In Orbit Over Hapes – Conquerer class Battleship The Crown’s Blade


The lights were dimmed, the easel was set, and Vis’kag’s twenty eighth was playing quietly in the background. Everything was perfect, except for the face of the Crowned Prince of Hapes staring straight at him. Had it been anyone else at that moment, Nathanos would not have taken the call. Anyone else.

It was not because Dakkon was the Crowned Prince. Nathanos did not have much respect for many members of the royal family…many of his kin. It was not because Dakkon was his cousin. It was because Nathanos respected the hell out of Dakkon, and because he was a strong supporter of the Hapes Accord. Not just because of the alliance with the Commonwealth it entailed, but because of the pedestal it ripped the royal family forcefully off of.

Of course Dakkon had ensured their continued involvement politically within the Commonwealth, but despite that the royal family would never be the…celebrities the Consortium had made them. As a prince of a different definition himself, Nathanos was very glad to be taken out of the spotlight he had never asked for. He was free.

“Good evening, your majesty,” again, had it been anyone else Nathanos’s voice would have been dripping with sarcasm, but not a hint was to be found in his greeting. He meant it, “This is most certainly unexpected.”

“How are you, Admiral?” Dakkon greeted back, smiling, “I hope I am not intruding on anything of importance?”

“Please, your majesty, Nathanos will do just fine,” Nathanos returned the smile, “I was merely painting. You have caused no great disturbance.”

That was most definitely untrue. Nathanos valued his time alone to paint very much, and those of his crew who had interrupted him while he was painting had often been met with harsh reprimands and, on several occasions, severe punishments, which had been rescinded when Nathanos had once again entered into a more serene state of mind.

“Very well, Nathanos,” Lupercus grinned, “But only if you return the favor.”

“Of course, Dakkon,” Nathanos said, “Now, to what do I owe the occasion?”

There were very few Hapans who had the privilege to address the Crowned Prince with only his first name. In older times, it had been a crime of the highest offense, likely punishable by death. But, especially in recent times, reforms had eventually come about. But still, nobody ever called the Crowned Prince by his first name without him first telling them they could. Old fears died hard.

“You have no doubt heard of the Hapes Accord?” Dakkon asked.

“I heard just yesterday, your ma…Dakkon,” Nathanos replied.

“And what do you think of it?” Dakkon said, “And please, as my cousin, be honest. I have a hell of a time getting a straight answer from anyone in the palace. It’s as if they think I’ll have them flayed if they disagree with me.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you, Dakkon,” they both chuckled slightly at that, “In all honesty, Dakkon, I believe it’s a step in the right direction. My personal feelings about what this means for the future of Hapan society aside, we were going to have to face the galaxy someday. We couldn’t deny our membership to the universe forever.”

“I’m glad you approve, Nathanos. Very glad,” Dakkon said, “This will make what I must ask of you much easier.”

“And what is that?” Nathanos asked, his interest piqued more than a little.

“Do you know anything about how actual planet by planet integration into the Commonwealth proper is to be handled?” Dakkon asked, “It’s not very public yet, so it is understandable if you do not.”

“I am afraid I don’t,” Nathanos furrowed his brow, “Why?”

“Many of the planets in the Cluster value their isolation,” Dakkon replied, “And, especially under a new democratic form of government, I am not in a position to rob them from that without their approval. So that is why all Hapan planets who are in favor of the Hapes Accord must reapply for membership within the new, Commonwealth-allied Consortium. Those who are not in favor may choose not to.”

“You can’t be serious!” Nathanos gasped, “You’re talking about allowing planets to secede from the Consortium! Dakkon, you cannot be serious!”

“Calm yourself, Nathanos. I know how it sounds, but I assure you its not like that in truth,” Dakkon said reassuringly, “The Consortium will remain the Consortium, of course. We are all Hapans, and as much as I can’t rob my people of their isolation if they so choose, I cannot rob them of their heritage either. All planets in the Cluster will still be members of the Hapes Consortium. But only those who reapply for direct membership will be a member of the new Consortium government. The planets who do not may govern themselves, if they wish. All Cluster planets will still receive the same benefits of Consortium-proper planets; they just will not participate in the Commonwealth government. Not much will change in the end.”

Nathanos thought about this for a few moments.

“Still, there are some who may not view it the way you do, Dakkon,” Nathanos said at length, “What if this instigates violence? What if this instigates war?”

“Then those responsible will not be Hapan citizens, but criminals committing an act of insurrection,” Dakkon’s replied coldly, “And they will be dealt with accordingly. But I do not believe that this will happen, Nathanos. Like you said, you had not heard about this until I told you, and it shall remain as large of a news topic as it currently is. It’s all technical and political mumbo jumbo anyway. The Consortium is still the Consortium. Just on some insignificant level those who do not reapply will become allies, not fellow citizens.”

“I still believe you run the risk of gaining disfavor with many Hapans, Dakkon,” Nathanos replied after a moment’s pause, “But then…I suppose you already lost favor with those Hapans when the Hapes Accord was signed.”

“I don’t like doing it this way any more than you do,” Dakkon assured him, “But it’s the only way to do it without restricting the rights of the people.”

“But what does all of this have to do with me, Dakkon?” Nathanos asked.

“I was getting to that before you interrupted with your questions on philosophy,” Dakkon grinned.

“My sincerest apologies, your majes-”

“Oh, shut up,” Dakkon snickered, “Where you come in is with the reapplication process. I want The Crown’s Blade to serve as a member of the honor guard for the diplomatic envoys sent across the Cluster to lobby for reapplication into the Consortium.”

“Dakkon, The Crown’s Blade is a ship of war, and a formidable one,” Nathanos replied sternly, “With all due respect, do you really think serving as a member of an honor guard is the best way to use it?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Dakkon sighed, “You are right. There are liable to be many Hapans not very happy with the decision I have made. That’s why I want you to serve as a member of the honor guard, to serve as a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?”

“A reminder that I am their Crowned Prince,” Dakkon replied, “And that, having never questioned me before, it would be foolish to do so now, in our time of greatest need.”

“Are you saying you want me to bully them into reapplying?”

Dakkon’s eyes widened.

“No, Nathanos no! The rights of the people come first, and I will not scare them into seeing my way,” Dakkon quickly answered, “I need you to remind them that we can’t ignore the rest of the galaxy anymore. I need you to remind them that we need to act now before it is too late. Before all that is good in this galaxy is lost.”

“I understand, Dakkon,” Nathanos nodded, “Where am I headed?”

“Your first destination is Lorell.”

Leaving Orbit of Hapes – Conquerer class Battleship The Crown’s Blade


The hatch to his private quarters slid open, and Nathanos winced. There was only one person on board the entire vessel who would have the audacity to enter his quarters without request or announcement. He mentally prepared himself for the oncoming bombardment, massaging his temples.

“You ordered our departure from Hapes to Lorell without consulting me!” Captain Regina Dor’Athos nearly yelled at him, “I demand to know the meaning of this!”

Regina Dor’Athos was the captain of The Crown’s Blade. She was the woman in charge of Nathanos’s flag ship, which in reality made her little more than a conduit through which Nathanos relayed his orders to the crew of his ship and his fleet. Because of this, Regina was a very bitter woman, and she took it out on him.

“Direct orders from the Crowned Prince himself,” Nathanos answered in reply, “And that’s ‘I demand to know the meaning of this, sir.’.”

“Under what circumstances?!” this had caught her slightly off guard, but she held firm. And then, as an afterthought, “…sir!”

This was not to say by any means that Captain Dor’Athos was not adept at her position. Quite the contrary, Regina was one of the finest officers that Nathanos had had the privilege to serve with. This fact only served to embitter her even further. Nathanos could see where she was coming from; he only wished he didn’t have to deal with it every day.

“We’re to serve as the honor guard for the diplomatic envoys being sent to Lorell to lobby for their reapplication into the Commonwealth,” Nathanos said, “Prince Darksword wants us to leave as soon as possible.”

Not only was Regina in a position in which she had little to no real power, she was also a Hapan female serving underneath a Hapan male. And while Regina was not royalty, her longstanding position of power within the Royal Navy had pretty much convinced her that she was close to it. It did not matter much to her that Nathanos was a member of the royal family. She viewed him as inferior to her in every way, and it absolutely infuriated her that he was her commanding officer.

“We’re what?!” she nearly screeched, “One of the most powerful vessels of war in the Royal Hapan Navy, and we’re the entourage for a kriffing politician?!”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Nathanos agreed with her mildly, already bored with her tirade.

“It….it damn well better have been!” Regina stumbled, unsure of how exactly to respond the Nathanos’s agreement but intent on keeping up her enraged attitude, “And what the kriff did…did…”

“His majesty,” Nathanos offered.

“Did his majesty say to that?!” she finished, smoldering with anger and very pleased with how well she had recovered.

“He explained to me why it was necessary that The Crown’s Blade take upon this mission,” Nathanos explained, “What does it matter anyway? It’s a direct order from the Crowned Prince. It is not like we can politely decline.”

“What does it matter?! What does it matter?!” she nearly screeched, “We should be patrolling the Cluster or…or investigating that terrorist bombing out near Relephon! We should be…”

“We should be making love,” Nathanos interrupted, grinning, “And all of this arguing over a moot point is not helping.”

Captain Dor’Athos had been twice as hard to deal with before they had begun to have sex. At least with their physical relationship Nathanos could exercise some form of control over her. They may disagree with each other on every decision, and they may hate each other at times, but they were a man and a woman who were forced to deal with each other in close quarters on a daily basis. It was inevitable.

As a Hapan female, Regina was no exception. Her appearance screamed beauty. And Nathanos was by no means bad looking himself. Maybe not as stunningly handsome as his cousin, but he had no issues in that regard. Generations of ‘selective breeding’ in their culture had seen to that in the both of them. It was a relationship of convenience, and by no means a romantic one.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Nathanos?” Regina growled, “We never make love. We fuck.”

Nathanos grinned.



Rendezvous Point – Halfway to Lorell


“Reversion in 3…2…1…mark.”

“Hyperspace terminated. We have arrived at the rendezvous point.”

The Hapan Battle Dragons Invoker and Protector reverted into normal space moments afterward, flanking The Crown’s Blade. The Conquerer class Battleship was a monstrous vessel of war, but even so Nathanos was by his very nature a cautious man. He had brought the two Battle Dragons as an escort. Dakkon wanted them to send Lorell a message, and how much easier could that message be sent with three Royal Navy vessels of war than with one.

He stood at the center of the bridge, his chair behind him abandoned. Nathanos never sat in the chair. He preferred to keep mobile, in order to more effectively ensure that every station on the bridge was working smoothly and without problem. Captain Dor’Athos sat in her seat to the left of his own, peering about the bridge like a hawk. She was determined to discover any arising problems before he did. At first, it had perturbed Nathanos. He had been under the suspicion that she did it just to undermine his skills in front of the crew. But as time passed, he had begun to realize that she did not do it just to undermine him, but more because she desperately needed something to do, to make her feel effective.

Nathanos had sympathized with that, and had on more than one occasion let a situation he had spotted go unnoticed for the few seconds it had taken her to become aware of it and report it to him.

“Where is this…envoy we are supposed to be meeting?” Dor’Athos wondered aloud.

“Should be any moment-”

“Sir!” an ensign interrupted him, snapping his head up suddenly from his console, “A vessel has reverted from hyperspace close by. Hapan identification.”

“It looks like our envoy has arrived,” Nathanos turned to smile at the Captain, who scowled in response.

“Sir,” the head communications officer lifted his head from his console, “We are being hailed. Shall I put it on screen?”

“Hold on a moment, ensign,” Nathanos smiled and turned once more toward the Captain, “Captain Dor’Athos, would you like to do the honors?”

“…sir?” she questioned, her eyes widened.

“Invite our guest on board, and have him meet me in my quarters,” Nathanos said.

“Oh no…” Regina’s eyes widened even more, “You’re not going to…”

“You know me, Captain,” Nathanos winked, “I can’t resist.”



“Come.”

The door slid open, and a man of medium build stepped into the darkened quarters. Vis’kag was once more playing in the background. Nathanos sat at his desk, his chair turned away from the door and toward the easel propped up in the room. A single light in the room sat upon the desk, pointed at the easel and shining brightly. It illuminated the easel itself and a bit of Nathanos, but bathed the rest of the room in darkness.

“I am Marcus Orilcin, sir,” the man said in a very friendly sounding voice, “The diplomatic envoy.”

“I know who you are, son,” Nathanos smiled wanly, cocking his head to look at the man, “Well? Come on in. Don’t be shy.”

At his first impression of the man, Nathanos could not help but like him. He just seemed to have one of those airs about him that made him almost impossible to hate. Friendly looking face, relaxed posture that showed no signs of being capable of violence…even his voice, which Nathanos had only heard a sentence uttered from, was friendly and jovial.

Must be good at his job, Nathanos smirked.

“Captain Dor’Athos said you wished to meet with me personally,” Marcus continued, sounding a bit unsure as he entered fully into the room, “I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

“I do indeed, Mr. Orilcin,” Nathanos swiveled his chair to direct at the envoy, “And do not worry, I was just trying to get some painting done, almost an impossible task to accomplish when you have a job like mine. Tell me, what do you know about Grand Admiral Thrawn, Mr. Orilcin?”

“Sir?” Orilcin raised his brow.

“You do know of Grand Admiral Thrawn, Mr. Orilcin?” Nathanos raised his own brow in response.

“Of…of course, Admiral,” Marcus nodded, “He was one of the Empire’s greatest commanders and tacticians. He nearly single-handedly brought the Empire back from the brink of oblivion and almost defeated the, at the time newly formed New Republic. He was only stopped when he was…well, thought to have been assassinated. Not too many years ago he resurfaced and, for a time, took over Ossus.”

“Good, you know a great deal about the myth,” Nathanos nodded, grinning, “Now what do you know about the actual man?”

“Umm…not much, I’m afraid…” Marcus admitted, “Why do you ask?”

“Did you know he was an artist, Mr. Orilcin?” Nathanos asked.

“No, sir. I didn’t know that,” Marcus said.

“Not many people do,” Nathanos nodded, “He wasn’t a painter, or a sculptor…or any art that you or many others might consider…‘normal art’. No…his art was much more ingenious…and, well, terrifying. He was an artist of war. The battlefield was his easel. His ships were his paint. And he painted masterpieces…terrible masterpieces yes, but masterpieces nonetheless.

He was a great connoisseur of art as well. ‘Normal art’, that is. Paintings, sculptures, everything. He actually used art to become a greater artist himself. It was said that Thrawn could discern the key to defeating his enemies merely by understanding their species’ art. Whether that is true or not, he was an artist.”

“You seem to have a great deal of respect for the man,” Orilcin said at last, unsure of himself.

“And why is that a bad thing, Mr. Orilcin?” Nathanos asked sharply.

“No, sir. I didn’t mean anything against you…its just…well, he was an Imperial…”

“And he did terrible things,” the admiral admitted, nodding, “I am not saying that I agree with what he did, and who he supported. I hold no love for the Empire. Were Thrawn still around today, he would be my enemy. But despite all of that, one cannot help but respect his genius…twisted though it may have been.”

“…yes, sir,” Marcus coughed uncomfortably.

“I like you, Mr. Orilcin,” Nathanos said after a moment’s paused, “You seem like a good man. I have no doubt that you will help Lorell understand the necessity of reapplication with the Hapes Consortium.”

“Thank you, sir,” Orilcin smiled.

“You may go.”

Orilcin tried hard not to look hurried as he left the room. Shortly after Regina strode in, unannounced as always.

“Do you always have to scare away every guest aboard this ship with that damned Thrawn story?” she scowled.

“It’s the best way I know to discern the character of a man,” Nathanos shrugged.

“And what of this…Marcus Orilcin?” Dor’Athos asked.

“I like him,” Darksword admitted, “I think we’re in good hands.”

Deep Space- Half a Light Year from Rendevous Point

"Captain."

Captain Ferus Lollen stared at the grainy holographic image emanating from the projector in his personal quarters.

"Yes sir."

As the captain of an Imperial class Star Destroyer, Ferus Lollen said that particular phrase very infrequently. The Union's navy (the vessels that were no a part one of the various allied factions) resembled a mercenary outfit much more than any standard military organization. A well structured, highly equipped, and disciplined mercenary outfit, but one none the less. Ferus didn't have to kiss up to random admirals who popped in for a surprise inspection or fly in parade formation to please some high level politician. In the Union navy, fighting was not simply a priority, it was the priority. So addressing someone as sir was not something he was used to. Occasionally he received orders from someone like Brutus Nogoth, or Markus Thule and he addressed them by the title they carried as members of the Committee- Director. The image of the man flickering in front of him proposed something of a dilemma, as the figure had no title, or at least none that Ferus was aware.

The generic honorific seemed to be acceptable.

"Your forces are in position."

The words were more a statement of fact than a query. A question would have implied that there was the possibility that Ferus's force was not in position, and that was not acceptable. Ferus and the crew of the Noir Soleil were paid very handsomely (probably four or five times the salary of their counterparts in the Empire or the Galactic Coalition) but were subject to much more stringent penalties for failure.

"Yes sir."

The captain's chair of the Noir Soleil was in many ways the pinnacle command for Ferus. The ship was crewed by the best, maintained immaculately, upgraded constantly and involved more frequently in actual operations than any other vessel. It was also likely to be his death sentence-the Noir Soleil had seen more than its fair share of new commanders in the past couple years.

For Union operatives, failure was not an option. If Ferus failed to perform in a manner that the Union's high command felt was satisfactory, then he would be relieved of his command- and his life.

"The Crown's Blade has reached the rendezvous point. You will commence the operation will all due haste."

"By your command."

Ferus reached toward the projector, ready to cut the connection. A moment before his hand touched the shut off switch the voice cut him off.

"I'm not finished Captain."

Ferus froze, a chill running down his spine. He had assumed that the conversation was over, as he had been given a direct order, or he wouldn't have attempted to cut the transmission. Offending his superior might have been embarrassing, but it was not what caused the icy feeling that had cascaded down his back.

Tir Esias was blind.

Yet somehow he had known that Ferus was about to cut the communication link. There were several possibilities that could explain Tir's actions- and the ones that came immediately to mind didn't put Ferus at ease.

"A shuttle should be arriving at your position shortly. Its occupants are observers of the utmost importance- treat them with respect and deference- and allow them whatever privileges they require, as long as they do not interfere with accomplishing the objective."

"Of course sir."

"Captain, I do not need to remind you of the importance of this operation. Nor the consequences of its failure."

And with that the projection faded away.




"Captain on the bridge."

Ferus strolled confidently toward the high platform that looked down over the recessed control consoles of the Noir Soleil. A moment later he was seated in his surprisingly comfortable command chair, the king overlooking his kingdom.

All the uneasiness from his earlier interaction with Tir Esias had melted away as Ferus entered his element. The men around him were his both his brothers and his subjects, his minions and his men. He wore the same brownish uniform (tan was the color of the Union's naval personnel, as opposed to black, the color donned by Union security) that they sported as a sign of solidarity. His actions would determine whether they lived or died, and similarly, their performance was crucial to his own continued existence.

"Captain... we have a contact. Single shuttle, Hapan make. No transponder code."

"Allow it to board, they are expected."

Ferus peered out of the bridge viewport, but couldn't discern the shuttlecraft against the swirling backdrop of the Transitory Mists.

Getting through them had been a headache.

The Noir Soleil was not alone, however. A smaller, but no less familiar wedge-like profile stood out off the port bow- the Interdictor Cruiser Nevas Pas. Ahead of the two Imperial designs were a quartet of New Republic era vessels- the Majestic Class Heavy Cruisers Avarice, Anarchy, Amoral and Antithesis. The Majestics had taken a beating at the Battle of Tammar, but had been painstakingly repaired and refurbished and were probably in better condition now then when they were first constructed. Similarly, the Noir Soleil had taken a pounding, but now glistened with everything from an upgraded reactor to a new coat of paint. More importantly however, the crew of his Star Destroyer was not just highly trained- they were battle tested.

"Incoming communiqué, priority authorization. Captain, we'll need your code for the decrypt."

Ferus hopped up from his seat and climbed down a ladder into "the well". He tapped a keyboard on a communication console and a screen full of garbled text transformed into auberesh text scanning the message quickly, Ferus made a mental check.

Black Hand is in position.

"Is that shuttle onboard yet?"

"Just entered the docking bay, sir."

Being called sir, not addressing someone else by, that was what Ferus was more accustomed to. He climbed out of the well and stood up tall, his presence dominating the bridge.

"Lay in the coordinates. You may enter hyperspace when ready."

And in a flash of psuedomotion, the Union task force hurtled toward its destination...

The transitory mists were beautiful to look upon from afar, but deep inside the majestic beauty of the gaseous nebula of clouds was a hellish navigational nightmare. Sensor readings were impossible, and navigation computers were inoperable. The raw skill of an experienced Hapan pilot alone could navigate the mists. Guided only by the faint light of the immense Imperial Star Destroyer and the two Miy'til starfighter escorts, the shuttle carefully glided into the docking bay of the Noir Soleil.

"I don't like this...."

"Ooh come on, Akasha! It could be fun!"

Akasha readjusted the black cloak that wrapped around her slender curves and braced herself as the ship settled in the docking bay. The soft hum of the shuttles sublight engines grew quieter as the ship groaned and hissed as it settled. She looked at Alia, her loyal and trusted hand maiden, and shook her head disapprovingly.

"Since when is war fun?"



The ship itself was immaculate. A well ordered and well maintained crew operated the ship with extreme efficiency and care. Each member of her crew knew the exact duties he or she was to perform, and executed those duties with enormous attention to quality and detail. Akasha noted the scent of fresh paint and durasteel as she walked toward the command bridge, escorted on either side by heavily armed security personnel in black uniforms. Her arrival, she assumed, would be nothing more than a bureaucratic thorn in the commanders side. To be honest, she had no idea why she was here. She cared nothing for Lucian's insurrection and cared even less for the enormous battles that would ensue after the Union fleet carried out it's mission.

"Nice ship." Alia commented dryly.

Akasha merely nodded her head.

"I wonder if it's new..."

"No, it's not." Akasha stated bluntly, keeping her focus forward. Alia noted the irritation in her voice.

"You really should lighten up, Akasha. These Union boys are kinda cute in a non-Hapan kinda way."

She rolled her eyes.

The hiss of the airlocked doors of the command bridge announced her arrival. As she entered, she paused and took a quick glance at her surroundings. A transparisteel viewing port overlooked a large collection of warships looking more like a well-equipped pirate fleet than a formal naval force. In the distance, she noted a man wearing a tan uniform seated comfortably in a thrown-like command chair overlooking the crew and the large viewing port infront of him. He had turned the chair to face her, but seemed as suprised by her being here as she was.

Gracefully, the Hapan beauty walked toward him, followed at close range by her blonde hand maiden Alia. She extended her hand outward with the palm down and let it hang limply. Her piercing eyes gazed into his as she peered at him through the dark recesses of her cloak.

"Greetings, Captain. I am Lady Akasha D'alaetos, of the Relephon Moons."

“Admiral on deck!”

“At ease,” Nathanos sent the crew back to their positions with a curt salute.

It was nearing the time of their departure from the rendezvous point, and Nathanos always liked to be on the bridge every time The Crown’s Blade jumped into and out of hyperspace. It had developed into a sort of habit. He strode up to the Admiral’s chair, resting his left hand upon it. From his position, he surveyed his men hard at work in preparation.

The vessel would have jumped to Lorell an hour ago, but the crew had insisted upon running system checks throughout the entire ship to ensure that it was in prime shape. It was a procedure that usually occurred before the vessel left orbit, but they had been rushed off of Hapes under the Crowned Prince’s orders. Nathanos had agreed.

The two Battle Dragons, their escorts, had completed their systems checks long ago. It did not take as long for the five hundred meter vessels to make sure everything was running properly, but The Crown’s Blade was a Conquerer class Battleship, spanning seven thousand and six hundred meters in length. It was the second largest ship of war in the Royal Hapan Navy.

“Status?” Nathanos asked.

“Checks will be complete within the minute, sir,” an enlisted man replied.

“Excellent,” Nathanos smiled, “As soon as they are complete, begin preparations for hyperspace jump to Lorell and notify me when we are prepared.”

“Aye, sir.”

The doorway to the bridge slid open once more, and again came the cry.

“Captain on deck!”

Regina Dor’Athos strode onto the bridge, not bothering to give the order that would send the crew back to their posts. Sighing, Nathanos gave it himself. She glared at him. Nathanos sighed once more. The Captain was more concerned with a proper entrance than she was with the efficiency of the ship. It was understandable, he decided. They had not seen battle in a month. Not many pirates were willing to challenge a Conquerer class Battleship, but every once in a while they stumbled upon some especially dull witted ones.

“Status, Admiral?” she said in a commanding sort of tone. She loved flirting with insubordination.

“System checks are almost complete. We will be jumping within a few moments, Captain,” Nathanos emphasized the last word, receiving another glare in response.

Perhaps he was being too hard on her, Nathanos pondered. He had served with her for quite some time, and there was no one the Admiral trusted more to handle things impeccably in a combat situation. Captain Regina Dor’Athos was one of the best trained Hapan officer he had ever seen….in a combat situation. In other situations…she was like a twelve year old.

“System checks complete, Admiral,” a crew member reported, “Preparing for jump to lightspeed.”

“As you were,” Nathanos ordered.

They were beautiful.

There was no other way to describe to two figures who sauntered onto the Noir Soleil's bridge- no other word that would suffice. It wasn't that they were any more exotic than any other human female that Ferus had ever seen- they were just better, like they were cast from a different mold. The lines of their face seemed to focus your gaze toward their eyes, toward full sensuous lips and a mane of shimmering hair. They were not dressed provocatively, but as they passed various workstations the heads of several operators turned, casting a gaze over the set of perfect feminine shapes that slid by them.

The brunette approached his seat, and met his gaze with her own. For reasons Ferus could not explain, he felt as if she could peer past his outer shell and see the very thoughts that were churning inside his head.

She extended her hand.

"Greetings, Captain. I am Lady Akasha D'alaetos, of the Relephon Moons."

Relephon.

That explained it.

Hapan women were known for their exquisite beauty, the result of generations of selective breeding. For every skinholo Ferus had ever seen set in "the Hapan Consortium"...

Still, had he not been a ship's captain by trade, he probably wouldn't have known where Relephon was located. The planet was located in a remote section of the cluster, and didn't see much intergalactic trade. He was surprised to have placed the world so quickly.

Akasha extended her wrist in a movement that was much more graceful than anything Ferus had done in his life. He received the gesture, standing, then awkwardly leaning over to kiss the top of her hand.

"The pleasure is mine, Lady D'aleatos."

Akasha smiled, although Ferus couldn't tell if the expression was genuine or a diplomatic politeness. He did however, notice how gorgeous she looked while doing so.

"This is my hand maiden, Alia."

Ferus turned his gaze to the golden-haired accomplice, who bowed her head in deference. Alia was stunning in her own right, and to Ferus's mind more attractive then her regal mistress. He couldn't pinpoint the difference, so he chalked it up to his preference for blondes.

"Charmed."

It was at this moment that enough blood returned to Ferus's brain that he finally began to see the implications (and to a no less a degree, the irony) of having a pair of Hapan observers aboard his vessel as it hurtled through hyperspace to intercept a delegation from the Consortium's monarchy.

We're starting a civil war.

Ferus and his men were not involved in the politics of their operations. They received assignments, locations, deadlines, and they carried out their orders. Until this instant, he had not understood the larger ramifications of what he was being sent to do.

"My superiors have ordered me to extend you all the courtesies that are within my power. You have a free run of the ship, as long as you are accompanied one of our personnel. We have prepared the Captain's suite, if you wish to retire there, although you are welcome to remain on the bridge if it pleases you."

Before Akasha could respond, another voice rang out.

"30 minutes until revision."

Ferus smiled.

"If you'll excuse me, there are some duties I must perform."

He returned to his chair, and began barking out commands, having his crew run diagnostics on critical systems that would most certainly be employed in the upcoming battle. When he was finished, he retrieved a datapad from a compartment on his chair, and engrossed himself in battle plan and its various contingencies.


Half and Hour Later

"Revision in five... four... three... two... one..."

The swirling mass of hyperspace ended abruptly, replaced with the not so familiar backdrop of the Transitory Mists. It would take Ferus some time to get used to the gaseous clouds (instead of the starscape) that indicated the ship he entered realspace.

"Interdiction field rising."

"We have contacts, port bow. Hapan transponder codes."

"All systems reading green."

All thoughts of the Hapan beauties had vanished from the minds of Ferus and his crew. There was work to be done.

"Shields up. Bring our heading to mark 16, 27, 85. I want the formation tight! Jam their transmissions, and launch the fighter screen."

A course of affirmatives rang out from 'the well' and the bridge became a bustle of activity. Meanwhile, Ferus kept his eyes peeled, his gaze set against the viewport, as space panned in front of him.

It only took a few seconds for the Noir Soleil to turn enough so that the tip of the Crown's Blade came into view. It took several more before the main body of the massive ship filled the viewport.

Ferus had seen the Union's Super Star Destroyer (the Midas which was actually 400 or so meters longer the Blade) before so he wasn't completely blown away by the awesome size of his target. However, it’s hard to be completely stoic in the face of such a compelling sight. He would never let even the slightest quiver of fear appear externally, but he could not deny the twinge of fear, fortified by a bit of doubt, that occupied a portion of his thoughts.

I'm not being asked to do the impossible.

He watched as tiny specks (actually A-9 Vigilance fighters) crossed in front of his view of the mighty Hapan giant, further illustrating the ship's tremendous size.

"Contact the fighters; tell them to remember their orders!"

Now was not the time for some hotshot pilot to try and win the battle all by himself. Only with a high level of execution could the plan succeed.

"Prepare to transmit on my mark."

"We're ready Captain."

Ferus watched as the Blade's two escorts, some positively tiny looking (but highly lethal) Hapan Battle Dragons, began maneuvering, putting themselves between their charge and the Union force.

So it begins...

“Enter hyperspace on my mark. 3…2…1-”

“Sir!” a voice interrupted, “I’m reading a gravity well!”

“Its location?” Nathanos demanded more than requested.

“It’s right on top of us, sir!”

“There’s no planet for…” Dor’Athos muttered, and then shot a look at Nathanos. He nodded.

“It’s an interdiction field,” he echoed her thoughts, “Sensors, what do we got?”

“I’m not reading anything, sir!” the sensors officer replied, then took another look at his readouts, “Wait…I am reading six bogies bearing toward mark 16, 27, 85. They’re large, sir. Capital class. No identification.”

“Pirates?” Regina thought aloud, “They’re crazy enough to take on The Crown’s Blade?”

“No…this doesn’t feel right,” Nathanos shook his head, “They came out of nowhere, and as soon as they were in that interdiction field went up. Frell, when is the last time you’ve seen a pirate cabal large enough to even get their hands on a Battle Dragon or an Interdictor? No, I don’t believe these are pirates.”

“Sir!” The sensors officer interrupted once more, “Multiple incoming bogies! They’ve launched fighters!”

“Set Code 2 throughout the ship!” Nathanos ordered, “Launch fighter squadrons and raise our frelling shields! Get the message out to the Invoker and the Protector to do the same! But keep them back, in case our friends would like to talk first. Communications, get the message out to Hapes that we are under attack before they jam us!”

“Too late, sir!” a communications officer responded, “Long range communications have been jammed, but we’ve managed to punch through their jamming to communicate with the Battle Dragons.”

“Sir, should we go to Code 1?” Captain Dor’Athos asked him, all hints of insubordination gone from her voice at the sign of battle, “From every action they’ve taken they appear to be hostile.”

“No, hold at Code 2 for now,” Nathanos ordered, “But as soon as they start shooting I want a Code 1 immediately. Order the fighters to be prepared for when they attack. They are to run interference against their oncoming fighters. I want them neutralized and I don’t want any bombers getting through! Order the Invoker and the Protector to move in front of The Crown’s Blade. Their saucers are much more capable of dealing with any starfighters that punch through than ours. But tell them to be prepared to make a hole. If their capitals make a move, The Crown’s Blade will be matching it!”

“You heard the man, let’s move people!” Dor’Athos echoed, strutting quickly about the bridge and overseeing Nathanos’s orders as they were carried out.

“Do we know what we’re dealing with specifically yet?” Nathanos asked in a commanding voice, “Sensors?”

“One Imperial-class Star Destroyer and one Immobilizer 418 Interdictor Cruiser for certain, sir!” the sensors officer reported, “There are four other capitals that I am unsure of. They look to be…Majestic-class…but I’m uncertain.”

“If they’re Majestic cruisers make sure the Invoker and the Protector give us a wide berth! We cannot let those Majestics get too far away!”

“Sir!” Captain Dor’Athos returned from her scouring of the bridge, “Should we hail them?”

“No,” Nathanos shook his head, “They see our movements, and they know we’re not going to be surrendering. Let them hail us if they want to talk, because from the looks of things neither side is going to be talking for very long.”

“Yes, sir.”

The vessels of the Royal Hapan Navy carried out their orders with a swiftness and preciseness befitting only an armada of ultimate discipline and skill. No offensive move had yet been taken by either side, but the Hapans were prepared. They were ready for battle.

"Enemy is launching fighters, shields are up."

The Crown's Blade and her escorts were reacting quickly, upholding the stellar reputation of the Royal Hapan Navy. Although the Hapans hadn't been in any serious combat (roughing up random pirates didn't qualify) for some time, they were well known as tenacious warriors who were especially fond of lightning quick strikes and bold, decisive maneuvers. The design of the Hapan Battle Dragons, with its rotating banks of turbolasers and powerful engines, reflected the mindset of most Hapan commanders: hit your adversaries hard and fast and give no quarter.

But although the enemy was employing a pair of the famed Battledragons (was their a Hapan fleet devoid of them?) it was not them which worried Ferus, for against them alone he had enough firepower at his disposal with which he could probably win the day. Engaging the Crown's Blade was different story entirely.

She was aConquerer class Battleship, a vessel that represented the pinnacle of next generation Hapan warships. The Conquerer and her companion, the smaller Sword of Hapes class, were radical departures from the traditional Hapan mentality in regards to ship design. Bristling with heavy weaponry, insanely well shielded and armored, able to carry at least a wing of starfighters- the Conquerer would have been quite comfortable surrounded by a squadron of Star Destroyers in the Imperial navy. A Conquerer could go toe to toe with anything outside of the Ebony Vigilance itself and emerge victorious.

But the most glaring difference between the Conquerer and the more traditional Hapan vessels was speed.

For a ship 500 meters in diameter, a Hapan Battledragon could really move. The Nova cruisers that usually accompanied them were just as nimble- the legacy of Hapes' pirate past. The designers of the Crown's Blade didn't envision her popping out of hyperspace to raid convoys. They did however imagine her annihilating any Star Destroyer or Mon Calimari cruiser foolish enough to wander into the Hapes Cluster.

That thought only served to remind Ferus why he had ordered his fleet to maintain a significant distance from their targets.

The Union ships had advanced somewhat since their hyperspace terminus, but were still well out of range for even the Noir Soleil's heaviest weaponry. Ferus saw no reason why that should change.

"All stop. Tighten the formation, prepare to send the transmission."

The Noir Soleil glided to a halt, and her escorts formed up in a purely defensive posture. A pair of Majestics flanked the great white wedge, while the Interdictor cruiser stationed itself behind the ISD, coming as close as possible without positioning her bow in the Noir Soleil's ion wash. A-9 Vigilances flitted around in a tight sphere, forming a fighter screen that extended in every direction.

Yes, attacking the Crown's Blade would have been foolish. Ferus was content to know that his superiors were not asking the impossible of him.

All he had to do was keep the Hapan giant here.

"Prepare to send the transmission."

If properly executed, the long rang jamming that was so critical to the success of the operation would only be lifted for a few seconds. "If" being the operative word.

The communications officer acknowledged Ferus's command. There was no reason to delay any longer.

"Transmit."

The jamming field dropped for a moment, and a signal flew off into the void. Seconds later, the field was back in place. There had been a window, however slight, in which the Hapans could have gotten off a distress signal.

No plan is perfect.

To the Union hierarchs, it wouldn't matter if the plan itself was flawed, only if it succeeded.

Ferus could only hope the second phase of the operation worked as well in practice as it had in theory.



Deep Space- Microjump from Rendezvous Point

They say that the blind are more attuned to their sensory perceptions than those who can see. Lacking the single most valuable ability by which human beings perceive the outside world, they compensate through the use of their remaining senses in ways that many people can't even fathom. Some can tell if a person is male or female (excluding the use of artificial scents) by detecting the subtle pheromones that humans unconsciously secrete. Others have so finely attuned their sense of touch that they can distinguish real fibers from chemically identical synthetic versions. Most commonly, though, it is a heightened sense of hearing which aids the vision deprived.

It would not have taken a blind man, however, to appreciate the lack of sound on the bridge of the Necropolis. For the bridge of a capital starship, it was eerily quiet.

Of course, when one was relaying orders with the power of their mind, it was understandable why verbal commands would be unnecessary.

A sharp pinging sound broke the silence, an alarm that on most craft would have been a flashing light. Some adjustments had been made, to compensate Tir Esias's certain shortcomings. The sound was alerting him that there was an incoming transmission.

Touching the dull consciousness of a particular necrotrooper, Tir opened the channel. Although he could not see the man whose image shimmered to life a few feet from where he sat, cross-legged on the bulkhead, he knew who he was. He could have identified the man from various the various subtleties in his voice, distinct individual sounds he had heard enough that they distinguished this particular individual. However, even that method was superfluous- for Tir had spend the past six hours in deep meditation, gathering and amplifying his connection to the living force, and he could sense the mans insignificant force signature.

The man, Colonel Rothlis, of the Bird of Prey Avatar of Damned informed Tir Esias that they had received the signal from the Noir Soleil.

Everything was going according to plan.

"You may hyperspace when ready, Colonel. The Necropolis will follow shortly."

The man acknowledged and closed the channel, but he moved no farther away from Tir, though his force signature seemed to glow slightly in response to the man's anticipation. Then, a moment later, his presence was gone.

Tir withdrew his aura, there was no reason to needlessly waste energy, and set the Necropolis in motion to follow Rothlis and his men. The Noir Soleil (and, presumably since Rothlis had received the signal, the target) was only a short microjump away, a minute or two travel time. The interdiction field holding the Hapans in place would pull the Necropolis put of hyperspace, so there was no need for the detailed calculations most microjumps entailed.

The stage was set. The anvil was laid. It was time for the hammer to strike.

The Necropolis entered hyperspace.

The table was set, the pieces in place, and the chess game was ready to begin. Nathanos had given their unidentified assailants the first move, and looking out from the bridge of The Crown’s Blade, the Hapan Admiral watched with confusion as the star destroyer and its escorts stood adrift in space, not moving and most certainly not attacking.

The Battle Dragons were in position, as were the screen of Miy’til fighters ready to take on any incoming starfighters, but none seemed to be coming. The enemy armada was just sitting there, as if waiting for something. And Nathanos had a feeling he did not have much time to find out before it was too late.

“Sir!” came a call, jarring him from his thoughts. It was a communications officer, “Jamming has ceased!”

“Get a message out to Ha-”

“Too late, sir!” the officer called back, disappointment in his tone, “The field is back up.”

“Were you able to send anything?” Nathanos demanded.

“The automated distress signal triggered,” the communications officer reported, “The window was so small though…it might have been cut off.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Nathanos smiled grimly, “Standard Hapan procedure means that someone will investigate. The response should be rapid; the rendezvous point isn’t far from Hapes. I give it ten minutes until a scout is here, thirty minutes at the most until these little bastards have the Royal Armada on their asses.”

“The question we have to ask ourselves now,” Dor’Athos spoke for the first time since the standoff between the two forces had begun, “Is why they would do a stupid thing like drop the jam?”

“And why they aren’t attacking yet,” Nathanos said, “Those few seconds were long enough for them to send a data burst as well, you can count on it.”

“So what, they realized they were outgunned and sent a call for reinforcements?” the captain pondered.

“Or gave the go ahead for a larger force to move in,” Nathanos countered, “I can’t believe they even discovered the coordinates of this rendezvous, so however they did it may have not given them much time to react. They may have had to scramble together this ragtag armada to stall us until the rest of their fleet could move in. In that case…”

“In that case we’re going to have a whole shitstorm on us real fracking soon,” Dor’Athos finished for him, and then, “…sir.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Captain.” Nathanos grinned.

“So what do we do?” she asked.

“We hold out,” the Admiral replied, “Until reinforcements come.”

“A lot can happen in thirty minutes, Admiral,” Dor’Athos said, “What if they don’t arrive in time?”

“Then we take as many of these bastards as we can with us.

We defend the Consortium…to the last man.”

A single chime shattered the otherwise serene silence of the Necropolis' bridge.

Tir had ordered a nearby necrotrooper to set the terminus alarm to ensure that he would be absolutely certain of when the ship had exited hyperspace, but in retrospect it had been unnecessary. Even without extending his senses he had felt a wave of emotion pour suddenly from the force, the sudden reaction of hundred of Hapan sailors suddenly alerted to the ship's arrival.

Tir reached out with the Force, his mind probing in the direction of that outburst, and he found the dense vibrant concentration of sentient life, burning brightly against the lifeless vacuum. The surprise had quickly faded, and though the torrent of emotion was difficult to decipher over the great distance, Tir could get a general sense of the mood of his opposition. The men (and women) on the Crown's Blade and her escorts exuded everything from anxiety and fear to excitement and eagerness- but the common denominator, the feeling that emanated the most throughout the enemy fleet was resolve.

We shall see how long such optimism can last.

Tir altered his focus, scanning the surrounding vicinity for the other force he knew to be present. At each flank of the Necropolis, though at a considerable distance, Tir could sense the hardened personas of the Black Hand contingent. If he had to describe their overall mood the only way to effectively communicate what he was feeling was a sense of lethality- however explaining exactly why would have been extremely difficult. Perpendicular to the Hapan contingent, and at such a great range that he could only sense their presence, was the Union's interdicting force.

There was another chime, and an image that Tir Esias would never see flickered to life. Tir turned his attention back to the Necropolis, as the voice of Colonel Rothlis reverberated across the bridge.

"My forces are in position, and ready to execute the operation at your command, sir."

There was no need to waste any time.

"Commence."

The image evaporated, a fact that was conveyed to Tir through a slightly higher pitched sound. Tir reacted by conveying a set of orders to his "crew", whose life signatures seemed even more muted relative to the vibrant signatures of the Black Hand and Hapan sailors.

The smooth lines of the Necropolis suddenly became blurred as wave after wave of Scarabs droid fighters detached themselves from their external docking racks along the Column. Unlike traditional droid fighters they were almost standard size for most snubfighters and consequently were harder to destroy and packed a greater punch than one might expect. Aided and coordinated by a Tacitus war computer, the Scarabs had shown themselves to be dangerous. The 3000 meter long Necropolis boasted a compliment of 200 of them.

The Scarabs swarmed forward at high speed with a sole purpose in mind- engage and destroy the Hapan fighter screen. In a maelstrom of laser bolts and explosions the two masses of fighters became one, producing a flurry of action that was nearly impossible to follow.

Meanwhile the Black Hand contingent swung into action. Eight of the infamous Birds of Prey, the largest concentration of such vessels since the "Corellian War", had been allocated for the mission. Colonel Rothlis had spilt his force into two flights of four BoPs each, and arrayed them each in a blunted wedge formation with two BoP's take the lead, and one on either flank.

The 295 meter vessels accelerated in tandem, each flight approaching the Hapan contingent diagonally. Able to travel at a blistering 60 MGLT, the BoP was one of the most effective light attack vessels ever built, and the perfect weapon to use against the plodding designs that were so indicative of next generation Hapan shipbuilding.

Tir focused on the first flight (moving in from the Necropolis's right flank) as it sped toward its target. He could detect only a slight blip of emotion that was quickly suppressed under the stoic aura he had sensed earlier.

The battle was about to begin in earnest.

And with its commencement, the war for the Hapes cluster would transcend to a new level...