Desaria considered the requests for a moment, and nodded. The SS was far from the most popular arm of the military; many members of the General Staff and not at least half the Marshals of the Empire and Grand Admiral Ravenstein were virulently opposed to their continued existence. The Baron had no illusions that he would earn a great deal of ire for his decision, but the decision was his.

" Zhukov, I remember the name. Some one you served with during Meteor. I do not see a problem with that - though he will have to accept a commission as Moff and admission to the Politikal Kommissariat. He will govern civilly and you militarily.

" As for these recent acquisitions, that can be done as well. Those systems are nearby and such a redrawing of the galactic map is easy enough.

" Colonel-General, you do realize I am putting a great deal of my own reputation in this venture, putting the SS into such prominence." Desaria's eyes narrowed. " Do not fail me."

Vos nodded. "Zhukov will be glad to serve the Empire in that capacity." And I get the guaranteed support of the government in whatever I do, thought Wes silently. After a pause, he stared directly at Desaria and replied, "Grand Admiral, Sir, if I was to fail at this operation, I would personally end my own life rather than suffer the shame of defeat or cause you to suffer such shame because of me or my men. We will accomplish all you ask."

Vos paused once more, then continued, "If I may ask, Sir, you are from Kuat, are you not? One of my commanders, Colonel Racen Selere, is also from the nobility there. He has told me he idolized you as he grew up. You were a few years ahead of him in the military academy, I believe."

" Selere, Selere..." Desaria thought to himself for a moment, but was unable to recall the name. In his graduating class on Raltiir there were seven thousand officer cadets, another ten thousand in the other four classes behind him. " I may have been cadet instructor during some of his classes; my senior year I helped in Military History and Destroyer Tactics VIII. Does he remember whether or not we met?"

Vos thought for a moment. "I don't know, Sir. He never said." A short pause followed, then Wes continued. "He's head of the SS Kommandos now. As a matter of fact, he's here with me on Coruscant, and I'm sure he would consider it an honor to meet you, if you have the time." Unashamedly, Wes was attempting to promote the SS, though Desaria would not know this. Selere, though he could be brutal at times, was refined. Besides that, he was quite large; in fact, the Empire had been forced to custom-make his armor. His chest alone measured 55 inches around. And he was Imperial to the core. It might give Desaria a bit more confidence in the upstart Schutzstaffel were they to meet.

" Of course I'll meet him, perhaps you and your senior officers would accept an invitation to dine with the several Guardsmen and myself this evening."

The Grand Admiral motioned to the railing where both he and Vos looked out many, many storeys down at the parading troops. Over three meters tall, the Imperial Standard was passing with an honour guard through the gates of the Palace Courtyard. The Grand Admiral and Colonel-General, Guardsman and SS, saluted the flag each served - in different manners, one goal.

E pluribus, unum

[font=Arial]That Night[/font]
[font=Arial]ISD V Tyrant[/font]
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[font=Arial]The massive ship hung suspended from the sky above Coruscant, dwarfing all that surrounded her. From the perspective of those on board those surrounding craft, she was humongous. But from a distance, she was but a speck next to the city-planet. To those who knew the ship's class, they might have been able to notice certain subtle changes even from the outside. They would be completely unprepared for what greeted them inside.[/font]
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[font=Arial]As a shuttle landed, it would be greeted with the sight of multiple E-web and light blaster cannon turrets. Around the edges of the hanger were multiple blaster-resistant bunkers, the largest of these near the exits. It was an extraordinarily defensible position. Were the observer extraordinarily observant, he or she might notice protrusions from the wall, nozzles projecting into the hanger.[/font]
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[font=Arial]As the officers of the Imperial Guard exited their shuttle, they were met by one company of Waffen-SS marines and two companies of regular marines standing at attention. At the forefront of the group stood twelve SS Kommandos in full dress blacks, hard and cold as ice. They were led by Commander Rhytrian Thrahrn, and they were Black Squadron, the best pilots in the Kommandos. Thrahrn himself had led the assault on Bothuwai, and it had been these pilots who had destroyed the shield generator on the planet with one volley of missiles.[/font]
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[font=Arial]Thrahrn, a strict military man, stepped forward and saluted crisply. "Grand Admiral Desaria, Vice Admiral Count Messhir, Lieutenant-General Count von Strachwitz, Vice-Admiral Makarov, Colonel Jurror, Colonel Meyer, welcome to the Tyrant." Salutes were returned, and Thrahrn continued, "Colonel-General Vos has asked me to give you a short tour of some of the unique features of the ship. He apologizes for not being here to meet you himself, but a problem arose in the remainder of the fleet stationed at Echtabahn that needed his immediate attention; I'm sure you as military men can understand. He will still be at dinner, though."[/font]
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[font=Arial]Desaria nodded, and Thrahrn turned sharply. With a nod to the Kommandos, they fell into step as an escort, four to each side and three behind the group. Thrahrn walked with Desaria and the other Guardsmen, explaining the features of the Tyrant. "As you can see, we have expanded the standard defenses of a normal Imperitor and have made it much more difficult for a boarding party to come through the hanger. Not only are there E-web and blaster-cannon turrets - which, by the way, can be fired remotely - but the blaster-resistant bunkers hold fifty men each, and the larger ones can hold up to a hundred soldiers. If you look closely, you can see the nozzels protruding from the wall; these are gas emitters. Depending on which ones are activated, we can quickly fill the room with either poison gas or a sleep gas. If this does not work, we can always vent the hanger to space, but we try to avoid this as it generally leads to the destruction of fighters. We try to avoid the destruction of Imperial property as much as possible."[/font]
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[font=Arial]Depending on the guest, one might take the standard turbolift from there to wherever they were headed. Or they might, as this group did, take a special turbolift from the hanger to the deck on which the officer's lounge was placed. The turbolift was a bit unusual for a Star Destroyer, as it was fitted with padded seats. Thrahrn, seeing the disapproving looks of some of the Guard, said, "Don't worry, we only use this turbolift for distinguished guests. The SS does not waste money on useless comforts."[/font]
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[font=Arial]When the turbolift stopped, the Guardsmen were greeted with the sight of two repeating blaster cannons at the end of a long hallway. Thrahrn said, "We picked up the idea for those on board a ship at Li'eston. When Colonel Selere led a boarding party onto an enemy Star Destroyer, they were nearly stopped by a setup such as this. The Colonel's innovation got past it, but not before we had lost several men. Several of the important corridors are already outfitted in like manner, and we plan to have the rest done within the month. Every so often we also have begun adding sets of blast doors fifty feet apart. Within that area, it is wired so that electricity can be sent to fry anyone inside once the doors are shut."[/font]
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[font=Arial]A few minutes later, the group reached the officer's lounge. It wasn't extraordinarily large, but it was of a decent size. All manner of recreational devices covered the room. Thrahrn explained, "We in the SS have found that the particular tasks that we perform place enormous amounts of stress on both the body and the mind. It is important, therefore, that we have a place outfitted for officers to be able to relieve themselves of that stress while off-duty, if only for a brief time. It is also important that we keep ourselves in top physical condition; hence the weight room and multiple exercise devices in adjoining rooms. The Kommandos have another smaller lounge similar to this one on a lower level."[/font]
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[font=Arial]Passing through the lounge, the group finally came to the officer's dining room. Thrahrn asked the Guardsmen to wait outside for just a moment, then he went through the doors and the Kommandos departed for various other duties. Less than a minute later, Thrahrn reappeared and said, "Your Excellencies, the SS is prepared to receive you. If you will follow me."[/font]
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[font=Arial]Entering the room, the Guardsmen could see a richly furnished and decorated dining room. It was the most comfort they had probably ever seen aboard a warship. As they entered, the officers of the SS entered from the other side, Colonel-General Vos, now wearing his new insignia, in the lead. The two groups met in the center of the room, and Vos saluted Desaria. "Your Excellencies," he stated, "welcome to the Tyrant. May I introduce Colonel Racen Selere, head of the Kommandos, Captain Typton, commander of this ship and de facto commander of the SS fleet, General Dietrich, head of the Waffen-SS, General Demelhuber, commander of the 1st SS Division, Colone Krutz, commander of the 1st SS-Panzer Regiment, Commander Tarash Fleetfire of Gray Squadron, and Commander Myrax Lomax of Green Squadron of the Kommandos."[/font]
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[font=Arial]The officers were all in dress blacks, with the various trim and the collar insignia indicating branch of service. The one thing in common was the double white lightning bolt on the left collar of each uniform, the symbol of the SS. The SS officers, especially the Kommandos, looked at the Guardsmen with a cold, appraising eye. The numerous medals caught Fleetfire's eye, and he muttered softly under his breath, "Kriffing tin-chesters. The arrogance!" Fleetfire, and the SS for that matter, did not believe in excessive decorations; they saw them as a hindrance to the mission. If medals did not matter, then individuals would be more likely to work as a team. The air between the two groups was tense; something would be needed to break the ice.[/font]

The appointments of the room - none of the Guardsmen knew whether it was a dedicated dining hall, rec area, whatever - were certainly lavish. The normal multi-coloured steel panels of battleship corridors was covered with wooden panels stained a dark red-brown. Glow panels were nowhere to be seen, illumination coming from clumps of lights in ornate golden casements modeled after chandaliers of old. A good deal of time and effort had been spent into fitting the room out for lavishness, and to the Grand Admiral at least, the refinements were pleasing.


As a whole, the men of the Guard fanned out in a line abreast to meet the ensemble of SS men. Grand Admiral Desaria stood at the center of the line, his visor-cap tucked firmly under his left arm. On either side stood some figures that any reader of societal Holo casts or magazines could easily recognize: Vice Admiral Alfons Messhir, a renowned Bakuran noble who commanded the Guard's largest naval formation; Lieutenant-General Graf von Strachwitz, an older Walker officer who had lead armored units into battle over a hundred times; Colonel Jurror, once the Prince Regent of Paladia until a Coalition campaign drove him into exile - and that did not name them all!


The SS men all but squared off with their guests, each side quietly regarding the other. One line faced another, the space between as tense as if defusing a neutron bomb. The air seemed thick and nothing could hide the sneers of the SS men's faces or the condecension of the faces of the Guardsmen.


Grand Admiral Desaria looked back and forth along the line. Then it hit, the low murmur of one SS man, a fighter officer by his insignia, to the ears of every Guardsman. [font=Arial]"Kriffing tin-chesters. The arrogance!"[/font]


[font=Arial]The Baron of Raenoria bit his tongue, refusing to dignify the remark with a response. Colonel Kurt 'Defender' Meyer, however, was a proud officer who could not be dashed by any quip or quote. His pride, however, could be wounded, and from the reddening of his face, it was. He pointed to the Imperial Cross at his neck and smiled as he noticed that not one of the black-clad officers had been so decorated. [/font]


[font=Arial]" What's wrong trooper? Is it our fault you've not done anything worthy of one of these?"[/font]

Fleetfire's face turned bright red at the remark. Whether it was from anger or embarassment, no one could tell. His response never came, for a loud guffawing came from the center of the line. Colonel Selere, his massive bulk shacking with laughter, commented through the laughs, "Well spoken, Colonel!" Selere was actually the only SS officer to have come close to holding an Imperial Cross; however, the fact that he had not actually participated in the fight on Valinor but instead directed it from behind the lines had disqualified him in the minds of several. Instead, he had been awarded the War Merit Cross, a step down. That medal was displayed visibly, along with his others. But medals were few in the SS, an intentional omission. They were not much for showing off.

Selere continued, "Forgive the Commander, Your Excellencies. We are used to only seeing medals displayed on those who cannot let their abilities speak for themselves. Your Excellencies most certainly do not fall into that category. I know of the accomplishments of some of you, particularly Grand Admiral Desaria and Colonel Meyer, and they far outpace anything that we have done."

Wes smiled. Selere might be big, and he might seem rough, but when it came to formal occasions his training among the nobility of Kuat came in handy. The SS officers lost their hardened look at Selere's words, more willing now to accept the over-decorated Guardsmen. If Selere, one of the most prestigious of the Kommandos, was willing to dine with them, then how could the others do any less?

The tension that had built with alarming alacrity was pierced by a pride driven quip; for a long moment, Grand Admiral Desaria felt his muscles twitch as his left arm moved ever so slightly to the ceremonial dagger hanging off belt. Ever the soldier, he eyed every SS man there and wondered just which one would challange Colonel Meyer to a duel which all too quickly embroil all of them as a matter of honour. Then, before any had a chance to call another out, a large-framed SS officer next to General Vos opened his mouth and let out a bark of a laugh. He apologized with them same gutteral accent Desaria spoke - he too must have been from Kuat - and continued to laugh. To stave off a retort, the Baron of Raenoria opened his lips and laughed as well.


" You know, I above all stand on ceremony but here, amongst ourselves, if we refer to each other by title none of us will be able to say anything real at all!"


Vice Admiral Messhir chuckled at that, his bushy grey mustache contorting as he did. Between gasps for air he added, " Yes, I think rank should be sufficient. Don't you agree, Your Excellency?"


" Of course, Your Grace," Desaria replied, grinning widely at the conundrum - by rank, he was superior to every many in the room, however, by noble title, he was junior to both the Prince and the Count. As he laughed along, his black gloved hand relaxed and resumed its work of holding the visor cap firmly under arm, no longer worried about an impulse from the Grand Admiral's brain that would have sent it to the dagger's hilt. Desaria looked at Colonel General Vos and was able to quickly resume control of his amusement, though a grin remained. " Perhaps we should sit, General, and we can further snipe at each other from a more comfortable position."

Newly-appointed Colonel-General Vos, of no nobility at all, twice defector, smiled as the Guardsmen caught on to the humor and laughed along. He replied, "Aye, Admiral, I much prefer to criticize my superiors from a sitting position."

The circular wooden table was a work of art. Seemingly seamless, in truth it could be manually expanded or contracted to fit an exact number of guests. It's red-brown wood hid perfectly the panels that had been laid to accomodate the Guardsmen. There were exactly fourteen place settings, to accomodate the eight SS officers and six Guardsmen. Seating had been an issue; should it be arranged by rank? Or should the SS and Guard alternate seats? In the end, an alternate seating arrangement had been worked out. Wes was just glad he hadn't needed to determine who sat at the head. That could have been very sticky.

The guests were seated, and the first course was brought in, an appetizer originally from Valinor. The SS had been introduced to it during their combat there, and it had been transported to Echtabahn from there. It consisted of a large white vegitable, considered a spice by some, fried and cut to resemble its name, a 'blooming onion,' for it was made of onion and the cuts resembled a blooming flower. A native Valinorian sauce was also provided for dipping.