VISIONS OF A BYGONE YEAR…





The Past…


The meeting was short but productive. The reconquest of the galaxy was a veritable nightmare of logistics… Vessels, different classes of vessels, captains, new commands, stormtroopers, special ops, air corps.. all these things made to fit neatly into the demanding schedule created from the mind of one Grand Marshall.


Grand Marshall.


The figure in his signature black unform, gloved hands behind his back, walked across the spit-polish catwalk of the Galactus’ command bridge musing at the title.

Before, the highest military rank of the Empire had been that of Grand Admiral. A naval ranking that superceded all ground commands.

And why not? Without the navy, where could the ground forces go?


Upon being promoted to General, Kaine found himself with vessels at his disposal. It was Grand Admiral Zell, really, that had turned a blind eye to Kaine’s unorthodox use of vessels in his designs. As a ground grunt, Kaine’s command could only grow so much. The approximate compliment a command vessel could carry.

By taking control the vessels themselves, Kaine’s command size and strength also grew. Military Command paid no real heed for there was one but one saving grace to eccentricities of command; and that was success.

The politicians, not knowing any better, had wanted to insist on making Simon Kaine a Grand Admiral, in the old tradition of Thrawn, Palleon, Zell and Hyfe.

Kaine, though, had politely refused the accolade which only led to an even greater rise of his popularity. Be ruthless, give an enemy no quarter, be even feared; but hint at being a resistor popularity and one becomes beloved.

Everyone likes the humble conqueror.

Simon smiled slightly at the thought as his experienced eyes took in the activities of the bridge crew.

But Simon cared little for humility as it related to popularity. In fact, Simon cared little for popularity for he had something more personally satisfying.

And that was purpose.

A purpose that could come to fruition by the limitations inherent with the office of a Grand Admiral. And yet, the people, the politicians desired for him to rise.

Without his rising, they would soon come to see him as resentful and a resentful Simon Kaine was not something many wished to contemplate. Simon mentally laughed at the foolish thoughts of the politicians.


Why is it that people assume that what they want, if in my place, would be exactly what I want?


And so a rank was created.

A rank as uniquely ambiguous as the person who held it.


The brilliance of it’s inception not lost to those closest to him. In fact, Ibren Chandler, now a Rear Admiral who flag was the Victory, summed up the brilliance in one stroke:

“What the hell is a Grand Marshall?”

Kaine’s usual stoic face broke into a grin that washed years away.

“That is the beauty of it Ibren. No one quite knows.”

“The name itself is disarmingly deceptive as it suggests you hold the highest ranking ground command, making you answerable to a Grand Marshall.”

“And yet?” Simon prodded.

“And yet, the Regent himself gave you powers well beyond that limited scope. Supreme Commander over all Imperial Armed Forces. Aside from the Regent, you are the highest ranking person in the Empire. Should the Regent be assassinated while sitting on his throne, the Empire would be yours.”

A hint of an approving smile played across Kaine’s lips. “The Regent will not be wasting away sitting on some throne. Daemon will be an active Regent. One who leads by example. Believe me, Ibren, the Regent will inspire the Empire to follow him.. and they will, gladly.”

“These are good days, Simon.”

“Indeed. The Republic is smashed. Commodore Trachta is proving himself admirably in the Corellian System.”

“He has a good man looking after him.”

“Yes,” agreed Kaine, a sudden warmth in his voice at the thought of his old friend Chau. “Let us not forget Desaria’s brilliant feint. Serndipal is his surely.”

“With Lebron’s extraordinary defense of Muunlist against the desperation of the small Republican faction led by some Admiral Drayson, there is no one left to oppose us openly.”

“Yes. Lebron drove him from Muunilist.” Kaine thought back to the images of the burning Arliss Towers. The attack had been personal. It was good that Jenice was on Coruscant at the time. His lips turned predatorial. It was even better for her since she could bill the government for repairs to the Towers. As I understand it, she’s not sparing any expense at their reconstruction.

Kaine’s thoughts turned back to Ibren. “But you hit a very specific point, Admiral. There is no one left to oppose us openly. Given our strength, open opposition is not what worries me. It is what goes on behind closed doors.”

“Surely, Isard is up to the task of intelligence.”

Kaine gave Chandler an inquisitive glance. “I wonder, Admiral. I truly wonder.”



*


The Present..



The engines of the Galactus were tiring. For weeks, Kaine had pushed his mighty warship to it’s limits. His men were tiring, the stress of their situation almost overpowering.


They had not heard from Imperial Center in months.

Hell, they had not heard from any Imperial, save their own fleet, for months.


“Sir?” came the 2nd shift Communications Officer.

“Yes, Petty Officer Grell?” Kaine said, although the man’s eyes already conveyed the message.

“The Invincible has hailed. They have the virus.”


The Grand Marshall’s eyes closed at the announcement. The Invincible was a Star Destroyer Class warship. And one that Kaine very much did not want to lose.

But he had no choice.

“All containment and quarantine procedures followed?” his voice was sharp and exacting.


The Petty Officer became nervous at the tone and his misery at message knew no bounds. “The Captain informed us that all procedures were followed. The contaminant was found in a packet of testing biomass in the ship’s infirmary.

“The product code tracked to where?” Kaine again fired the question.

The Petty Officer sunk his head and Simon knew the answer.


“Imperial Center.”


“Imperial Center.” Kaine whispered.


So fate decided to play with all that Kaine worked to win. The Marshall’s eyes burned at the impotence of his situation.

The remaining forces of the 256th that accompanied him were five days out of Asation. The entire world was quarantined, many already having died. With the breakdown of the holonet network, the Empire had no eyes and ears and panic had begun to set in. The fleet was in disarray but it wasn’t just localized within the Empire. No, this disease spread rapidly.

And so Kaine’s small force found itself traveling in unknown space.. to an unknown destination.

Seeing the anguish on the Petty Officer, Kaine managed a half-smile. “If anyone can hold Imperial Center from the Devil himself, it is our Regent.”

The man nodded though he seemed unmoved, “Yes sir.”

“You have a loved one on the Invincible?”

The man might have been stabbed with a blunt instrument for all the pain his face portrayed. He nodded and returned to his post.

An hour later, a bright explosion off to the port of Galactus flashed through the plexiglass windows of the bridge. The Invincible had done it’s last duty.


There was no cure.


No known cure.



Yet.


The Grand Marshall’s eyes seemed to penetrate the blackness to the bow of his warship.. as if he could see his intended goal.


Already, plans were being drawn in his mind as options and tactics were reviewed and discarded.


Solidify.

Fortify.

Identify.

Strike.


Given the situation that faced them, even if the ultimate prize of Endgame were lost, Endgame still had given him one advantage.


And that…. was knowledge.


Kaine’s eyes narrowed.


Csilla

Space was the vast ocean of emptiness that separated the island systems that comprised the Empire. One could conquer islands but the ocean? The ocean was altogether another story.

It was through this gulf of “nothing” that Kaine’s Fleet pierced into the heart of what was termed: The Unknown Regions.

Not so unknown now… mused the Grand Marshall. Granted there was much of the galaxy left to explore and conquer, yet what was known was being systematically identified, charted, and scheduled for conquest by the ever efficient Imperial Cartographers.

Kaine’s figured leaned back in his command chair, his mind drifting to the crippling action taken by the insufferable former Freedom Guard employee.

As with any action, the “Imperial Resurgence” gathered so much momentum that Endgame could not help but capitalize and profit from the conquest of Imperial Center. Such momentum, however, tended to overlook smaller issues and these small oversights were veritable time bombs waiting to explode in the Regent’s face.

As Endgame deployments ended, the plans classified once more and archived….as things began to settle once more behind Admiral Desaria’s attack on the New Republic, such a time bomb DID go off.

A time bomb in the form of Tilaric Brel and his “New Empire”.

Slaves. Kaine muttered at the lack of aesthetics such a plan boasted. Only a fool desires an empire of slaves.

The Wrath virus had been Brel’s only trump card….but at the time, it was enough.


Simon’s fingers traced the armrest of his chair as he remembered meeting a determined, yet frustrated Regent in the Imperial Palace.

“24 ships succeeded in defecting to Brel’s ‘New Empire’!!” Regent Hyfe had turned and stared long and hard at his Grand Marshall. “24, Marshall, 24!” Then, as quickly as his temper flared, Hyfe became calm and collected, his anger compressing and solidifying…searching for an acceptable target for release.
Right now, Simon was in his sights.

Kaine knew that the Regent would attack him if sufficiently compelled. Hyfe’s words were short but to the point. “What are we doing about it?”

Instead of directly answering, Kaine moved over to a rather smooth table and activated a holographic projection of the Empire.

When Kaine didn’t answer Daemon Hyfe, the Regent became annoyed. “Marshall, I asked you a question.” His voice grated.

Kaine’s gloved hands played across another flat panel that activated a news circuit broadcasting the horrors the virus had wrought upon Imperial Center. His eyes narrowed at the many projections appearing as multiple broadcasts were portrayed, each demanding answers from the Empire.

Clasping his hands behind him, Kaine suddenly turned and eyed his Regent. “What we are experiencing is exactly what we should be experiencing.”

“What??” Hyfe nearly shouted, incredulity showing fully in the former Grand Admiral.

“Endgame was not only the conquest of Coruscant. Endgame was our conquest of galactic trade. Endgame was our conquest of our own body politic. Endgame was our conquest over intelligence. Endgame was your conquest over Exceron.”

Kaine began to walk toward his Regent. “Tell me, Lord Regent, who are we?”

“We are the military..” Hyfe answered almost unconsciously.

“Then is it any wonder that the fat politicians on Bastion are resisting the idea of the Empire’s shift in power toward the core? Is it any wonder that they support this ‘New Empire’ because it’s call to arms is coming from Bastion?”

“What are you saying Kaine?”

Simon Kaine smiled slightly. “That Brel miscalculated and is helping us cut away the fat.”

“General Order Three.” The Regent said.

“Exactly! Every conquest brings it’s own percentage of …shall we say, ‘undesireables, miscreants, ..rebels, troublemakers and weak. General Order Three is the purge of that. The cutting away of the fat leaving only the prime that is the Empire.”

“So on the outside, he draws our weak soldiers, our weak politicians… all those that would eventually have been purged under General Order Three and he’s saving us the trouble of finding them.

It is brilliant actually. If I had figured a virus would bring their numbers to light, I would have immediately implemented it myself.”

“What about Imperial Center itself?”

Kaine raised an eyebrow. “What about it? We hold the center. It will not break for we are too well entrenched now. Let them play their games at Bastion, we hold the center.”

“The virus is here as well..”

“..and while we cannot control the virus, we can… how do you say it… direct it.”

“Direct it where, Marshall?”

“Why to the lower levels, of course! The alien sectors, of course! To the defeated Republican National Party who seems to think they can still voice opposition to the Empire on a media level. We hold the center Lord. We have conquered Coruscant but let us not fall asleep in thinking that our new citizens are true full blown Imperials. Too many of them shouted their joy when Palpatine fell. I’ve seen the holo-vids of Coruscant during that time. These people chose freedom over security and now they are paying the price for their lack of ..vision.”

Kaine paused, turning back to the transmissions. “Either way, Lord, many people will die from the Wrath virus before we crush this “New Empire” and take the antidote from Brel’s dead body. We can either let the virus choose who it kills at random or we can point it in a direction and let it run it’s course.”


“If we bring in more Loyalists from the rest of the Empire they become exposed to the virus. If we keep them where they are, far away from the center, we leave them to Brel’s misinformation and lies.”

“That point becomes moot Lord if we do not have the military resources available to combat this… infestation.”


“So you think I should act on this Gash Jiren’s message?”


“The enemy of my enemy is my friend….. for now..” Simon grinned.


The Regent’s mood seemed to have brightened slightly. “Better to have the Republicans fight for us than against us.”


“The fact that they can fight at all is amazing. Already we hold more worlds than their so-called New Republic ever dreamed of.”


“But they are not beaten. And if Wrath does more damage to us that we expect, I feel that our old nemesis will return.”

“I am working on that, Lord.”

“Do not fail me, Grand Marshall.”

The plan was straightforward enough.


Smash the Chiss into thinking twice before ever… ever taking up arms against the Empire in the form of befriending the Empire’s nemesis, the New Republic.

Following Endgame, the Empire led a series of conquests intended to grip the known galaxy firm.

With Desaria’s Campaign against the New Republic in the Core going well, especially under his rising soldier Commodore Trachta, it was not going well enough to suite the Regent.

The New Republic bitterly held the Corellian System and was loath to allow any Imperial encroachment no matter how well fought.

But fall those Core Worlds would.

Eventually.

With the Empire expanding on all fronts but the Inner Rim, resources were pouring into the Empire’s coffers while the Republic fed off it’s own fallen heros’ bones.

The Corellian System had been under blockade for most of the year following the conquest of Imperial Center.

But there was still hope for the rebellious government. That hope lay in smoldering embers the far reaching plans of the Republic’s Jedi protectors, leaders, defenders…

Politicians…, thought Kaine with a scorn that held little fury. He’d fought enough Republicans not to dismiss their actions out of hand despite Imperial propaganda. Sheer principle alone kept the Grand Marshall from underestimating his foes and so he held a seemingly unprecedented respect for this foe that was crumbling.

Searthen Jiren, a Sith-turned-Jedi Master had a will that was formidable and rumors were starting to come alive regarding the thought-deceased-Jedi Xylon Hexyra.

Yet, whatever the present state of these two Jedi in this galactic whirlpool of turmoil, one thing was evident: they had made plans for the future of the Republic.

The captured records on Coruscant spoke as much.

A second Republic capital in the making… a fresh start for the rebels to resume their seditious acts against the Regent.


Csilla.



Kaine’s own personal experience with the Chiss did not put the people in a position of favor. First, the Chiss pirate who had killed his friend as a boy on Arcadia, Second, the Former Imperial Grand Admiral, the self styled warlord who eventually came to turn his energies against the Empire (with the help of Jiren’s @#%$ son!).

Yes, Thrawn had paid for that presumption…but not as dearly as Kaine had wanted. Third had been the part Chiss warlord self styled Emperor Fearsons whose own loyalties to his former masters was clouded at best.

All these Chiss were formidable, a quality that Simon did not deny this foe, but in the end, they were self serving, disloyal to their first cause and ultimately not to be trusted.

Imperial Intelligence had indicated a coalition of Chiss houses united for a common purpose but they still held Csilla in high regard.

..and as long as Csilla remained Republican, the entire Chiss people would remain enemies of the Imperial State..

Kaine’s mission was to sever once and for all the connection between the Chiss and the Republic. Destroy any chance that on Csilla a new Republic capital would rise and mold the Chiss mindset to one more “Imperial” in nature.

All this, while Daemon Hyfe, Jiren, and their respective fleets (or what was left of them) finished off the pretender on Bastion.


But just how strong of a Republic presence was there on Csilla?

That remained to be seen.

"How long ago?"

"A few hours..."

"Why wasn't I informed?"

The office grew silent, four pairs of glowing crimson eyes blazing through the darkness. Xilen sat in silence, the smooth texture of the datapad his only comfort. Hie legs were kicked up over the blue-grey metallic desk sitting in front of a large transparisteel window that overlooked the City of Ignias from the high-rise Central Command Center.

Xilen sat up, his inky blue fist slamming on the cold metallic desk that sit before him. The datapad in his hand shaking as his hand trembled with frusteration. "A warfleet enters the sanctity of Enclave space, passes through unnoticed toward the New Republic world of Csilla, and you dare to tell me that it happened a few hours ago? Get out!"

As the man left, the Sovereign Admiral stood from the delicate leather chair, smoothing the wrinkles out of his Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet uniform. Pressing a small red buttom, the voice of a female came over the com-link.

"Yes, Sovereign Admiral Aldrex'ile'nuruodo?"

"Sareen, order my advisors to prepare my shuttle. I'll take care of this personally..."

Hours past as if they were days, the Sovereign Admiral's patience growing more and more thin.... more and more prone to be broken all-together. The shuttle jettisoned through the dark recesses of space toward the awaiting First Fleet, stationed only a light year or so from the planet of Ignias.

As the shuttle slowly crept through the cargo doors of the larger Defender-Class Star Destroyer, deemed Spirit of Csilla ironicly enough, the blue glow of it's engines sputtered to a halt.

Phalanx Troopers stood in perfect unison on each side of the shuttle, prepared to greet there supreme commander, Line Captain Yenaj'ani'nuruodo standing with a small entourage of officers to await the Lambda-Class Shuttle.

"We welcome you aboard the Spirit of Csilla, Sovereign Admiral." Janin's voice spoke up as he stepped down from the ramp, a strange cheerfulness in his voice. Xilen did not comprehend the welcome, but merely marched past the men followed closely by a technical bridge crew.

The entourage continued forward, entering the airlocked blast doors of the bridge within mere minutes. The highly specialized technical officers stormed forward, taking full command of the Spirit of Csilla's command stations.

Janin stormed forward, his thin body bouncing around in chaos. "What's the meaning of this Sovereign Admiral?"

"This ship, and it's crew have proven there ineffectiveness. The Central Command of the Chiss Enclave by order of the Parliament. You are releaved of duty, Line Captain."

"Take us into hyperspace, Commadore Trenin. Coordinates zero four nine, seven eight seven, the Csilla system."

Republican presence was not as strong as Kaine had thought. The reason behind the circumstance was something that made the Grand Marshall almost wish for the might of the Republic Navy.

Or what was left of it.

Keeping their respective fleets intact seemed more and more of a losing battle.

The Abolishers of the 256th had activated as per Imperial Procedures.

The machines for keeping the "ice age" at bay were shown to be in excellent condition.

Good news for the inhabitants no doubt. But what to do about the inhabitants.


The "invasion" of Csilla had taken a turn for the surreal as evidence of the Wrath virus was found.

The Imperial Army now was finding itself quarantining the old Republican administrative centers.

The documentation that intelligence poured through even gave Kaine pause.

But his mind was still resolute in it's purpose.

The edict had been issued publicly and by the eyes of the inhabitants, they felt nothing but contempt for him.

Rebel sympathizers.

The families who shared levels of responsibility and power in the New Republic's fledgling "democracy" were rounded up, sparing no one. Men, women and children.

While reporting on the success is easy enough, the reality of the campaign proved much more difficult.

The massive ISD's in orbit kept watch over a hostile population.

A pity.. The Chiss here held such promise.

There were rumors of renegade families pulling the pieces of their culture together. And if Intel reports were anythiing to go by, that culture would be powerful indeed.

But such reports were not from first hand experience.

Even here in the Unknown Regions, Imperial presence was limited. Kaine's campaigning only mapped so much... leaving more questions about the area than answers.

Rumors from traders, pirates and spacefaring nomads.


There had been no word from Imperial Center for a long time and the Grand Marshall wondered if Hyfe still stood as Regent.


All these musings as his edict was carried out on the planet below cast a shadow over all that which he worked prior.

A shadow cast by the renegade Intel agent.


Freedom Guard!


Kaine's lips curled in disgust at the thought.


We were too.. kind. We were too merciful.


No more!


Imperial Policy beforehand had been directed by the political branch of the Empire. Politicians who worked to currey favor for their own personal gain.

It was an old story.

But one that hurt the Empire once too often.


Kaine's thoughts suddenly took savage satisfaction that those same politicians were backing this "New Empire" from Bastion where the Regent's forces would crush them once and for all.


"Sir?" came a voice from the bridge proper.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Reports from the ground forces have come back." the voice ventured, as if almost afraid.

"And?" prompted Kaine, an irritated flare coming into his countenance... at least, until he noted the soldier's face.

"Wrath has spread."

Kaine's hand curled into a fist.

"That traitor had better hope he dies on Bastion..."


All plans for returning to the Empire were automatically put on hold.

"We hold here and reinforce." the Grand Marshall ordered.

"What of the inhabitants?"

"The greater Chiss culture left this planet when it was a solid ball of ice. Those present now are merely weaklings misguided by the rebels."

"Seems like an underestimation..." intruded Sveli.

Kaine looked at his Second in Command and smiled though his eyes held no mirth.

"It looks like we shall have to go ahead with Project: Insidion after all."

"Sir, that plan banks on a victorious Regent."

"If Hyfe is not victorious, then we are all dead. Contact the army below. We might as well use it while it is still effective to some degree. Start quarantine procedures with the population... execute all infected."

"And our men?"

"When they cannot go on any more.." Kaine's eyes closed, "..then end their suffering too."


"Inform the Insidion and Captain Merrik we shall require him after all."

"At once, Marshall."


Kaine turned to the blue visage of Csilla.

May your children scattered prove better than the rebel sympathizers you now hold.


Soon either the Regent will be triumphant and we live or he will not and we all die.


Insidion shall live.


The Empire shall live.

Time passed and Kaine spent the next six months on Csilla. During that time, the Wrath virus was taking it’s toll upon the population as well as the soldiers of the Empire.

The necessity of quarantine prompted the Imperials to send certain individuals to the Insidion.

Those left on the planet were left to their own devices until word was to come from the Regent.

That word took entirely too long.

By the time it came, Kaine’s force had been reduced to the Galactus and two small escort carriers. The Insidion and Captain Merrik had left a month before when Wrath seemed to move outside of the Imperial Containment Procedures.

As the sixth month came up upon Kaine, he began to appreciate just how viral the weapon the former Intelligence Officer wielded.

A single holonet transmission from the Military Command, Imperial Center. That, in itself, gave the Grand Marshall relief for his faith held true. The center did not break.

The Empire on the whole, however… this was another story.

A courier ship arrived six weeks later with the cure. Hundreds died in the interim between the Regent’s transmission and the arrival of the cure.

The info-net news network told Kaine just how out of touch he had been.

The Empire’s grip had been shaken, once again… by the dissent of a few.

Was there no end to rebellion?

The face of the traitor and the classified briefing sent to him on the Battle of Bastion was a slap in the face as to what galaxy he really lived in.

No matter what order you try to carve out of the galaxy…. It always seems to come down to those that want something different.


Part of the Grand Marshall’s mind was tired. The futility of action seemed to echo in his mind.

He looked down at the datapad before him, describing the details of Insidion. He had wrestled for months over the wisest course of action.

He walked outside at the mass rows of graves of his soldiers and rekindled the bitterness of the price he paid.

As his shuttle removed the last of the Imperial officers from the deserted planet, his mind sparked a thought that made him grimly smile.

Here, in the Unknown Regions, he’d been a warlord in every sense of the word. And now, as his armies were reduced to almost nothing more than honorguards, he felt like a retreating general .. but retreating in the face of no enemy.

Retreating from the harsh realities the galaxy through his way.

“Shuttle secured sir.” Came the voice of the officer of the watch over the comm.. Captain Sveli’s voice also intruded, “Welcome aboard, Marshall.”

“Acknowledged.” Answered a Spartan for Kaine.

The cool air of the Galactus’ shuttle deck brought back a rush of memories.

Standing on the deck of Admiral Hyfe’s Victory Class Star Destroyer as Captain Chandler, Major Sveli, Major Quinn and he went over the details of the Muunilist assault.

Their arrival to Bastion was full of hope.

They had come home.

The legacy of the Empire was not going to die.

Simon noted with interest the differences that had carved themselves into his personality from Colonel to Grand Marshall.

Perhaps he needed humbling to see that he was not omniscient. That he was not omnipotent.

The proposal the Vinda Corporation being forgotten in the wake of The New Empire… Already lost to the chaos once more were those worlds once held by Cryonics Industries.

Muunilist was cut off from the Imperial Holonet Network, for how long he didn’t know. The attack on the Towers had happened before Kaine left for the Unknown Regions, but an inquiry sent a few days ago confirmed that Jenice soon left for Muunilist. About the time the 256th reached Asation.

Simon went directly to his conference room and noted that the Captain had seen fit to activate the slowly spinning, mesmerizing holographic projection of the galaxy.

He sat down ..or rather slumped down into his plush chair as he rested his head on a raised gloved hand watching through tired eyes the broken galaxy.

The Unknown Regions were, for now, being abandoned by the Empire.

All assets.. .whatever survived the short spurt of The New Empire were being recalled.

The Galactus shuddered slightly as it made the jump to lightspeed leaving Csilla behind.

Empty.


It had taken six months to do it, even amid the destruction of the Wrath virus.

After successful blockade of the Corellian System by Desaria and his aspiring protégé, Trachta, the New Republic’s infrastructure began to fail.

The unraveling of the Republic was an achievement in itself but it was one the Empire could not take advantage of immediately.

For another fool will soon fill the void.

Those soldiers, those fighters, those rebels … those Jedi.. who seemed to keep their dream alive were falling back… perhaps regrouping.

But their options were limited.

There would be no second Republic capital on Csilla.

And so the rebels would remain a ragtag band.. shards really of the arrow sent to pierce the heart of the Empire.

Admiral Hexyra… the Jedi Organa Solo.. the Rogue Jedi Searthen Jiren…

They were out there somewhere..

And if not them, even if they had fallen, the seeds of inspiration they were assuredly pass on were out there..

Waiting..

The Grand Marshall’s eyes glanced at the rotating galaxy once more.

The pieces were there!

They were not gone… merely broken.

The chance just had to be seized.



He started to smile.


He could see the inquisitors ready for him as he stepped foot on Imperial Center.


”Grand Marshall, we are here to ask why you saw fit to leave the Empire in its time of greatest need for the Unknown Regions?”

“Grand Marshall, where were you when the last battle of Bastion took place?”


He started to laugh.

Fools!

The big picture remains a haze for them.

It was time for another round of the game.



He took out a datapad and looked at it.

Project: Insidion.

Out there, somewhere (Kaine smiled for he knew where) the Star Destroyer Insidion was acting.

Out there, Csilla had been properly cleansed of Republican sympathizers and the was now ready for habitation. Even the programming the Rebels installed in their floating “ice melters” was changed, the new Imperial Protocols in place to have them running for centuries if need be.

The planetary ice age would be quelled by things man-made.

The Imperial Engineers were impressed by the sheer design of the machines and it took a lot to impress the Imperial Engineers.
He remembered he had put Spartans behind slicers and ordered the slicers to hack into the machine’s programming to test the Imperial software, their success earning them the right to live.

When the last slicer was dead, he felt confident.

The Chiss offshoot families were growing in strength… possibly due to the expansion the Republic initiated in their part of space.

Csilla would make a perfect bargain sealer.


All in good time.


Buy off the barbarians.. the stray thought from literature, but a reference he knew not from where.


It was time to reinforce the center.



In the seventh month, of the “Year of Transition”, Grand Marshall Kaine entered orbit around Imperial Center.

He had left Imperial Space months before with an entire fleet. Now, the Galactus was all that remained.


His shuttle made its way down to a personally styled landing platform, its benefactor having somewhat odd tastes. It was not the preferred landing platform the upper echelon of the Military Command deigned to use for their departures and returns but it suited Kaine just fine. Anonymity was what he preferred.

Ibren Chandler was on hand to greet him as his shuttle touched down. The weathered looking Spartans marched in unison down the ramp, Chandler’s men, drawing themselves up to full attention.

The Grand Marshall exited down the middle of the ramp, his Spartans flanking him, and suddenly stopped as he reached the platform. He turned to the right of the platform and then the left, the wind from the high altitudes casting his hair every which way.

He moved forward, motioning the Spartans to stay behind straight for Chandler.

“Ibren” he commented, though his voice held no certain quality, the other, who knew him best, could tell the Marshall was very pleased to see him.

“Kaine.” He responded, dipping his head in respect. Then more formally, “Grand Marshall, welcome home.”


A grin spread across Simon’s face making the lines of experience on his face disappear, revealing a younger man inside.

No fanfare. No crowds. No ceremonies.

Just Simon Kaine and those that had stuck by him from the beginning.

Comfort was returning to the Grand Marshall, as a gust of wind reached out to grab the flaps of his black overcoat.

“You’ve made Admiral, I see.”

Admiral Chandler nodded. “Something or other about Endgame.”

“And Quinn?”

“Made Captain. He is out on Patrol, his report one you should see.”

Kaine nodded. “Captain Sveli will be down shortly.”

“I haven’t seen that old space dog in months. Was the plan successful?”

Simon sighed. “It was accomplished. As to whether it ever proves successful, we shall have to see what time brings.”

To which Admiral Chandler nodded.

“If nothing else, the planet is valuable to a certain extent.” Kaine continued.

Then quietly, “How are things?”

Chandler gave a snort, “I would say pretty much the same. Our Military Command getting lost in the chaos of that ‘New Empire’ debacle. The politicians power has been smashed and the Imperial Senate is now defunct.”

“Serves them right for backing the traitor. Bastion?”

“Being moved on as we speak.”

“Good. The Regent?”


“Now, that’s the question. It is rumored he contracted the Wrath virus and is having a hard time recovering but recovering he is. But that is conjecture, though one allowed by the Imperial Guard.”

“By the Emperor, he’d better pull through!” snapped Simon.

“What do we look like overall? Can we campaign?”

“On a small scale only. We’ve been kicked down and smashed to bits by this virus. Though the galaxy is also no better, our advantages are again few and far inbetween.”

Simon cursed quietly. “Get what forces you can! We need to move immediately!”

“Muunilist?” was Chandler’s innocent enough query.

Simon shot him a bemused look but shook his head. “No. Corellia.”

“You’d better see this report from Captain Quinn, then Sir.”