxians over to the Empire out of fear?

"Your distinction in terms is an invisible one, your majesty - I gave Joren Logan permission to conduct the attack on Bilbringi to his discretion. Should he have found the shipyards impervious to assualt, it's only natural a good commander would turn towards the next most-valued target on the field. Once such permission is given the specifics are moot, either way he would have attacked Bilbringi and either way we would still be gripped in this disaster."

He could not hold eye contact with the Emperor for long, every moment under so hateful and disgusted a gaze passing like an hour. His course set, his next words he chose carefully so that all may hear them. "The Onyxians are no more to blame for their actions at Bilbringi than I and my government are. I was the one to authorize the mission and entrusted Joren with supreme command of the cross-Coalition forces there. Please, your majesty, I beg you on my knees - spare my people your wrath from my mistake. I am responsible for this failure, take from me what you demand in recompense and call back your fleets."

There was an inaudible sound as Regrad finished that last sentance, that of the last shreds of his pride wilting away. Though his face was gaunt with sadness and his teeth were clenched with pain, inside the suffering was of a far greater degree than perhaps the galaxy would ever know. Regrad stood his ground before the Emperor.

^

IMPERIAL PALACE OF HIS AUGUST MAJESTY EMPEROR HYFE

"Your distinction in terms is an invisible one, your majesty - I gave Joren Logan permission to conduct the attack on Bilbringi to his discretion. Should he have found the shipyards impervious to assualt, it's only natural a good commander would turn towards the next most-valued target on the field. Once such permission is given the specifics are moot, either way he would have attacked Bilbringi and either way we would still be gripped in this disaster."



"One is a punitive attack and the other is attempted murder of a high ranking Imperial!" snapped Azrael Zell. "The distinction is plain as the scales on your fucking face! Which Imperial commander or high ranking citizen of the Empire will the remainder of your fleet, if you can still call it that, be targeting next?"


"Zell," the tone in Emperor Hyfe's voice was a warning.

EMPIRE AT WAR: OBLITERATION

"I am receiving updates, Captain. Apparently the Empire has crossed the Onyxian border with advance forces."

Captain Globbula frowned. "Forces in advance of what?"

The Comm Officer's response was less than helpful. "No information at this time."

He remembered the Contegorian Officer's remarks, "...those were not our objectives."

The Empire wouldn't be happy about that. Their measure of response would be comparable to how much they valued Grand Moff Drayson. We've made this personal.

IMPERIAL PALACE OF HIS AUGUST MAJESTY EMPEROR HYFE

"The Onyxians are no more to blame for their actions at Bilbringi than I and my government are. I was the one to authorize the mission and entrusted Joren with supreme command of the cross-Coalition forces there. Please, your majesty, I beg you on my knees - spare my people your wrath from my mistake. I am responsible for this failure, take from me what you demand in recompense and call back your fleets."


Daemon Hyfe advanced a few steps down towards where Regrad knelt, his Royal Guards taking up flanking positions on either side of the Coalition leader.

The aura of total submission in the face of total power was complete and perhaps this was addling the Azguard's mind for Regrad (and presumably his government) was attempting to take the blame for Bilbringi and if the Onyxians were no more to blame...


..well, they were up to their necks in it!


The Emperor pursed his lips and began to chuckle.

It was not a pretty sound.



"Simon Kaine was right... you are changing.

However, this one fact escapes your notice:


You are not an Emperor

You are not a King.


You are a minister.


You are a servant.... of people.


You are a government "of the people,by the people, for the people.."


Therefore, your people are at the very HEART of this matter!!"



At the raise in the Emperor's voice, the people in the room tensed, his soldiers standing at the ready.


Hyfe narrowed his eyes staring at the reptilian Coalition leader. "If I simply allow you to take the blame for this, then let me tell you what will happen:

First, your people will revile you for making them seem weak before us and so they'll elect someone else as Coalition Prime Minister who tickles their ears while fleecing them from behind as they, once more, hurl their young men and women at the might of the Empire."

The Emperor's voice went colder. "And when we defeat them, and they come to bow before me again (assuming he is as good a servant of your people as you are) and asks to take the blame, whatever shall I do then?"


The leader of the New Order stretched out his hand and Regrad began to lift in the air startling not only the Coalition Prime Minister but everyone else in the room.

"I've seen that path, Azguard. I know what the future is bringing. To keep your people from the accountability of their actions is to doom them to repeat their mistakes. Since your Coalition is so fond of democracy and you are so fond of bowing and scraping and serving people content in allowing the mob-rule rather than lead yourself, the lesson of leadership to be learned will be for that mob. It was their failure to elect bipartisan leadership and instead, empower old Outer Rim Soveriegnty leaders. It was their failure in fueling these self-styled leaders' hatred of the Empire. It was their giving of their children over to this commonwealth's war machine."

Hyfe spat, "Those ARE Commonwealth soldiers we are holding for Glee Anselm!"


"If these people, after seeing their oh-so-noble-leaders with their hands in the cookie jar, had cried out in outrage for their removal, I would not have dead solders at Bilbringi!"


"No... Your life isn't worth that of an Imperial soldier's! Not by far!"


Simon Kaine's eyes looked at the Emperor's quivering hand and wondered if Hyfe was about to choke the life out of the Azguard.


"Hear me well, Azguard, and hear me true. I have declared the Onyxian Commonwealth a rogue state and it will be treated as such. This is a state that we intend to occupy and it is a state we intend to pacify! Any resistance in the form of military will be assumed to be the supporter of this rogue government and will be crushed accordingly.

Know that while we will occupy this state, it will not be a part of the Empire! These people have hated us for years and do not deserve to be called Imperial Citizen nor enjoy the benefits such a title brings!

Their status and their claim to benefits will be determined by their desire for peace and their ability to live with their fellow man. We will occupy this region until it is completely pacified!"


The Emperor's expression softened slightly. "But I am not without mercy. I love my people as much as you love yours. Therefore, any Coalition warship that stands down when our occupation forces arrive will go unmolested. Any person within the Onyxian Occupation Zone who wishes to be a Coalition citizen is free to leave for Coalition space.

Your core worlds will be overcrowded and your economy will need to feed, cloth and house these people so perhaps, when it comes to election time once again for the great democratic state of the Coalition, the people will remember that actions have consequences and choose leaders of more moderate persuasions.


This is the political concession you have asked for.


We will also be securing land on Metalorn for the construction of an Embassy. Rather than running all the way to the center of the galaxy when mistakes are made, we will ensure that you and/or your successors will have an Imperial ear nearby. We will supply and support this Embassy on Metalorn and you will not interfere with it. The Embassy soil will be considered sovereign Imperial soil. The Embassy will not interfere with the planet's day to day business nor will they interefere with your people's day to day lives. We have agreed to recognize your secret charter with Kashan who go by the term: Contegorian Confederation and accept that they are Coalition. They seem to be a kindred warrior race and respectable enough fighters. Therefore, in light of their signing this charter and their commitment to Coalition rule, I know they will not balk at this but will comply as their duty compels and requires them too.


This is the diplomatic concession you have asked for."


Regrad was lowered slowly and as his feet touched the hard floor of the Throne Room, Hyfe walked up to him. "You may stand in my presence if you feel you are my equal and feel that you are a leader of your people rather than their servant. You have a weak central government and your member states are dictating to you rather than waiting in silence for your orders to be issued. They signed a charter to be in this Coalition and they feel this entitles them to take without giving. They do not seem to realize that they have signed this charter saying they will obey their central government. You represent that government, Azguard, and when you return, you need to make examples of those that would defy your orders and defy the progress your own intergalactic efforts have achieved. You cannot let the mob take over or everything you've worked for will go up in ashes. And you will have the Onyxian Occupation Zone to show your people. To empower your efforts to show them that only with your leadership can this Coalition surive intact.

Who knows, perhaps in time, once we've seen a change in the coalition and stronger leadership motivated by a healthy sense of self preservation, and once Pacification is complete, we may relinquish our occupation secure in the knowledge that, under your firm control, that region will never rebel from the ideals that we all cherish. Peace, Order and Security.

If you choose to stand before me, I will feel confident in allowing the prisoners captured on Glee Anselm to return with you home and to their families. I believe the Anselmi will be satisfied with having pacification imposed on the rogue state that allowed their suffering rather than having these soldiers chance falling victim to their pain."


Hyfe turned around and walked a few steps higher before turning around. "Or, you may kneel content in your position as servant. Scamper back to your people and again, use the Onyxian Occupation Zone as a testament to their failure with mob-rule. They, of course, will not accept that they made mistakes and they will thrust all the blame to you and your inability to compensate for their inequities.

And when they attack us, under a different elected leader, once again, we will occupy that state as well. Or, we may simply destroy the Coalition once and for all thus closing the book on the grand, failed experiment called: Democracy.

Your punishment will be the judgement of your own people."

Throughout history there are points from which a thousand different branches, a thousand different futures sprout. Such a time was upon the Coalition and the Galaxy.

In one time, Regrad - consumed by his frustrations and righteous anger at dealing with his enemy - leaps to his feet and dies in a hail of laser fire while plunging his sword into the heart of the Emperor. In another, he dies burying the blade into Simon Kaine. In some he storms from the room, spouting a few proud lines about principle and democracy before leading the Coalition to its' destruction. In a rare few he even freezes up or panics, accomplishing nothing.

Regrad adjusted himself in the aftermath of his unpleasent Force encounter, looking towards Hyfe, who awaited an answer.

"Your terms... are satisfactory, your majesty. On behalf of the Coalition, I accept your claim on the Onyxian Commonwealth and will not contest its' occupation. Coalition forces and personnel will be recalled from the area and will not interfere. An embassy of sovereign territory will be established on Metalorn from which the Empire might operate.

"Should you be satisfied with our fulfillment of these terms, we will accept the release of our prisoners at your leisure. I will return to the Coalition and ensure the directions of this agreement are carried out."

The Prime Minister paused, uncertain if he should bow. A strong, burning resistance to the idea conflicted with an equally strong desire to make the right decisions while still in the Emperor's presence. After a second of indecision, he bowed once more, the final submission asssented to. "If our business is concluded, I'll excuse myself, your majesty.

"May the Force be with you."

It sort of slipped out. He hadly even noticed he'd said it for a moment, then agonizingly hoped no one else had either. That sensation of fear was quick to pass, however, as a new thought filtered down to him. I am not his bootlick. Let others fear their words in his presence - I am defeated, but I am not destroyed.

Regathering his pride and character, Regrad stood a little straighter and walked with a bit more of the air of the leader of a galactic superpower as he was escorted from the throne room. The meeting was over. There was nothing left to talk about, after all, and the galaxy had a short attention span - even for the talk of emperors and prime ministers.

Of course, his troubles had only just begun. Soon Regrad would have to pacify his mutinous provinces and a hostile House of Representatives. Much as he hated to admit it, the Emperor might have had some points about centralization and restoration of the rule of law, not that it'd be any easier to restore those things after his allies heard the Emperor advocating them.

Still, for just a few moments before the impact of his agreement sank in, he managed to pass through the Imperial palace as one deserving to be there.

The pattern of Regrad had been studied. His behavior reduced to a finite number of potential actions from which certain desired results could have been hoped for. The Azguard was stubborn. The Azguard was rash and his refusal to see anything but his own desire left the leaders of the Empire expecting....



Emperor Hyfe:


The creature lept, screaming wildly as a cornered animal. While engineered for combat, the Emperor of the Galactic Empire felt no fear. For his servant was the Force and a powerful servant it was. The Stormtroopers had begun to fire but the creature's sudden leap had startled them. The Emperor was the creature's closest valuable target and in one smooth motion, the decorative blade cleared it's sheath.

But not before Hyfe called upon his servant and in one swift moment, moved the Azguard's attack from him to ...


Simon Kaine.


The additional push propelled the screaming creature well past Hyfe and as the Azguard's blade slid into the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces.

Kaine's eyes registered a brief surprise and before they closed they moved over to a smirking Emperor.

Weapons fire converged removing the Coalition Prime Minister from this life and Daemon Hyfe went on to revive an Empire at War. The Coalition died the next day.


Yes, Daemon Hyfe smiled as he felt the anger rising within the cornered Azguardian.

Let your anger flow ...and release!


The Azguard adjusted himself as soon as his feet were on solid ground and spoke those fateful words..


"Your terms... are satisfactory, your majesty.."


Hyfe's dreams faded like a child being told he could only eat half a cake instead of the whole thing and the future he desired blurred.

And as the Coalition Prime Minister walked away with his head held high, he could not help but feel a profound disappointment.

"For now.." he whispered.



Simon Kaine:


The creature lept, screaming wildly as a cornered animal. Regrad's pattern of behavior indicated he would fight when backed into a wall. The Stormtroopers had begun to fire but the creature's sudden leap had startled them. The Emperor was the creature's closest valuable target and in one smooth motion, the decorative blade cleared it's sheath and plunged into the Galactic Empire's leader.

Or so the holonet thought.

Kaine knew Hyfe was powerful with the Force and would focus his energies on the direct confrontation. Which is why an invisible dart fired from behind by a trusted Spartan imbedding the Emperor in the small of his back. The poison both surprised and immobilized the Emperor just long enough for the Azguard's blade to strike true.


Spartans fired immediately after the strike bringing the Prime Minister down but the wound to the Emperor was fatal.


In a grand show of regret, Kaine assumed the mantle of Emperor and the attacks on the Coaltion intensified bringing down that democratic state once and for all.

A small price to pay to solidify the Empire once more.

Check and Mate.


Or not, for instead of blindly holding on to something fighting to the death, the Prime Minister merely adjusted himself and said...


"Your terms... are satisfactory, your majesty.."


Kaine's eyes lit up in interest as he realized that while he won this round, the game was far from over.


"A masterful retreat..." he murmured.



Azrael Zell:


Perhaps the one man who truly knew what Azguards could do had fully expected the blade to be hurled in the Supreme Commander's direction while rushing the Emperor with his claws.

The startled Stormtroopers would have followed the arc of the Prime Minister's wake and would probably have struck the Emperor by accident.

Kaine would have bled out as Zell rushed to the Emperor to feign help. Before the startled (and perhaps injured) Emperor could get his wits and with the dead weight of Azguard flesh pinning him down, Zell would bring out a knife slitting a part of the Azguard's throat. An unusual gesture for the Prime Minister would have been dead but for anyone knowing the anatomy of an Azguard, perhaps not so strange for the area slit would have been a dormant poison sack perhaps used during the reptilian species more primitive life.

In any event, the poison would have dripped onto the Emperor deadening his nerves. Death would have soon followed as would his rise if he could keep that Drayson bitch at bay!

In any event, it would have been a grand chance that actually just occurred to him then and as the Azguard adjusted himself upon finding firm ground beneath his feet, he said:


"Your terms... are satisfactory, your majesty.."


Zell watched the uppity alien walk out with his head held high and felt a grand sense of irritation.



"Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed.