The galactic map rotated throughout the room. A room built to Kaine’s exact specifications.

Along the wall, droids manned the controls ready to input known variables as well as unknown probabilities as the Empire, once again, took to galactic expansion.


The string of planets where the Empire held, if not active power, at least influence was highlighted and the Grand Marshall eyed them thoughtfully.


The loss of the Empire’s iron-like grip over most of the galaxy irritated the back of Kaine’s mind. The loss of man-power and equipment was almost irrepairable.


Even the 256th did not escape the Wrath’s clutches.


There were very few soldiers from Kaine’s first command on Sotel. Throughout the years, he had known both victory and defeat, triumph and tragedy with his soldiers.


They were his favorites.


And now, they have been scattered to the wind, filling a small portion of the remaining forces loyal to Regent Daemon Hyfe.


And yet, the fact that the grip was loosened was not such a surprise as he would have liked to pretend it was.

He’d seen it coming.

He’d seen the devastation the virus wrought on the Empire and then the galaxy.

So he acted.

A seemingly small act, but the Grand Marshall tended to think with the focus of the "Long Term" in view.

Project: Insidion was merely one part of the ongoing, constantly revising plan to bring this galaxy to heel but even then, it was merely an option and not so much a course of action.



So where does that leave me?


Kaine scanned the holographic reports as his hands called up locations.

Imperial Center glowed brightly.


Throughout the Time of Troubles, the center had held.


From the center were far-reaching operations to bring back into the fold those planets that were staunchly loyal.


But, if the galactic map showed anything to Simon, it was that the core was staggeringly vulnerable.


It was time to change that.


The New Republic had failed and the rebels were scattered. With any luck, they would eventually die off with only their memories of pride to keep them company.

The Empire needed to seize the initiative and move!


And so it would.


“Time to reinforce the center..” Kaine muttered before leaving to summon the Military Command.

Another system glowed brightly...


The prize for the Resurgence of The New Order.


The Corellian System..

Captain Quinn went over the hologram of the Corellian System. Even without the backbone of a centralized government, it seemed that trade traffic still flowed through the Corellian Trade Spine.

Unregulated, grunted the for former Colonel under Simon Kaine.


Having won promotion for his part in Endgame, he now commanded one of the two Shrouds that had entered the system.

An advance guard of sorts as reinforcements moved into position.

Scans from the hidden imperial vessels revealed enough shipping activity in the system for the computers to derive common routes.

With the collapse of the New Republic infrastructure, it seemed the Corellians scrambled for control fighting over the carcass of the now defunct government.

Naturally, the collapse hurt the progressive social and civil programs immeasurably. The ensuing chaos halted any one organization or functionary to rise out of the anarchy.

The seedier sides of system began to crop up.


Captain Quinn noted this as intercepted intrasystem transmissioned were picked apart and studied.

The warships halted, the spherical shadow of Centerpoint falling over their invisible forms.

"The reports were accurate.." an officer had started saying to his companions. "Darth Poreon's occupation of Centerpoint was for nothing after all."

"I'd still feel better if we had a Sith Knight here."

"How do you know there isn't one?" interrupted the Captain as he overheard several on his bridge crew beginning to talk.

The officers stopped talking and stared at him. "Then sir, what are we waiting for?"

Quinn smiled cryptically.

"All in good time."

Imperial Center


The twenty five “heavy transports” entered hyperspace in an orderly fashion, each sporting a corporation logo of some type. Registration Codes identified them as carrying food supplies, medical supplies and power generators called out to the ports of destination even as the last ship disappeared from Imperial Space.




Corellia

A shuttle had entered the Corellian system from Imperial Center. It began to broadcast it’s approach to those few manning the receiving installations on Corellia and a flight arrival plan was issued.

It was flanked by two Shroud Cruisers, remaining unseen to both eye and sensor.





*

The rather portly self styled Merchant Prince eyed the dour-looking Imperials with interest. It had been some years since he had had any dealings with the vaunted Empire (“vaunted” being used sarcastically in the gentleman’s mind).

One Imperial was wearing black gloves and sporting a black and gray uniform, unlike the typical gray naval uniforms the old books illustrated. There was another with him dressed also in a similar style, though with Captain’s bars.

Two guards remained outside the portly man’s office. With the man, also viewing the Imperials was the man claiming to represent Corellia yet who played a puppet to the Union of Merchant Princes’ Master.

The portly man was coming to his point in the discussion.

“.. Gentlemen, as I was beginning to tell you before so rudely interrupted,” the Merchant Prince looked at his companion sternly, “the fact that the Empire has come within a few parsecs of Corellia is no cause for alarm.”

“Even when Corellia, not so long ago, was the Capital of the Empire’s chief enemy?” the Captain asked, rather hotly. The man looked older than the other but his jet black hair had yet to age.

The other one, the quiet one, seemed to simply stare calmly at the Merchant Prince. There was slightly gray in his hair..but only slight. Probably trying to be intimidating.. as all Imperials are loath to do.., the portly “prince” thought sardonically. He’d been a trader too long, taken part in many a meetings to be affected by mere.. “quiet”.

“Even so..” he said in rather measure tones. “How much of your military infrastructure have you lost since your .. uh.. ‘acquisition’ of Coruscant? How much have you fallen to the Wrath Virus? The Empire is too wrapped up in putting down it’s own insurgents to put teeth into the threats hurled at us.” The Merchant Prince smiled a smile that was not pretty.

Brass.. tactics..


“The Insurrectionists have been put down. The New Empire no longer stands. Believe me, Mr. Merchant, there is nothing… Nothing! ..distracting the Empire from Corellia.” The Captain leaned forward, his voice menacing. “We controlled Corellia once… We will again.”

The Merchant Prince’s smile got wider. “We overthrew you once… We can again!” he snapped back.

“You really do not think the Empire will do this?” the Captain asked incredulously. “You think the Empire will dicker with you.. spend time catering to your wants? On YOUR terms?”

Now the daft man was getting it..

“Of course.” He simply said.

The quiet Imperial man interrupted. “Why do you believe as you do?”

The Merchant Prince noted that there was neither admission nor contradiction to his belief.. Merely a question. He shrugged, “Logistics tell it. After the beating you’ve taken with the Wrath Virus, with your grip lost on planets having galactic commodities, your economy cannot recover without the infusion of local trade.”

“What prevents us from taking it?”

“The fact that the Merchant Princes of Corellia are watching. So much as one battlecraft enters our space, our goods exit the Core or are destroyed to keep from falling into your hands.

Even if you retain most of your armed forces, the Empire WILL be slow in using them because… they do not wish to harm their future subjects.” The Prince smile smugly at that. “Your Imperial Generals, while excellent tacticians are pathetically slow when acting. General Kaine will plot and plan and hide behind fleets until … god knows what.. and by the time he acts, Corellia will have grown strong enough to hurt whatever you throw at us.”

“All the while.. “ the quiet officer prompted.

“.All the while, we still hold the trump card. Your supplies will run short the greater the fleet you possess and without that infusion, your own businesses will fail plunging your great empire into debt and ruin.”

A signal suddenly beeped from the Merchant Prince’s communications panel. The portly man’s companion rose to receive it and when he returned he whispered in the ‘Prince’s’ ear. “Ahh… I see that not all the insurrectionists have been put down.”

“What??” the Imperial Captain exclaimed.

“A fleet of trading vessels have entered our space from Coruscant. Your people are beggars to us.” The Prince’s Corellian pride reaching an all time high.

The Imperial Captain turned to his quiet companion. “We should destroy all of them..” he murmured.

Overhearing the comment, the Merchant Prince hissed in disgust. Imperials are such fools!

“You harm the trading ships and we are through!” he said flatly.

“You mean to say that you will interfere with our own punishing of our people?” the quiet officer asked.

“If you wish to remain in negotiations, yes. The Empire has no say with what goes on in our space. You have no authority.” The Merchant Prince spat. “To keep these talks going, talks for commodities you desperately need, you will heed.”

The Imperial Captain exhaled sharply.

The Prince knew he was winning. The Imperials are @#%$ in a fight but back them into a wall and they crumble. Arrogant fools!

“Inform our warships to provide safe haven for these transports. Split them up in different landing locations. I do not want all of them to fall victim to a singular bombardment.” The portly man quickly told his companion.

“You think of everything don’t you?” the quiet man observed.

“You have to to stay ahead of the game.” The Prince responded only half paying attention. The reports on the transports were exciting him. The vessels were very large, boasting massive storage holds. His eyes lit up with profitable possibilities.

He looked at the Imperials and they had a look of being outmaneuvered about them. “Care to join me for dinner?” he asked magnanimously. If you are going to win, win well..


The Imperials reluctantly agreed. Or rather, they agreed but their eyes displayed a certain reluctance which made the portly man smile inside even more.

Dinner was an extravagant affair for the self styled Merchant Prince. Being on the fulcrum of two major trade routes left many an opportunity for the more exotic items (including food items) to pass before the portly man’s gaze.

“How are your dishes, gentlemen?” he asked, out of the politeness as required by a host.

The Imperial Captain exclaimed in appreciation of the preparation which started the host into a story relating how he had come by the rare item. The gloved Imperial remained true to his self… quiet.

Perhaps he is still thinking of the transports we aquired in their spite. the man thought with an inner grin.

“Come now, Imperial. We can be friends, no?” he started, interrupting the thoughts of the quiet Imperial.

A thin line passed across the man’s lips. A smile? “Magnanimous of you…” He responded. “…and at the same time, presumptuous.”

Oh, yes he’s still thinking of the transports.

“What is done is done. We move forward yes?”

The Imperial Captain looked at the Merchant Prince startled at the rather simpleton tactic he was taking with his companion.

“Tell me, what would your General Kaine do? What can he do? There are rumors that even the Imperial Intelligence hates him.”

“Is that so?” the gloved man asked.

“Yes and if you want any more information, you’ll have to pay for it like everybody else.” Drop the bait.. wiggle it about and watch them pounce..

A beeping sound came from the wrist of the quiet man and he moved his hand over the wrist quieting the noise. Abruptly, though methodically, the man stood up, placed his hand behind his back and, at first, gazed a rather large object of art.

“You know what amazes me?”

“The fact that people such as myself continue to stand up to the Empire?” the man retorted.

The Imperial turned and narrowed his eyes seriously. “Yes.” He simply stated.

“You know the power that you face. You know from experience that ending up on the opposite side of the Empire, will eventually be your undoing. You know what has happened in the past. You know the nature of the New Order… and yet still you continue to remain cocooned in your false sense of security.”

“Now wait a minute----!!” the portly man started to rise to his feet.

“You think that the public opinion of a planet will halt the Empire’s plans?”

“You think that a people ignored will be silent for long to an government?” the “prince” countered.

The quiet man suddenly laughed and shook his head. “Has history taught you nothing?”

There was a sudden scorn in his eyes that was not there before. “You weave your web of fantasies to intricately that it becomes the foundation of your reality. But you do not realize the utter fragility of the web itself.”

“Ever since the fall of Palpatine, the Empire has waited for the “people” to make their lives better. They have waited for this ‘grand enlightenment that was to fill every edge of the galaxy.

Instead, what we got was a mess of petty factions, each wanting their pitiful ‘voice’ heard.

I ask the rebels.

I ask the ‘people’.

I ask you…

… where is the justification of your lives?”



The Imperial saw that the man before him was an idealistic man. That he couldn’t give a damn about what the ‘people’ thought. He was as greedy as everybody else.

What set him apart from others?

Power.

The man patted his sidearm and smiled grimly. “This is my justification. You’ve had your turn Imperial. Now move aside and let one more capable at the reigns.”

“But are you more capable?” the Captain interrupted.

Suddenly, a siren began to be heard startling the Prince. Someone came running in. “Sir.”

“What’s going on?” the portly man shouted, as a wary eye was kept on the utterly calm Imperials.

“A Star Destroyer has entered the system!!”

“What? Order our batteries to track and remove it!” he spat. His eyes narrowing. “You are fools!”

The quiet Imperial shrugged but made no other move.

“Sir! No response from the planetary cannons!”

“WHAT?? Impossible! Scramble our ships!” He turned a gleaming eye toward the Imperials, “There is more than one way to skin a Destroyer.”

“Planetary Batteries firing!”

The Merchant Prince suddenly laughed..

The computer monitor that had flickered on suddenly began showing Corellian vessel signatures disappearing from the scope.

“What?” the portly man cried in horror as the meaning of what he was seeing began to sink in.

The quiet answered. “Your planetary guns are under our control.”

The Merchant Prince slammed his hand down on a comm. Channel. “GET ME TRALUS!”

The comm. Channel remained silent.

“We have your transmission stations.”

The quiet man answered matter-of-factly. “We also have ships positioned to intercept anything that the five planets will throw at the center. All five points are covered.”


The fact that he still had his guards outside the door, and his blaster in hand now, he felt some confidence.

“You cannot hold a planet with whatever token force…”

“Token?” the Imperial Captain nearly laughed.

Outside, massive blaster fire was heard as the infrastructure of command on Corellia was being smashed.

“The transports.” The Prince said, putting it together. “I separated them to avoid a singular bombardment attack…but I positioned them right where you wanted. They carried the troops.”

“You have a quick mind, Merchant Man.” The Captain answered.

“But the people! The political parties..”

“Are being hunted down and destroyed.” The quiet man said quietly.

Then his eyes flashed. “Don’t you think we have wasted enough time on their useless arguing behind closed doors. How much initiative has been lost within committee decisions and stalling tactics?


Enough!

No more chances! No more cuddling to the masses.

You have been judged as inept.

You will now answer for your lack of vision.

You will now be held accountable for your actions.

Accountable to the Empire.”


The quiet Imperial smiled.

“When Palpatine fell, you lost the one thing that kept you in line. You lost the one thing that kept order.

You lost your fear.

A man without fear sees to himself and the masses second.

Thus the masses divide and dissipate until there is nothing left to govern.”


The quiet man walked over to the table, a faint irony in his voice. “Fear keeps the masses in line. Fear keeps the systems in line. Fear of the Empire.”

“We…we will fight you.” The portly man whispered.

“Not if you are dead.” The quiet man answered.

And a laser shot burned through the wall striking the Merchant Prince in the back, his eyes bulging in surprise. So much surprise that he dropped his weapon.

The door behind the fallen body opened and a Spartan soldier entered.

“Report.” The quiet Imperial ordered.

“Communications have been contained. The purges are going according to schedule. All insurgent elements will have been eliminated by morning.”

“Five hours.” The Captain translated.

“The Tyrant is signaling, Marshall. Transports are sending more legions and a cadre of reeducation specialists and representatives from the Inquistorium.”

Kaine nodded, stepping over the body of the Merchant Prince.

“Destroy anything that tries to leave, Major. We own this system and I want that fact made very clear. No quarter for resistance.”

“Yessir. Also the Ministry of Information has sent specialists to handle planetary communications.”

“We are not going to use the existing system. Rip it out and replace it with ours.”

“We will need more construction materials than what the Tyrant has brought..”

“More transports from Imperial Center will arrive at the outside of 5 hours.”

“Yes sir.”

The forces of the Empire, having completely taken the Corellian Merchant Hegemony by surprise, moved unhindered through the streets, all under the watchful eye of the Star Destroyer Tyrant.


The population remained in their homes as martial law was instigated throughout the provinces and jurisdictional districts.

Opposing political parties, former nobles who prospered under the New Republic and those who did not swear unwavering loyalty immediately to the Regent were executed.

The harsh measures taken by Grand Marshall Kaine were so complete that any thought of sedition was overwhelmed by the measure of accountability the Empire would mete out.

With the more dangerous opposition quelled, the measures lessened in intensity leaving only fear.

Stormtroopers patrolled the streets.

“Imperial Intelligence is having a field day with the former New Republic Intelligence Headquarters.” Captain Quinn mentioned along side Kaine.

“I have a meeting with Isard next week regarding what they have learned or will learn in the meantime.”

The two men stood alone in the grand hall of the former New Republic Senatorial Chambers. Their voices echoed a bit in the empty space, the emergency lighting showing just how large the building was.

“How many people were supposed to make up this New Republic?” Quinn asked as his eyes scanned the massive room.

“Apparently it was the dream of Mon Mothma to bring the Rebel Alliance into solidarity under the banner of the New Republic.” Kaine mused.

“Did she ever get a rude awakening..” Quinn quipped.

“Yes, she certainly did. The actual nature of the galaxy suddenly became very clear without the order the Empire imposed. The Calamari soon broke away intent on their own interests. The rise of the Sith, suddenly unchecked by the elite of the Empire, also reigned chaos all over. Remember the old Eternal Rogue Order once held Coruscant. It was a feather in the New Republic’s cap to finally punch through the Corellian system and take the old Capital. But once they had it, they didn’t know what to do with it.”

The men walked out of the chambers and out onto a balcony overlooking the city.

Even in the heart of democracy luxury reigns.

Grand Marshall Kaine looked outward and sighed.

“I am tired, Quinn. Tired of dealing with people who will not face the facts. Palpatine had it right. The Old Republic was constantly deadlocked with their petty squabbles. More and more unrest was becoming evident every day.

The historians will say that Palpatine caused the ruin of the Old Republic. That he undermined it from within.

They blame the catastrophic dissolution of the Republic on one man.

He may have maneuvered events to a goal he himself envisioned, but he was by no means the cause such events. The Republic was already heading down… he just steered it along a different path other than total chaos.”

“But?” prompted Captain Quinn.

Kaine’s eyes were angry. “But these damn fools just cannot see that.” His gesture encompassed Corellia as a whole. “But they will. They will see that everything comes full circle.”


The Grand Marshall’s voice was harsh causing Captain Quinn to turn in surprise.

But Kaine’s eyes were far away.


The Past…

Corellia.



“Name please?” came a rather cold voice.

A young man in front of him shivered slightly in the damp Corellian air and rattled off his name. He saw that he was but one among a long line of skinny, half starved young adults though his expression gave nothing away. Almost willing himself into a hardened stone of granite, he might have remained in place all day were it not for the nudge a stormtrooper gave him to move along.

Even in their suits, Corellian winters were nothing to mock of. He moved forward.

“Name please?” came the question again.

“S… Simon Kaine.” He stated, silently cursing himself that the cold affected his tongue. His resolve burned hotter to remain unmoved.

The man with the unmoving voice glanced through his datapad in search of confirmation. Not finding any, his brows furrowed and he suddenly looked up.

Simon could see that the coldness in the man’s voice had nothing to do with the oncoming winter. No, the man’s coldness spread into his eyes.

His lips pressed together in a rather flat line and the man’s gaze seemed to rip into Kaine’s soul looking for the answers he sought.

The fact that the man looked up was something of note, for the last time he had done it was in front of a small alien boy. The boy was immediately taken out of the line despite his protests and he’d not been seen from again. Kaine wondered if the same would happen to him for whatever reason.

The man’s eyes were shrewd as he asked another question.

“Related to Tiren Kaine?”

Tiren Kaine.. Now there was a name Simon had not heard voiced for a good long time.

“He was my father.” Kaine answered, firmly.

Perhaps too firmly for the man misread his tone and commented to another officer, “We have the son of a traitor in our midst.”

The other young boys seemed to melt away from Simon as if he carried the most virulent disease known to the galaxy.

The other officers came up, making light of the situation. A situation that grated against the young man before them.

That his father had betrayed the Empire hadn’t mattered any which way to a young Simon Kaine for his father had betrayed the only thing that had really mattered. He had betrayed his family.

When Simon’s mother was executed in dispensation for the shame brought to their family and when Simon’s grandfather (his mother’s father) had stepped down from the Imperial Senate (the political pressures and the execution of his only daughter bringing the proud man down), where was Tiren Kaine?

If Simon was to execute revenge on his father for the effects his treachery brought to his family’s life, he found he would need to understand things the way the Empire understood things.

And right now, the Empire felt as betrayed by his father as he did.

But their suspicion also carried over to him.

“You came off that transport from the edge of the Unknown Regions didn’t you?”

Kaine could only shrug. He didn’t know where the planet he was taken from located.

“How did you get that?” the man suddenly asked, pointing to a scar going down the length of Simon’s arm.

“A man with blue skin and glowing eyes gave it to me.” He mumbled, the horrors he had experienced on Arcadia still fresh in his mind.

“An alien lover to eh?” another officer quipped.

The insinuation burned Simon inside. He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice when he said, “I killed him.”

The seated man’s cold eyes suddenly showed something they hadn’t before. Interest. Then his eyes brushed against the necklace of small skulls that Simon wore.

“So, you admit to murder?” another asked.

Confusion played on Simon’s features, not understanding how these Imperial soldiers didn’t understand. As he looked back at the seated officer, he saw that they did understand and that they were merely playing with him.

He was an oddity.

A thing to them.

The seated man, seeing that he’d get no rise out of Simon, began to lose interest. “Well, we can’t have the son of a traitor around can we?” he asked rather absently and motioned for the stormtrooper to take Simon away.

With grim realization, Simon knew his time was limited now.

Before the stormtrooper could reach him, he leaped at the table intent on striking the seated officer.

The man let out a yell of surprise at being attacked by a 14 year old. Simon had pulled out a makeshift knife made of bone and stuck the man who had casually dismissed his life with a wave of his hand.

The man cried out as he fell on his back, the 14 year old falling on top of him. We was going to bring his bone knife down over the heart of the officer when two stun blasts from opposite directions caught both Simon and the officer.

“Take that filth away and put one in his head!!” another officer shouted, pointing to Simon’s limp form.

“Sorry Sir. The Governor has issued that any attack on an Imperial soldier shall be immediately arrested.”

The officer bit back an angry retort as an unconscious Simon was pulled off the formerly seated officer.

Rebellious sentiments had been cropping up all over the Empire and the Governor of Corellia had tried to play the diplomat between those representatives of both local government, Imperial Senators who felt their power slipping away and the leaders and soldiers of the Imperial Military.

To make people stand trial for attacks against Imperial Officers, the military would be satisfied (for now) that something was being done and the public was satisfied because they felt their “rights” were preserved by the show trial.

Unknown (usually) to those citizens was the fact that anyone who stood against the former Grand Army of the Republic typically did not fare very well.



*

“Simon Mathias Kaine, son of the traitor Tiren Kaine and former Daughter of the Empire, Celeste Kaine. You stand accused of assaulting an Imperial Officer. How do you plead?”

The 14 year old gazed quietly at the Corellian Magistrates before him, noting their flickering glances to the Imperials of high rank seated somewhere off to the side.

He stood alone before rather large panel and yet the magistrates squirmed. They reminded him of the “worms” that had plagued his stay on Arcadia. Seeing them in that light, put a new spin on his perceptions. Powerful in their own right, the only vision he had for the creatures that had killed his only friend in the hellhole was of them squirming, thrashing about in his hand before he snapped their spine.

They were quick.

But he had learned to be quicker.

He had to or he was dead.


The magistrates too were powerful in their own right, but pitted against the true masters, the Empire, they thrashed and would squirm until their necks were snapped.

He realized that there would be no appeal, no mercy to come from this panel of impotent Corellian officials.

His salvation or destruction would only come from the Empire.

So, it was the Empire that he would fight this day.

But with what?

In his struggle to survive on Arcadia, after the Chiss pirate had killed most of settlers, he used whatever means necessary to keep one step ahead of the worm infestation.

After a couple of years, the planet’s climate proved too different for the creatures and they began to die off.

That is really what saved the remaining population of Arcadia.

After living in fear most of that time, he learned to meet the challenges of the unexpected (and sometimes life-threatening) with an equanimity unmatched.


Simon’s eyes gazed to the right and noticed the publicists gathered. News men and women of all sorts gathered for the spectacle.

A child attacking an Imperial official would garner much popularity among seditionists and revolutionaries.

A loss of face here would be bad for the Empire.

But how to keep the Empire’s .. honor intact without losing his life?

The survivor in Kaine surged forward and his mind began to assess his situation accepting and rejecting options as fast as they entered his head.

“Not guilty.” He spoke with convincing assuredness that surprised even him.

The Imperials had not given him anything extra to wear so his arms felt like they were numbing to the bone.

The audience stirred at the statement though they were not surprised.

An Imperial representative stood up in indignation, “What nonsense is this?”

He gestured to the injured officer seated behind him. “Just look at Major Harj! Look at his wounds! How can the boy say he is not guilty of that? Perhaps a motion of mental retardation is in order to put the child out of it’s misery.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed at the chide. “I am not retarded!” he shouted, suddenly realizing that he was playing into the Imperial representative’s hands.

“Then you did attack Major Harj!” he said, rather self satisfied with himself. Then he spoke out into the audience at large. “How can the Empire stand to have it’s officers assaulted and then have the perpetrators go unpunished? To do so would make the Empire weak. To do so would make the Empire impotent to it’s enemies!”

The people were suddenly becoming stirred behind the speech.

The Major gave Simon an evil grin.

Simon was out of his league and he knew it. How could he cope against the very word: Empire.

“Look at the savage! Look at his attire! Look at this primitive necklace! Of course he assaulted the Major and of course, he WILL be punished!”

Even his appearance was being used against him. He hadn’t showered for a few days, having used all his money to transport off of Arcadia.

What could he do?

“For assaulting an Imperial Officer, the punishment is death.” The man stated flatly.

A sudden futility struck Simon as the past few years went by in his mind. And for what? To be killed out of hand by a pig of a man?

He refused to cry as despair began to set in.

“No doubt, the boy may try to curry your favor with a tale of how woeful his life has been, but that is no excuse to assault a superior. The penalty will stand!”

Simon’s open mouth remained open for a bit, caught off guard once again. For that was exactly what Simon was going to do.

The Imperial representative glanced over at the 14 year old.

Kaine was about to hang his head in defeat, when his mother’s voice suddenly entered his mind. Something she had said a long, long time ago.

Something in case he was ever in trouble.

What was it?

The news people were already writing the his eulogy… The boy who was crushed under the weight of the Empire… or something like that possibly.

“Why did I attack your Major?” Simon suddenly asked.

“Because you are mad and crazy..” Major Herj suddenly came to life.

“Why?” Simon asked again.

“Who am I to know the mind of a crazy person?” the Major quipped, his eyes growing triumphant.

“You should.” Simon pressed. “For how many others have you give the choice of death on one hand and death with the other hand before?”

The Major began to stir slightly.

“You are the son of a traitor!” he spat out in contempt.

The Imperial Representative turned an irritated glance to Major’s way and motioned for him to be quiet. “The families of proven traitors are arrested and investigated before being allowed to go free. If found guilty of collaboration, then they are considered traitors as well and punished accordingly.” He said.

“Then why kill me now?” Simon asked, his voice nearly breaking under the stress. “I can’t be a traitor if the Empire did not kill me then.”

The Imperial man shifted at the mention of the word: kill.


“Just because you were not caught then does not mean..” the Major blundered ahead.

“I was 5 years old then! How could I hide from the Empire?” Kaine nearly shouted.


The news people were eating this up but the look on the Imperial Representative’s eyes told Simon that he had crossed the line. He had made the Empire look foolish.

And no one did that.

At least, no one did that and lived.


“Magistrate, the law regarding traitors is..”

“Dispensation.” Simon suddenly interrupted before the Imperial man could finish. “I have .. Dispensation.”

“Young man. Do you know what that means?” the Magistrate, for the first time asked, his voice drawing a scared Simon Kaine’s attention.

The 14 year old nodded. “It means I am no traitor.”

“We shall see..” the Magistrate responded, to which the Imperial man could only nod.


*

“Simon Mathias Kaine. Father: Tiren Kaine, Former Officer of the Imperial Grand Army, last seen in the Kuat System, presumed to be leading a Rebel Cell.

Mother: Celeste Kaine, Former Daughter of the Empire alcolade, Coruscant nobility,. Father, Senator Jores Vallum, retired.”

The Magistrate reading Kaine’s record looked up at the 14 year old Simon sitting across his desk. Both Imperial Officers were in the office as well, away from the prying eyes of the public.

“Imperial investigations turned up nothing to condemn Tiren’s family. Emperor Palpatine’s general order #523 calling for the execution of the children of any traitor. Dispensation for Simon Kaine granted through execution of mother, Celeste Kaine. Burial notation below.”

The Magistrate looked up at Simon.

“Young man, how did you know about this dispensation?”

“My mother, before she died told me that it could save my life. That it proved I was no traitor. She made me repeat it several times.”

Then Simon looked like he wanted to cry. “I didn’t remember it till today.”

“Well, young man, it is a good thing you remembered. It did save your life.”

He put the file away. “It appears your mother loved you very much.”

Clasping his hands back on his desk the Magistrate looked at the dirty and flimsy clothes the boy wore. “Tell me, Simon, what are you going to do now?”


“I was going to join the military, Sir.”

“You’re too young for that, but I can do one better. How about the Imperial Youth Program?”

“Sir?”

“Sort of a pre-Military school.”


*


Grand Marshall Kaine looked out over the landscape of Corellia.

“They sent me to military school here Quinn. I was placed in the care of a Major Herj.” He smiled grimly under the memories. “You might say it was an appropriate measure of revenge for the Major.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died at Endor.”


Turning from the Corellian landscape, “Captain, this planet has always teetered on the brink of conflict. Different classes of people, system factional fighting, even jealousy over Coruscant… all these things have plagued us.

I want to ensure that it ends here and now.”


“How do you plan to do that, Sir?”


“That is what Isard and I will be meeting about next week. It is something I have been thinking about for a while.”


A secret police. A way to ensure that every citizen remembers that they are accountable for their actions. Something to remind them that a little fear is a healthy thing.