It was, Theren decided, all very basic.

The Empire had decreed that a stronger presence was needed in the Core Regions. The Bastion Conclave sought a similar goal, the council of Lieutenant-Governors wishing to consolidate their control of the territory around Duro. The decision had been reached primarily for economic motivations.

So, he would do so. There was no grand plan or brilliant scheme to be had; simply conquest. Conquest, and a cold, definite, dispassionate decision to do so. In a way, this was the crux of the thing; it still brought an ache to the pit of Theren’s stomach to, in such a way, order a course of action that would undoubtedly lead to the loss of human life.

The holographic map rotated before him, the stars of the core twisting slowly. Theren reached out, tapping one of the stars. From it sprang the word “Corulag”. He touched another, and “Chandrila” leapt from it. “Corulag and Chandrila,” he said quietly.

Tornel nodded. “Two old, loyal Imperial worlds. Rather simplistic,” he said, almost questioningly.

“Maybe,” Theren replied.

Bastion

The Lieutenant-Governors spoke quietly amongst themselves, whispering to one another in the dark room. For the most part, there was little doubt among them what the meeting, called by Theren, pertained to; the further expansion of the Bastion Conclave. A number of the governors had been clamoring unnecessarily for the expansion, citing trade interests.

At the head of the darkened room, having still not called the meeting to order, Theren sat, quietly conversing with a Conclave Executor who had, seconds before, entered the room. “Yeah,” Theren said, nodding and giving the report an appraising glance. “Thanks. Would you two mind waiting by the door?” The two Executors, genetically modified Yevetha in fully Legionnaire garb, bowed. Of course they did not mind; they were unswervingly loyal to Theren. If he ordered them into a blast furnace, they would follow the command without a second thought.

Theren glanced back at Tornel, who stood, seen and not heard, behind him. He gestured for him to step forward, and showed him the report. He then nodded briefly at two of the governors; one from Belsavis, the other from Duro. Tornel nodded his agreement wordlessly.

“Alright,” Theren said, calling the meeting to order casually. All talking immediately ceased, and attention was once again on him. “Before we go ahead, does anyone have something they’d like to bring up?”

The Lieutenant-Governor of Duro cleared his throat loudly. His name was Kiefer Nivalos, a son of a wealthy merchant around thirty years of age, young and inexperienced at his trade; he’d been installed as the head-of-state of Duro only because of his economic standing. Theren had left the Council to make the decision on who was to run Duro, and had regretted doing so ever since. Nivalos was pompous, arrogant, and self-interested in the extreme, and Theren hated him. “Mastel, one of Duro’s orbital cities, is in a rapid state of orbital decay, Governor Gevel,” he said. “I must request funding to correct this problem.”

Across the table, Cris Kellis, the representative of Karfeddion, chortled and looked disdainfully at Nivalos. “What’s wrong – won’t daddy’s trust fund cover this one?” Kellis was several years Nivalos’ senior (and, similarly, older than Theren), and wholly more politically experienced. As a son of a middle-class Caridan family, Kellis had risen quickly through the ranks of Carida’s government, to take a position with quite a bit of clout in the Governor’s office. Because of his low birth and lack of familial connections, he likely would never have surpassed this office, until Theren sought him out and offered him a position in the Conclave.

Nivalos shot a look of pure venom at Kellis, who chuckled at the reaction. The Lieutenant-Governor of Duro then glanced at Theren, as if requesting backup against the miscreant before him. “That’s enough, Kellis,” Theren said lightly, not quite the reprimand Nivalos had been wishing for. “Though I agree with you. Hike taxes, Mr. Nivalos. Charge the corporations on your world more for operation, nationalize one if you have to. I shouldn’t even have to hear about this shit. Take care of it on your own time.”

Kellis smirked triumphantly. Despite being older than Theren, he certainly acted about half his age. “Wouldn’t want to do that, eh, Kiefer? After all, you’ll have to see the CEOs of all those companies at daddy’s Life Day party, and god knows you couldn’t do without getting a fruit basket from the head of ErixElectronics.”

Nivalos gritted his teeth and shot Kellis another poisonous glare. Theren waved a hand. “Okay, kids. Stop fighting or we’ll be going to our corners for a time-out.” He stood up, hitting a button on the wall behind him, causing a large hologram of the planet Corulag to appear over the table. “Now, on to the reason we’re all here. This is Corulag, which I assume most of you have heard of. It was, at one point, a model Imperial planet; a well-behaved and loyal city world. It’s on the Perlemian trade route, in the core, making it a perfect target for expansion.”

He let this sink in, for a moment, then continued. “According to our most recent intelligence, in the absence of Imperial rule, several corporations have emerged to, in essence, rule the world. While the planet gives the outward appearance of having an independent, autonomous government, these corporations – the largest of which is Lexicon Industries – have effectively bought the government.”

Several heads bobbed up and down. Several did not. One of these was that of Veerax Kaln, the Lieutenant-Governor of Belsavis. He was a balding, middle-aged man who, just like Nivalos, had strong ties to big business. He squinted at the hologram, as if this would give him a clear view of some great truth. “That’ll only make for a prosperous economy, in my opinion,” he said.

“Really, Mr. Kaln?” Theren tilted his head. “Is economy more important than loyalty?”

“Well –”

“Don’t answer that, you dumb fuck, if you want to remain on this council.” Theren shook his head. “It is my opinion that, in order to secure the loyalty Corulag was once known for, we should nationalize Lexicon and several of its satellite organizations. They’re too powerful, they hold too much influence. The citizens of Corulag should swear allegiance to the Regent, not to a corporation.” He paused. “Does anyone object to this course of action?”

The hands of Kiefer Nivalos and Veerax Kaln shot up. “With all due respect, Governor,” Nivalos began, “I don’t believe that Corulag will be of great use to us without the economic benefits of free capitalism, uninterrupted by government –”

“Is that so, Nivalos?” Theren scratched his chin for a moment. “Because here’s what I think. I think that you work for your father first, and the Empire second. And I think – well, actually, I know – that Lexicon Industries already possesses construction facilities and vast stock holdings on both of your worlds. And I think you’re full of shit, both of you.”

Theren glanced to the doors of the darkened room, and nodded briefly to the two Conclave Executors. Without a sound, the two slipped from their positions. A second later, both Nivalos and Kaln slumped over the desk in front of them, blood pouring from claw wounds on their necks. The red-armored soldiers stood behind them, at attention again. “That’ll be all,” Theren said to them. “And take these two with you.”

The council stared in awe at the two dead men. Cris Kellis shrugged. “Easy come, easy go,” he said, and Theren had to restrain himself from laughing, despite the complete humorlessness of the situation.

“Our friends Nivalos and Kaln had already been bought by Lexicon Industries. If any more self-serving capitalist assholes have found their way into my Conclave, I suggest that you leave Bastion and don’t come back, after I adjourn this meeting.” He looked around at the faces of the Conclave’s members. Some were horrified, some relieved it wasn’t them. Kellis seemed to find the whole situation rather boring. “Now,” Theren continued. “I expect the usual detachment of Legionnaires from each of your garrisons with which to complete this conquest. That’ll be all.”

The Lieutenant-Governor’s began to get to their feet, shuffling from the darkened Conclave chambers slowly. “Kellis,” Theren said. “If you’d – uh – grace us with your presence for a moment.”

Kellis stopped and returned to his seat. The door shut, the last of the others having left. “Is this the part were you kill me?” He said, smirking slightly.

“You’re a real comedian, Cris,” Theren replied. “We knew about Nivalos and Kaln. Those Executors brought me an intelligence report on the status of Corulag and the connections of Lexicon Industries before the meeting started. It seems that Lexicon has been buying up stock and real estate on Duro and Belsavis like mad. Did you know about this?”

Kellis shrugged. “I knew that Nivalos was a greedy son of a bitch,” he said. “And I knew that is loyalty always lay first and foremost with his father’s business, not to mention his own wallet. Why?”

“I don’t like that Lexicon has been able to buy their way onto this council. Not that I ever took the advice of Nivalos or Kaln seriously, but it bothers me that they could’ve been feeding Lexicon classified information.”

Kellis turned serious for a moment, suddenly looking every bit his age. “Look, Theren. You’ve got to learn to trust your gut instinct on these things. If someone rubs you the wrong way, dump them. You can’t have trust issues in a group like this one.”

Theren nodded, grateful for the advice.

“Is that all?” Kellis asked.

“Actually, no,” Theren said. “You’re being given command of Belsavis, as well as Karfeddion. I don’t feel like replacing Kaln, and technically, those two worlds are a confederacy anyway.”

Kellis nodded. “Thanks.” He got up, and left.

Tornel stepped forward again, glancing at Theren. “You think Lexicon has someone else?”

Theren thought a moment. “No, they don’t. But I know they have interests on other Conclave worlds. Which puts them a little too close to us for comfort.”

Tornel still had the intelligence report in his hand. “Their assets are huge. They’re worth more than Vinda Corp was, before the Battle of Bastion.” Vinda Corp had, of course, since grown to a size that dwarfed any other business in the galaxy. But nonetheless, the implication was there; Lexicon had grown to an insane size.

“They’re too cocky. We’re going to nationalize them soon. If necessary, before we return Corulag to the fold.”

Bastion

Lieutenant Dayvid Tornel was used to walking down the halls of one of Regent’s Glory, Bastion’s many hospitals late at night. Holotabloids had started implying less-than-flattering (and quite untrue) things about his relationship with the psychotherapy patient by the name of Kieryn.

What his actual relationship with Kieryn was, Tornel didn’t know. The woman had been driven insane by her mental slavery to the Dark Jedi Master Karrix Moraei. Their disrespect was mutual, and she gave the impression that she liked him very little, yet he’d been visiting her in the hospital for months. He could recall their last meeting, wherein Kieryn had seemed, at first, quiet and pleasant. Then, without warning, she erupted into a rage, hurling potted plants, pens, and pencils with her newfound gift of the Force. Tornel had left with a black eye.

The door to her room slid open, identifying him as a legitimate visitor. It was, of course, locked to Kieryn, who was a danger to herself and everyone else. “Kieryn?” He said, flicking on the hospital’s light. “Are you awake?”

Of course, she was. Tornel suspected that she rarely slept. She sat up, on her bed, looking out the hospital window at the glowing lights of Bastion’s metropolis. “Yes,” she replied, turning back to glance at her visitor. She was, Tornel reflected, very beautiful. Her dark hair framed her large, green eyes like that of some great holodrama actress.

“Thank you,” she said. Tornel was absolutely sure he’d thought the last bit, not said it, but quickly recalled that Kieryn had become adept at reading thoughts and feelings through the Force.

Tornel took a few more steps, and sat down in the room’s one visitor’s chair. She seemed amiable, that night, so he didn’t risk disturbing her as she stared out the transparisteel window. Finally, she turned around. “How are they treating you?” Tornel asked.

“How do they ever treat mental patients?” She asked in reply. “They drug me and take me to therapy sessions. But I’ve learned how to counteract the effects of the drugs.”

“With the Force?”

Kieryn shrugged, which meant yes. Tornel noted again that there was only one chair in the room, which always seemed to stay where he left it. “Does anyone else come to visit you, Kieryn?” He asked rather suddenly. She seemed taken aback, and looked down at the bed.

“No,” she admitted. Tornel, who had blurted the quietly out abruptly, had half expected her to fly into another one of her trademark rages. But, strangely enough, she didn’t.

There were a few more minutes of silence, during which Kieryn did not look up. “Why did you attack me, the last time I was here?” He finally asked. “Again, I mean?”

She chuckled a little. “You remember, it was night, just like this. You and I were talking. But when I looked into your eyes, and into your thoughts, I felt nothing there.”

“Nothing?” Tornel asked. “What do you mean, nothing?”

“No feelings. No feelings for me,” she added, and comprehension clicked for Tornel. Kieryn looked up at him, and met his gaze.

Now it was Tornel who looked away. “Kieryn,” he said. “I’m sorry. You know…”

“…that I’m a mental patient. I’ve been abused. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence, again. “I hate this place,” Kieryn finally said. “There’s no healing, here, only sedatives and unfriendly doctors.”

Tornel raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I can help.”



Theren sat quietly in his Bastion office. The Governor’s office. At this moment, though, he felt that he’d rather be occupying any other job. The door slid open, and Tornel entered, taking a seat across from his commander. “You called?” He said.

“Yeah,” Theren replied. He pushed a small datapad towards Tornel, who took it up and began to examine it. “Just for the hell of it, I decided to put an offer to the Corulag government about joining the Empire. Negotiators and representatives haven’t landed yet, but I figured I might as well give it a shot.”

“It didn’t pass,” Tornel observed, eyes still on the datapad.

“No shit.” There rubbed his eyes. “What’s important is the margin. In a house of one-hundred, it was ninety-one to nine. We’re fucked.”

Tornel looked up. “Why?”

“The turnover that we usually get from negotiations is somewhere between thirty-five and forty percent. And it’s never forty percent. At best, we lose the measure in a close race. At worst, we get slaughtered.”

Tornel sat back. “I thought this was supposed to be simple.”

“So did I.”

“So, what comes next?” Tornel asked.

“We deal with Lexicon. It’s the only option.”

At that moment, the door to Theren’s office burst open, shining light into the dark room. At the door stood a very beautiful young woman, with dark hair and green eyes. Her figure was impeccable, as was her dress – and Theren instantly knew who it was. “You forgot to give me the code for your apartment’s lock,” she said to Tornel.

“Oh,” Tornel said, glancing at Theren, then the woman. “Sorry, Kieryn. It’s 34510X.”

“Thank you.” She glanced up at Theren. “Sorry to interrupt,” she added, though her tone denoted that she wasn’t so much sorry as quite pleased with herself.

Kieryn left, and the door shut. Theren pulled his disbelieving eyes away from the door, and fixed them on an embarrassed Tornel, who seemed to be looking everywhere but at his commander. “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

Tornel continued to find the walls of Theren’s office extremely interesting. “I, uh, may have…”

“Fuck me,” Theren muttered, shaking his head.

Bastion

Tornel looked at the report on Donovyn Welland for the umpteenth time, glancing up only momentarily to observe Theren’s reaction. “It doesn’t look as if he’ll be very receptive to nationalization,” he said. “Jumped onto the power bandwagon as soon as Imperial occupation ended… strong anti-Imperial sentiments.”

“Yeah,” Theren acknowledged wearily. “He’s going to have to be eliminated.”



The Zenith,
Corulag System

The hologram took a moment to resolve itself into a clear image before anything could be made out. Then, what they were seeing became apparent; it was a small, gray hallway. It was nondescript enough to have been from any one of a thousand commercial buildings across the galaxy, but even before the camera’s perspective shifted to reveal a corporate logo, everyone on the bridge of the Zenith knew what they were seeing; the inside of Lexicon headquarters on Corulag.

“Can you hear me?” Theren said, the holoprojector’s receivers transmitting his voice automatically.

“Yes, sir,” rasped the voice of a Yevethan. It was nighttime on the part of Corulag that the Lexicon Industries headquarters were situated, and the hallway on the hologram before them was deserted.

“Sir?” Came the voice of one of the communications officers, in the real world, this time. Theren turned to look at him. “We’re being hailed by one of the envoys. They want to discuss the progress of the proceedings.”

Theren frowned. “I don’t have time. Tell him I’m away. Make something up.”

He turned back to the holographic display. They had landed a team of ambassadors, combining both members of the Conclave governments and Lieutenant-Governors of the Conclave itself, on Corulag one day previous. The planetary government had agreed to hear the proposals that were to be brought forth by the Bastion Conclave ambassadorial team. In truth, however, the proceedings were little more than cover for the actual plan conceived by Theren.

The holographic feed from the helmet of the Conclave Executor continued to display the Special Forces unit moving swiftly down the hall. The thing had disabled the security systems of the building before linking up to the Zenith, so as to avoid detection of the outbound signal. The surveillance holorecorders sat lifelessly on the ceilings of the building, not detecting the Executor’s swift passage.

The Executor rounded a corner, and a armed guard station came into view on the left. “Don’t touch him. Avoid detection,” ordered Theren, and the soldier followed orders. Ducking deftly under the viewport on the guard’s station, it moved undetected past the barely-alert guard. The Executor continued down the hallways for several more minutes, taking occasional direction from Theren himself, until it came to a set of double doors.

It had been quite a feat in itself to get the Executor inside the facility. It had been forced to scale the side of the building, entering through a set of ventilation ducts. All, without detection.

The intelligence report had made it apparent that the CEO of Lexicon Industries, Donovyn Welland, lived in his office and had made facilities available for him to sleep there, most nights. “The doors are bound to be alarmed,” Theren said. The double doors were made of Kashyyykan wood, which meant that they wouldn’t be hard to open. Clearly, a trap for potential thieves and assassins.

“Use your claws. Cut an entrance in one of the doors,” Theren orders, and watched as his commands were complied with onscreen. The Executor’s claws could be heard sliding from their arm-sheaths, and then seen digging sharply into the wood and cutting a small, rectangular hole. It was about four feet off the ground; too high to step through.

Theren watched in amazement as the Executor stepped back a few paces, took a running start, and leapt, face-first, through the entrance he’d cut. “These things weren’t a bad investment,” observed Tornel.

The Executor stood up, finding itself in an average executive office, and opening another set of doors after a moment of observation. Inside was a large, king-size bed made of a regal-looking wood and framed by four bed posts. The Executor continued to walk forward determinedly. “Kill him,” Theren ordered.



“What was so important, a minute ago?” Kellis asked, raising an eyebrow. He’d been chosen to head up the diplomatic team on Corulag.

Theren looked about. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“We just assassinated the CEO of Lexicon Industries. Tomorrow, their nationalization will be publicly announced. The company will be in a state of disarray; they’ll have no choice but to accept.” Theren took a deep breath. “After that, we should be able to force Corulag’s return to the fold.”

Other men might’ve been shocked by the announcement of such sinister espionage; if Cris Kellis was, he gave no sign of it. “Good. Because we’re not getting anywhere, down here. Even without announcing our intentions of nationalizing Lexicon, it seems like it’s been implied; they won’t budge.”

Theren snorted. “It didn’t have to be implied. Lexicon had and probably has men on the inside; they know.”

Kellis nodded in comprehension. “What’re my orders, for tomorrow?”

“Offer the stability of the Empire. They should be more receptive.”



Corulag

“Today, in a holographed announcement broadcasted throughout the Empire, Commodore and Governor Theren Gevel announced the nationalization of the corporation known as Lexicon Industries. Earlier this morning, the business announced that its Chief Executive Officer, Donovyn Welland, had been killed. The business began to fall into disarray, as investor confidence dropped and lawyers mobilized, squabbling over stock deals and heirs to the company’s throne. This announcement was then released from the office of the Bastion Conclave:

‘People of the Empire, I come before you today with a heavy heart. As you well know, today, one of the great moguls of free market industry, Mr. Donovyn Welland, has been found dead. Mr. Welland was the Chief Executive Officer of Lexicon Industries, which has, for years, employed millions on Imperial world. For this, we are forever grateful to Mr. Welland.

However, his death marks a true problem for the worlds of the Bastion Conclave. Lexicon Industries has fallen into chaos, and, should the current course of the markets continue, millions could be put out of work. As such, it is the duty of the Empire to announce the nationalization of Lexicon Industries and all her subsidiaries.

Lexicon will be stabilized using the full resources of the Bastion Conclave and the Empire, ensuring that employment for all of her workers will continue. The company will be allowed to continue semi-autonomous operation under the direction and control of the Regent. It truly pains –’”

Theren shut off the holonet feed, turning to Tornel, who sat, nodding quietly. “A job well done,” Tornel said. “You wrote the announcement yourself?”

“Yeah,” Theren acknowledged.

“So, what’s the next step?”

“We wait for Kellis and his diplomats to do their job. With the impediment of Lexicon removed, they should be considerably more receptive to the offer.”

“Yeah.”



Theren strode into the meeting without any entourage in tow, very much unlike the other gathered politicians, who all sported great groups of men standing behind them importantly. In some ways, Theren liked to think that he didn’t need an collection of useless aides to seem important. Only Lieutenant Tornel accompanied him into the grand foyer.

The vast floor on they stood was at the center of a large chamber, filled with detachable platforms for speakers. It was the senate chamber of the new Corulag; a place of corruption, and greed, where politicians were little more than puppets at the whim of the conniving bloodsuckers that free enterprise always seemed to attract. Before sitting down at the large table, Theren took a look around at the full chamber, eying the collected senators.

In time, they would learn their true place.

He took a seat, the murmuring of the politicians pervading the place. Theren unconsciously blocked them out, as he eyed the man directly across from him. Firet Antilles was the diplomat’s name, the elected (or, Theren reflected, purchased) Governor of Corulag. Behind Antilles, on one of the Republic-style mobile platforms, a senator pressed a button that emitted a loud whistling noise.

“The Speaker of the House calls this gathering of the Corulag Senate to order,” he said, looking down at the group gathered around the table at the center of the chamber. Only Theren and Antilles sat at the table, though somewhere between six and eight of the aforementioned aides had taken their places behind the latter. “Governor Firet Antilles has called this gathering to formally address the issue of Imperial occupation.”

This was all just formality, for the most part. While this was the first meeting between Theren and the planetary officials, Cris Kellis and his clique of diplomats had taken care of the actual agreements. The gathered senators would vote, as expected, down party lines, and the movement would pass, after a short, public discussion between Antilles and Theren, the Governor of the Bastion Conclave.

Formality. Simple formality. “Governor Gevel of the Bastion Conclave and Empire, I wish to welcome you to Corulag. The senate understands that you bring with you a proposal from your Conclave and Regent.”

Theren nodded. “At one time, Corulag was the most Imperial of all Imperial worlds; a solemn pillar of justice and stability even in a galaxy embroiled in a war between the mighty Empire and the savage, capitalist terrorism of the rebellion,” he began. The slipping of the word ‘capitalism’ into the speech was wholly intentional. “Now, the Empire once again stands at the forefront of galactic affairs, as the unchallenged master of the galaxy upon the threshold of utter dominance. I, both as the Governor of the Bastion Conclave and as a Commodore in the Imperial Navy, would like to invite your world to be a part of this grand future, and return to its rightful place as a beacon of moral fortitude.”

The speech was impressive, even to those expecting it. Theren, rather unlike other politicians, wrote his own material. As he once put it to Tornel, it just felt wrong to read someone else’s work. “I see,” Antilles replied. “I also understand that a number of representatives of the Bastion Conclave, including Lieutenant-Governor Cris Kellis of the Senex Confederacy, have met with Corulag officials. They have offered certain promises of semi-autonomy.”

“Yes,” Theren confirmed. “The Corulag Senate will not be dissolved. Sector police will be the Imperial military, and your world will be obliged to contribute to the armed forces. A small price – indeed, not a price, but a duty – in the face of the considerable advantages of Imperial rule.”

Antilles nodded, and smiled, slightly, the skin about his eyes wrinkling. He was about fifty, but lean and strong, with hair that had only begun to gray. “Then the Senate has heard your proposal. I motion this be put to vote.”

“Motion seconded,” came a voice from among the platforms.

“Then it shall be,” the Speaker of the house said. But it was all just formality; they’d all heard the proposal before, all met with Kellis, and all knew how they would vote. It was a proceeding. It was simple.

What happened next came rapidly. In a way, Theren later reflected, he should have seen such an event coming; what had begun as a simple expansion order had escalated into assassination and nationalization, and political maneuvering. Nothing about it had been simple. So it would continue to be.

From over Theren’s shoulder, a red blaster bolt flew forth, striking Firet Antilles squarely in the chest. Theren dropped off his chair, hitting the ground, and felt Tornel do the same. Before even a whole second had passed. his aide reached for the blaster he carried at his belt, firing several times. Tornel, born into wealth, had received many lessons on the use of firearms even previous to his enrollment in Imperial academy. The blasts lanced out, one hitting the assassin’s shoulder. Blood sprayed the wall, yet the assailant sprinted away and out the floor entrance to the chamber, clutching his shoulder.

“Guards!” Shouted one of Antilles’ aides into his commlink, but received only static in return. Clearly, the guards who had been manning the entranceway were dead, and the assassin left free to escape. Theren glanced at Tornel, gesturing towards the entrance.

Quickly, both of them took off, in a full sprint, rounding the corner. A few paces later, Theren stopped dead and stared at what he found. “Kieryn!” Yelled Tornel, his eyes wide. “What – how –?”

On the ground in front of the panting, smiling woman, lay the unconscious form – or corpse, Theren couldn’t tell – of the assassin. He was dressed mostly in black, and wore a mask of the same color. Theren bent over the man, putting his fingers to his throat. “Fuck. He’s dead,” he muttered, but the other two weren’t listening.

“How the hell did you get off the Zenith? Why the hell did you get off the Zenith!?” Tornel was shouting, at a still-smiling Kieryn.

“I saw it,” she said breathlessly. “I saw this happen, before it did. I knew I had to stop him.”

Tornel shook his head, and looked down at his commander. “He’s Lexicon,” said Theren.

“What?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where he came from, or who ordered him here, but he’s definitely Lexicon. A corporate assassin.”

More men, security guards and politicians, were now running down the hall from the grand chamber towards them. Theren turned towards them slowly, taking a deep breath. Things had just gotten a lot more complicated.



The Zenith,
Corulag Orbit

Kieryn and Tornel sat in his quarters, in silence. Finally, Tornel said, “I never thanked you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Kieryn said. “I didn’t thank you, either.”

“For what?”

“For getting me out of that hellhole prison,” she replied. Her pleasure at being set free was obvious; the dark circles around her eyes were gone, her skin was less pale.

“I just did what I thought was right,” Tornel replied. Kieryn smiled a little, and looked down at her lap, for a little while.

“Your friend Theren. He got the planet, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did. The vote passed overwhelmingly.”

“Dayvid?”

“Yes?”

“Was that the only reason you helped me escape?”

Tornel thought a moment, smiled, and got up, heading for the door. “I have to go. Theren’s called a meeting.” The door slid open.

After a moment, Kieryn said, “Me too.”

“For what?” Tornel asked. But, he knew already. You had to watch your thoughts, around Kieryn. With her, nothing was simple.

Tornel smiled, and left.

Zenith
Corulag Orbit

Theren stared don at the world before him, the gray-and-blue orb turning calmly in space. The Zenith fleet was visible on the periphery of the viewports of the Reign-Class Star Destroyer of the same name, with smaller transport craft moving from the surface to these vessels, and vice versa. The death of Firet Antilles, despite what Theren’s conscience might have wished to the contrary, had been highly convenient for the Empire. The political power vacuum and panic following his assassination had been all but an invitation to replace the fledgling Corulag regime with one of their own, and Theren did so. Bolstering the Corulag security forces were the red-armored Legionnaires, whose presence on Corulag became a signal to all that the Empire had returned, and in full force.

Cris Kellis, who sat behind Theren staring out the same viewport, gave the expected report of the goings-on planetside. “There have been reports of four different anti-Imperial cells who feel that the assassination of Antilles was planned, and who are seeking retribution.”

Theren nodded. “I want them very publicly hunted down by Legionnaires – or Conclave Executors if you have to use them. Examples should be made of what becomes of those who are not loyal to the Empire.”

“Already on it,” Kellis replied. “We should have them by morning. Public trials and kangaroo courts, I expect?”

Tornel, who had entered unbeknownst to either of the men and had been flanking the Senex Sector Lieutenant-Governor in the darkness of the meeting chamber, stepped forward. “Could I make a suggestion?”

Both heads turned back, and Theren nodded. “Sure. Anything.”

“We should make some sort of connection between these cells and Lexicon, even if there is none,” Tornel suggested. “I’ve got a report here on the latest activities by Lexicon executives, and they’re not good.”

Now, he had Theren’s full attention. “Tell me.”

“It seems that several of the executives have outright disappeared from Corulag. Just taking off in the middle of the night and flying away,” Tornel said. “They’ve been resurfacing on Chandrila, and being given top-ranking positions in other corporations. It looks like some sort of a contingency plan.”

Kellis raised an eyebrow. “Chandrila?” He asked skeptically. “You don’t think they know –”

“I don’t think it,” Theren cut him off, “I know it. They knew what our next move was, because they still have a mole.”

Kellis pondered this for a moment. “But why? Why wouldn’t they relocate to some backwater world with no ties to Lexicon? They must know that we’ll hunt them down.”

Theren shrugged. “They think that they can stop us – halt our expansion by fostering the same anti-Imperialism on Chandrila as they did on Corulag. And when we go after them, they’ll make it look like some sort of anti-capitalism warmongering.”

“It’s not anti-capitalism warmongering?” Kellis asked incredulously. “I thought that was our business.”

Theren glared at him. Tornel quickly spoke up, asking, “Then, where do we go from here? What’s the next move?”

“Our first move,” Theren replied. “Is to eliminate that mole. Assemble an emergency meeting of the Conclave immediately, here, on this ship. I don’t give a fuck what the Lieutentant-Governors have to drop to make it.”

Kellis nodded, standing up. “I’ll call them now,” he said, and nodded to Tornel before leaving.

When the door shut, Tornel added, “I also have another intelligence report from Chandrila – something about a string of killings. Apparently they’ve been finding only bits and pieces of the victims –”

Theren stared at Tornel. “Why would I give a shit about that?”

Tornel shrugged, and chuckled uneasily. “Kieryn asked me to tell you. Said it was important.”

When Theren glared at him in reply, Tornel began to scurry from the room. “No, wait,” Theren said. “Didn’t you say that the girl has some sort of clairvoyance – some Force-related shit?”

Tornel nodded.

“Then I may have a job for her.”



“You may be wondering,” Theren said, “why I have called you here on such short notice, so soon after our last meeting. I’m sure most of you thought we wouldn’t be seeing each other again until after the conquests discussed at our last meeting were completed. Some of you may think we are here to elect Lieutenant-Governors for Corulag and Duro. All of you are wrong.”

The Lieutenant-Governors stood in a solemn line in the same dark meeting room aboard the Zenith, which Theren paced across restlessly. “You see, gentlemen, someone has been feeding Lexicon Industries classified details regarding the contents of our meetings. Those of you who have been doing this may remember the fate of our good friends Nivalos and Kaln. I regret to inform you that you will be meeting the same fate today.”

There were dark circles under Theren’s eyes, and more stubble than usual was apparent on his face, giving him a rather mad look. “I’m sick and fucking tired of this. Disloyalty ends here, today,” he continued. Pointing one hand behind him, he added, “This, my friends, is the lovely Kieryn. She can read your minds. If you’re lying, I’m going to shoot you. If she can’t tell, I might just do it anyway. Honesty is highly recommended. Enough bullshit.”

Kieryn stepped forward from the darkness, not a trace of uncertainty in her gait. From his belt Theren pulled a standard-issue Imperial blaster pistol, and pointed it at the head of the first man in line; the Lieutenant-Governor of Bastion. “Have you been passing information to Lexicon Industries?” Theren asked him, very clearly.

“No,” he said nervously, eying the blaster. Theren glanced back at Kieryn, who nodded.

“Good answer.” Theren moved to the next man; the Lieutenant-Governor of Kamino. “Have you been passing information to Lexicon Industries?”

“No, sir,” came the same answer, more confidently. Theren glanced back at Kieryn; she shook her head. Looking back at the man, he saw his confidence dissolve into fear. Theren fired, spraying blood on the wall of the room and killing him instantly.

“Wrong answer,” Theren said, emotionlessly. He moved to the next man in line; Cris Kellis. “Have you been passing information to Lexicon Industries?”

“Nope,” Kellis answered. Knowing he wasn’t lying, Theren went to the next man; the Lieutenant-Governor of Dantooine. He wasn’t lying, either, and neither was the Lieutenant-Governor of J’t’p’tan. Finally, came the representative of N’zoth, who quaked under the pressure, staring at the blaster pointed at his head.

Theren hadn’t even finished asking the magic question when the man exclaimed, “Yes! Yes, I did, I beg your apologies but –”

Theren fired, killing him, too.

“Perhaps I didn’t clarify this for you; honesty was suggested for my sake, not yours.”

Holstering the blaster, Theren stepped back. “Four traitors out of what began as a grand total of eight men. Disappointing, to say the least.”

Chandrila

Like swift and silent death, the figure moved slowly through the house. Behind the billowing drapes, across the wall, darkened by night, his passage utterly silent -- yet he moved with quickness that should have made more noise than a gunshot.

Finally, carefully, calculatedly, the figure pointed his finger at a wall across the hall, and a loud bump emenated from there. The sound of footsteps could be heard, and one of the hall's door's slammed open, a thin, gray-haired man stepping from it. "What the fuck --" he muttered to himself, looking cautiously up and down the hall.

Yet Xireon's form blended seamlessly into the shadows. Undetected, he slid down the hall, to within inches of the man. He was straight-backed, spry in his old age, and from the look of him -- the way he carried himself -- a man of some importance.

Yes, Xireon thought, he was a military commander of some minor repute on this world, though that was really of no consequence. He was strong of mind and body, and that was enough. A clawed, blue finger reached out and tapped the man on the shoulder, and he jumped. "Wha--?" Then his face blanched, as he stared into the glowing white eyes of Xireon Jiren.

"Hello," Xireon said pleasantly. A sickening zing sound filled the air, and into the space between Xireon's face and that of the man, a small, nondescript knife with a golden hilt was thrust. "This is a knife," he said, "and I'm going to kill you with it, if you don't tell me where the headquarters of Lexicon Industries are."

The man began to open his mouth, but the Sith cut him off. "And do not tell me that you don't know what I'm talking about. Nationalized or not, Lexicon owns you and your military."

And so, the man told him in nervous, clipped sentences. When he was done, Xireon nodded slowly. He put the knife away, and the man breathed a sigh of relief. And then he burst into golden, impossibly hot flames. After a moment of frantic screaming, the man was nothing more than a pile of ashes.

Xireon's form swam as if submerged in water. His skin began to alter itself, changing in waves as if a virus were creeping across his skin. In seconds, he was the precise likeness of the dead man. It was an ancient form of necromantic spell; by killing a man, a link can be formed between the life force of killer and the victim, and thus the Sith can assume the bodily form of the dead.

Xireon smiled. All was falling into place. Only a few more days.

“We’ve been leaking falsified and real information about links between the defunct resistance cells and Lexicon,” Tornel said. “Corulag Holonet channels have been broadcasting it constantly for two days. There’s no one left on Corulag who hasn’t heard at least one news anchor vilify Lexicon Industries.”

Theren nodded. “Good, good,” he said, seemingly distracted. His eyes wandered out the viewport of his quarters on the Zenith, into the space beyond, and across the planet in question itself.

“Is something wrong?”

Theren looked back to Tornel, for a moment. “Lexicon has been making press releases of its own,” he said shortly, prompting Tornel to give him a quizzical look. The commodore thought for another moment, and fixed his aide with another intense gaze. “What did Kieryn say about those murders? The ones on Chandrila, I mean. She told you to tell me about them. Why?”

Tornel shrugged. “I don’t know. She just told me to tell you, that’s all; no explanation. She never gives me explanations.”

Theren looked at him for a moment more, then out the viewport again, seemingly satisfied with the response. “Chandrilan news agencies have been connecting the Imperial force on Corulag to the murders. One of their ranking military officials – Teliman Jelani – disappeared yesterday, under mysterious circumstances.”

“Mysterious circumstances?”

“Yeah,” Theren replied uneasily. “Apparently, the only suspicious thing they found in his home were ashes. They can’t be linked biologically to Jelani, but it doesn’t take a great stretch of the imagination to figure out what they’re maintaining happened. They’re saying that the cremation was a poor attempt to cover up a governmentally funded assassination.”

“You should send them a press release saying that if we were going to assassinate a Chandrilan military official, we’d probably be smarter than to leave a bloody pile of ashes sitting in the damned hallway. No one ever connected us to the deaths on Kamino, did they?” Tornel chuckled, and started to get up, before he noticed that Theren was once again staring at him.

“I never said they were in a pile,” Theren said quietly. “Sit down.”

“I just assumed –”

“Sit down,” Theren said again, and the tone of his voice this time denoted that it had become an order, instead of a suggestion. “What do you know?”

“I just –” Tornel stopped, and sighed. “Kieryn’s been telling me more about the murders. She can sense… things, about them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to involve her any further in this. The first time she was involved in an Imperial operation, she became the sex slave of a Dark Jedi Master, Theren. I just… didn’t want to involve her.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

Theren didn’t reply, for a moment. “What has she been telling you?”



“Kieryn?” Lieutenant Dayvid Tornel said, stepping into the dark quarters and immediately ordering the lights to activate themselves. The room was dirty, with clothing and piles of datacards scattered throughout it. But Kieryn was nowhere to be found.

The young woman had taken to staying in Tornel’s quarters, and at no small cost to his reputation. More than one officer had seen the beautiful woman entering and emerging from his quarters, and assumed what anyone in their position would assume. The rumors ranged from her being the daughter of a rich aristocrat on Muunilist, that he was courting to advance his career, to her being a thousand-credit-a-day call girl from Coruscant. Neither one was particularly flattering, but Tornel did his best not to pay attention to them.

They weren’t true, of course. Tornel, as he’d vowed, had had nothing to do with any of Kieryn’s sexual advances. She’d been mentally abused in ways that most couldn’t imagine, and this had left her vulnerable; she’d idolized him as her savior, her hero figure. But despite her often-overt propositions, it had always felt wrong. Slowly, things had begun to change between them; their relationship was moving from one of doctor-and-patient to man-and-woman, on equal footing. Certainly, he respected her, and recognized that she was a strong person – perhaps more so than him. But it still felt wrong.

Tornel sat down at the main room’s table, ordering the room’s illumination to dim slightly. On the uniform transparisteel piece of furniture sat an equally uniform Holonet terminal, which had turned itself on upon his entrance. Amongst a blue haze, it displayed a few words in white text; You have one new priority message.

There were only a few people on his priority list; the first was, of course, Theren. But as he was only a commlink call away on the Zenith, it was safe to say it wasn’t him. The rest were all old friends from Muunilist, and his family. Tornel could only assume it was the latter.

While he’d always engendered the respect his birth ensured in upper-class military and business circles, that respect had lessened, of late. His public attachment to Theren Gevel, which had gone as far as issuing statements to the press on his behalf, had certainly caused many of those who he had once considered friends, or at least friends of the family, to sever ties with him. In aristocratic circles – where wealth and privilege ran in a bloodline – Theren was not respected, or even tolerated. He was worse than an up-and-coming commander or nouveau riche who sought their approval – he was an up-and-coming commander who didn’t even acknowledge their existence.

Theren was born poor, and in their minds, he would die poor. Yet he refused to make the friends in High Command that would earn him the respect that most commanders desired; the respect which would result in his promotion. He’d aligned himself with a dangerously fringe section of the military, with such men as Vice-Admiral Vikar, who himself was a similar outcast. Only those with access to the upper ranks of command could afford to shunt the aristocracy so flagrantly and still retain respect, and Theren didn’t have that access: he had gotten into the military at the ground floor, and gained power through political means, not by promotion. It was as if he’d gained prominence more quickly than Imperial Command was prepared to grant it.

And Tornel, the son of a family of wealthy businessmen and respected members of the military, found himself, for the first time in his life, utterly without the contact, guidance and insight of that rich upper crust. With a wry smile, he reflected that he now found himself in the position Theren had been in all of his life.

He hesitated before hitting the activation button on the Holonet terminal. Messages from his parents, these days, were typically not good. Either they contained desperate pleas to abandon his assignment to Theren Gevel and offers of positions in High Command, or degrading repetitions of rumors that had found their way over to them. Today, it was the latter.

The message requested her to contact him, and, after a moment of readying himself, he did so. His mother’s name was Adelfia, and she had once been a very beautiful woman. But then old age and the complacent lifestyle of the rich had set in, and she had begun to look more and more like a grandmother – and Colonel Tornel, as he preferred to be called (though he’d quit the Navy almost fifteen years before), had been robbed of his trophy wife. It had never been a secret to Tornel that his father had taken many mistresses over the years, but his mother seemed utterly clueless.

“Hello, mother,” he said as her face appeared.

“Oh, good, Dayvid, I’ve been wanting to speak to you – you got my message? Good, good. I must say, I’ve been hearing some disturbing things, of late, and I’m beginning to wonder if the career path you’ve set out on is truly wise –” Tornel knew that she wasn’t in any way ‘beginning’ to doubt his career choices. She’d been doing so since he’d accepted the assignment as Theren’s aide, and had begun actively voicing these objections not long after.

He didn’t listen to the rest of what she said. But when it occurred vaguely to him that she was finished speaking, he spoke up. “Mother, Commodore Gevel does what he does very well. The Colonel always wanted me to serve the Empire as best I could, and that’s what I’m doing. You know what Theren has done for the Empire. Everyone does. I’m making more of a difference than I would be sitting in some office at High Command.” He said all this with a supreme lethargy, because it was a rehearsed line. He’d said it countless times, and knew it fell on deaf ears.

“Dayvid, you simply must give up this tired charade. You cannot possibly be happy working for that wretched man – I saw him on the Holonet the other day, what a filthy mouth he has! That certainly is no way for a representative of the Empire to speak, especially in public. An unshaven, filthy mongrel –”

Tornel rested his chin on his hands glumly, as he endured the tirade. “Mother, what does it matter what language he uses? Really, what does it matter to anyone? People aren’t made commodores for being well-mannered.”

“Well, perhaps they should be!” She retorted. “Your brothers have done so well – Zenin is a Commander in the Starfighter Corps, and Charles is in High Command. People always speak so highly of them. But the things I’ve been hearing about you…” She sighed. “Your father is so disappointed, he expected so much of you. But people have started to say things, Dayvid, and he doesn’t know what to think anymore.”

“The Colonel couldn’t give a shit about me or my career, except how it reflects on him, and we both know it.”

Adelfia looked taken-aback. “And now you’re talking like him, too! Dayvid, your father has gotten a very prestigious aide position, with Admiral Kroth, in High Command – if you would just take it…”

“I’ve met Kroth. He’s a prick.” The horrified look returned to his mother’s face.

“Dayvid, I’m beginning to wonder about you! All the things people have been saying – and you won’t even take a position in High Command –”

“Yes, what have people been saying, mother?” Tornel spat.

His mother’s eyes flared. “For one, they have been saying that you’ve been seen running around, sleeping with some whore from Coruscant – they’re saying that High Command has stopped sizing you up for promotion because of it, and they’re – it’s not true, is it?”

“Kieryn is a friend – I rescued her from a Dark Jedi in the Senex Sector. She was captured and abused by him, and I’m helping her to recover.”

Adelfia gaped. “But – how unbecoming! Isn’t there some sort of doctor who can help her? Really, why is it your responsibility – god knows you must have better things to do! Is she – from a dignified family, at least?”

“No, she’s from a middle-class family on Belsavis.”

“Honestly!” Adelfia exclaimed. “Some poor slob from the slums of a backwater world –”

Tornel glared at her, and remained silent for a moment. Finally, he decided to change tactics. “And yes, mother, we’ve been sleeping together, too, and running all up and down this god damn ship, because I want every Grand Admiral’s son on board to see us together, so that I’ll never be promoted – and I’ll tell you something else, I’m glad she’s from a Belsavian family that’s poor as bloody dirt. I wouldn’t have it any other way –” He heard a door close behind him, from the bedroom. “– because the last thing I want is to end up as a couple of aristocratic fat-cats having children to increase our prestige. And when we get married, we’ll have a big @#%$ wedding right in the middle of Imperial-fucking-Square, with a @#%$ honor guard, and I’ll proclaim to the galaxy that we’re going to go live on the slums of a backwater world!”

Tornel slammed the disengage key, and his mother’s horrified face disappeared. He was now conscious of the footsteps in the room. Kieryn, clad only in a nightgown, appeared beside him, and sat down at the table. “Having a pleasant conversation with dear old mother, I see,” she said. He knew that she had instantly read all of his thoughts. “That was nice of you, to defend me. But I see that I’m becoming rather known, in those upper-class circles.”

“Yeah,” Tornel said disgustedly.

“I can go, if you want,” she said, and he could tell she was earnest.

“No, of course not,” he said. “And make as much noise when you leave these quarters, from now on. Make sure every @#%$ person on this ship knows that you’re here.”

She smiled at him, but he shook his head.

“Before you get all sentimental, I have bad news.”

“Your friend Theren wants to see me,” she said, and added, “about the murders on Chandrila.”

“Yeah. I tried to keep it to myself, but –”

“Your tongue slipped.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said, and shrugged uneasily.

“Don’t be sorry. I wanted you to tell him, remember?”

“Yeah.”



Theren swiveled the chair around, turning to face Kieryn at last. He’d listened to the entirety of the story without looking at her once. “You’re sure it’s him?” He asked.

“Absolutely,” she replied. “I’ve been having very vivid dreams of these murders, and I know that they’re not an coincidence. I saw Jelani murdered, and I could see who did it. It was Xireon Jiren, I assure you.”

Theren held a hard copy of the most recent Imperial Intelligence profile on Xireon Jiren in his hands. “What did he look like?” He asked, seeking to trick her. For many years, it had been readily apparent that Xireon Jiren was created in the exact likeness of Gash Jiren, particularly during the period where he had assisted Thrawn in his invasion of Ossus. A fairly well known figure, who had disappeared in recent years. “Tanned skin, long white hair?”

“No, that’s not what he looks like anymore,” she said. “He’s… changed. Mutated, I don’t know. But his skin is… blue. Monstrous. He has claws –”

Theren held up a hand. “That’s enough. I believe you, and I know what he looks like. We have operatives inside several of these religious groups, one of them being this ‘Dark Circle’. Even the Sith, it seems, need to hire help from the rest of us from time to time. What I need to know is what he’s doing there. What does he want?”

Kieryn cleared her throat. “Me.”

“Excuse me?”

“He wants me,” she said again, enunciating the words as if he’d honestly not heard her. “He wants to know how Karrix Moraei imparted the power of the Force to me.”

“Do you know how he did it?” Theren asked offhandedly.

“Not a clue.”

Theren nodded. “Thank you, Kieryn. I owe you quite a number of debts,” he said, with surprising sincerity.

“You’re welcome.”

“If you’d leave us?”

She nodded, got up, smiled to Tornel, and left. “Jiren can be useful to us,” Theren said.

“I’d be careful,” Tornel cautioned. “We’re dealing with a dangerous breed, here. You know what he’s done, and if this is any indication, his heart hasn’t softened. He’s a cold-blooded killer, and one we have no way of dealing with.”

“Sure, we do,” Theren replied. “He wants something that we have. I want something he can provide me. If Sith are as reasonable men as any others, we should be able to work something out.”

Tornel raised an eyebrow. “What can he give us?”

“The heads of everyone who works in the Chandrilan government.”

Tornel’s eyes widened in comprehension. “I see. I can issue the order for a pair of Conclave Executors –”

“No,” Theren said, shaking his head. “I’ll go myself.”

“Sir, with all due respect, Jiren could kill you in a second and we would have no way of stopping him – and I doubt that he would think twice about doing it.”

Theren smirked. “If I were him, I’d be fucking flattered to be meeting the Governor of the Bastion Conclave. I think he’s less likely to kill me than he would be a pair of mindless drones. Now, if there are no further objections,” he said sarcastically, “ready a shuttle. Get a transponder ID that’ll pass Chandrilan inspection.”

He got up and headed for the door, but Tornel suddenly grabbed his arm, stopping him. “I won’t let you give them Kieryn.”

Theren locked eyes with his aide. “Do you really think that little of me?”

Tornel immediately regretted his words and let Theren go, his eyes finding the floor.

Chandrila

Once again, the form moved through the room without sound and with scarcely a visible movement, like just another shadow against the wall. He could sense another being in the room, but the man seemed alert – ready for his presence. He must have made some sort of sound, waking him and setting him on edge. It didn’t matter. Instantly, he morphed himself into the form of the slain Jelani; if absolutely necessary, he could simply pretend to be the disappeared commander, lost and disoriented after some sort of ordeal.

Certainly, he could kill the man – and most likely any police forces that he could call. Indeed, he could probably defeat a good portion of the Chandrila army before being downed, and if all else failed he could split atoms with an Abyssal Fire spell and leave most of the planet in ruins. But a destroyed planet was not his objective, here –

Xireon’s thoughts were cut short, as the lights in the room were flicked on. Before him, a small chair swiveled around, revealing a young, thin man dressed in an Imperial uniform sitting calmly in it. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see the disappeared military official standing in his bedroom. Xireon attempted to read his thoughts, but found his mind strangely impervious to him.

The man smiled, slightly, and Xireon recognized him through the conventional means as Theren Gevel.

Chandrila

“Hello, Mr. Jelani,” Theren said coolly, allowing himself to enjoy the Sith’s confusion only slightly. “Or should I say Mr. Jiren?” The confusion on the man’s face escalated, but was soon replaced by resigned comprehension.

A split-second later, the man before him began to change. His bones seemed to shift and re-align within his body, his skin seemed to crawl and change in shade from white to blue as if a virus were spreading across him. In seconds, the man before him was not longer a man at all, but some sort of monster. The Intelligence photograph had not captured the appearance of Xireon Jiren in its full disgusting authenticity.

His form was thin, impossibly so. His stomach was sunken as if he’d been starved for a thousand years, his ribs visible through his skin, under the tattered remnants of his clothing, which had torn when he’d grown several inches. This, in addition to the claws, the glowing white eyes, and the blue skin, did indeed give Xireon Jiren the appearance of a monster. Theren didn’t allow himself to be phased by this. “I believe you know who I am.”

“Yes, I do,” Xireon said softly. The intelligence photograph had shown him with a collar pulled up over his mouth; clearly, the was something about that he normally attempted to hide. Now, though, he was in the unbefitting clothes of Jelani. “Theren Gevel. I’d thought that it would be Kieryn to seek me out, not yourself.”

“She’s not as stupid as you seem to think. And she’s had enough of Sith fucking with her head.”

Xireon sneered. “Karrix Moraei was a Dark Jedi. If you wish to live, I suggest you make the distinction.

Theren didn’t appear to be phased. “Xireon, we both require something from one another. You want to know how Kieryn came to use the Force. I want something, which only you can provide. I understand that you’ve been seeking out the headquarters of the remnants of Lexicon Industries – to get my attention, I assume?”

Xireon sneered again. “The more my actions pertained to Kieryn’s life, the more strongly the connections would come through.”

“Fair enough. Nonetheless, I need something from you, and I am prepared to pay your price for it.”

“What is it that you want?” Xireon’s hoarse voice rasped.

“I want you to bring me the heads of the members of the Chandrilan government, and the Lexicon Corporation. I have a list, for you.”

“And in return, you’ll give me the girl?”

Theren waved a hand dismissively. “She doesn’t know how it happened.”

“Her memories would help me to know.”

Theren shrugged. “Either way, you’re not getting her. I am, however, prepared to hand over Moraei’s diaries – which contain several logs about Kieryn’s enslavement which make very little sense to me, but which might help you.”

Xireon’s eyes narrowed. “You tread a thin line, Gevel. I could kill you in a heartbeat.”

“What would that accomplish?”

“I torture you until you gave her to me.”

“What would that do besides infuriate me?”

Xireon glowered. “Why do you want them killed, to begin with? Why not simply use the tactics you employed on Corulag, including that ever-so-convenient assassination?”

Theren shrugged. “You know as well as I do that the Chandrilan government has been corrupted by Lexicon and her satellite corporations. They’ve vilified the Empire, and there’s not a fucking thing I or anyone can do about it but eliminate them. This can only come down to conflict.”

Xireon hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “As you wish, then. I will do as you say. But if you don’t give me what I’ve asked for…”

“You’ll get what you wanted,” Theren assured him, holding out a datacard containing a list of targets. “The attack will begin exactly a day and a half from now. As soon as you hear of it, I expect these assassinations to begin.”

Xireon turned to leave, then looked back momentarily. “Why can’t I read your thoughts?”

Theren smiled. “Kieryn, it seems, is much more adept with the Force than you think. She performed some sort of countermeasure on me, before I departed.”

Xireon sneered again, and stalked out of the room.



The Zenith
Chandrila System

Hyperspace dissolved into realspace before Theren. He stood stiffly aboard his flagship’s bridge, observing the goings-on of his crew. “Scan the system, search for Battle Group Beta,” Theren ordered.

All battles commanded by Theren Gevel were a study in divided forces and flanking tactics. Almost uniformly, he divided his force into two. Having studied under Vice-Admiral Vikar, who fought with Thrawn during the Grand Admiral’s time with the Empire, and not against it, he’d learned to use Interdictors to his advantage, exacting micro-jumps through the system to instantly bring large numbers of forces were once there were none.

Because his fighting style had been observed by some anti-Imperial factions, some anticipated this, and immediately assaulted the second group instead of the primary one. Nonetheless, Theren always prepared for this eventuality; and for the enemy to do so often left them at more of a disadvantage than they otherwise would have been placed at. Today, however, the meager Chandrilan forces chose to assault the Alpha force directly.

“Battle Group Beta has arrived near the outlying edge of the system, and enemy vessels are inbound,” the sensors officer replied. “The enemy forces attacking us directly appear to be one Star Destroyer, two corvettes, and several support craft.”

Theren nodded. It wasn’t much of a match. “Then inform the captains that I don’t want any sloppiness. I want zero casualties. Engineering, maximum speed for all craft, non-synchronistic.” At this, the engines of the Zenith audibly wailed as she zipped forward at full speed. Other vessels were left behind, but they would catch up; it was more important to engage close to Chandrila than to engage as a united front, in this case.

In the distance, the enemy vessels became visible. The Chandrilan navy was truly a joke; little more than a large task force, certainly not a flotilla and definitely not a fleet. “Order the Vigilance to slow to eight percent maximum speed, begin to raise her Interdictor fields, and make a turn relative east, thirty one degrees from present course,” Theren ordered. The Vigilance was an Interdictor-class Immobilizer. On the tactical screen, a red-and-green holographic display to his right, one of the green dots deviated from the pack. In Battle Group Alpha was one Imperial Star Destroyer, the Zenith itself, as well as a variety of smaller craft, a little more than a half-dozen in all, mostly Corona-class Cruisers. Small, agile, but heavily armed, Theren found the craft to be almost more useful than Star Destroyers.

On the tactical map, the red and green dots had closed to a few klicks; almost at engagement distance. “Thirty seconds to range,” the sensors officer announced. Theren nodded. The Vigilance, having corrected its course minutes ago, was now a significant distance from the rest of Battle Group Alpha.

“Deploy fighters,” Theren said.

“Range!” Announced the sensors officer only seconds later.

“Fire at will,” Theren ordered, and a barrage of green turbolaser fire volleyed forth, splashing on the enemy Star Destroyer’s shields. The sheer volume of fire would certainly have been enough to accomplish victory with only minor losses, but Theren had decided to accept only a flawless victory. Soon, the enemy vessels were very large in the viewports of the Zenith. “Order the Vigilance to right her course parallel to our own, and stay out of range of the enemy vessels.”

“Continue forward at one-tenth full velocity. Order the Scimitar bombers to exact strafing runs on the Star Destroyer. Have the Stardust adjust course relative down nine degrees, west eighteen degrees, and rotate to expose only the port side to fire,” Theren continued. “Have them concentrate fire on the corvette closest to them.” The Imperial Star Destroyer emerged from below the Zenith, moving down and to the left across the field of battle.

“Now, have the Vigilance move into range, and cut in sharply and move at one-hundred percent velocity. Relay her coordinates every three seconds to Battle Group Beta, and have her raise the Interdiction fields on my mark.” To the right, through the Zenith’s viewport, the dagger-shaped vessel could be seen exacting a sharp turn towards the cluster of enemy vessels. A commlink audibly crackled as an explosion began to rupture the enemy corvette to the Imperial crafts’ left.

The Vigilance was now in range of the Chandrilan craft, and had begun to draw fire. The distracted vessels proved easier targets, but Theren could see the Interdictor’s blue shield’s struggling nonetheless as green turbolaser fire splashed across them. “Mark!” Theren said suddenly. Seconds later, as the sensors officer reported the Vigilance’s gravity wells raised, Theren ordered, “Have Battle Group Beta jump to her coordinates.”

After a tense moment, another Imperial Star Destroyer, accompanied by two Corona-Class frigates, appeared around the Vigilance. The perfectly executed micro-jump had put the Imperial vessels incredibly close to the enemy forces, which now faced an assault from both sides. The enemy Star Destroyer’s shields could be seen visibly weakening, shrinking and becoming more and more transparent when they sprang forth to defend against a volley of fire.

“All ships, full fire,” Theren said. The Stardust was now past the enemy line, her odd angle having afforded her little damage taken. An Imperial Star Destroyer’s sidelong profile was a much less enticing target than she was head on or from above and below. The corvette it had been targeting exploded brilliantly, shedding debris and atmosphere across the battlefield. The husks of dead Chandrilan TIE Fighters could also be seen as silhouettes against the backdrop of the enemy Star Destroyer.

As the other enemy corvette began to detonate, and the sensors officer reported the failure of the Star Destroyer’s shields, Theren nodded. “Open a channel. Wide broadcast, make sure that everyone on Chandrila can hear us.”

“This is Commodore and Governor Theren Gevel of the Galactic Empire. I come here on behalf of the Regent as a liberating force, to once again bring justice and peace to Chandrila. People of Chandrila, your government has been harboring known fugitives, defectors from the Empire and former members of Lexicon Industries. It has become a puppet to these capitalist whores, these pro-Republic servants of evil.” Theren spat the words with venom. “The military of your corrupt and useless government has been crushed like a bug under the might of the Empire, and so too have the figureheads of this twisted regime. I call upon you not to fear Imperial rule, but to embrace it, as your brothers on Corulag have; to revel in the freedom we bring with us. Gevel out.”

Tornel, who, until now, had been silent, spoke up. “You love giving those speeches, don’t you?”

Theren smirked. “It never gets old.”

Chandrila
Capitol Building

“Yes, they’ve been taken care of. Every last one of them,” Xireon Jiren said to Theren Gevel and Dayvid Tornel, now dressed once again in his customary tattered rags and collar wrapped about his lower face. “And I expect my reward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Theren said, reaching into his desk and pulling forth a stack of tattered papers. “The complete diaries of Karrix Moraei. I trust you’ll put them to good use.”

Xireon’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I will.”

Theren nodded. “Then our business is concluded. I can provide you with transportation back to Khar Delba, if you want,” he added.

Xireon’s eyes narrowed even more, and began to glow menacingly. “How do you know where the Dark Circle –” He began, but caught himself, and stopped. “I will be watching my servants very carefully, Theren Gevel. When I find your spy, I will return him to you in a thimble.”

Theren smiled contentedly. “Well, I look forward to hearing from you, then.”

Xireon turned, and began to stalk from the room. “And it has been… interesting, to meet you, Kieryn.”

Theren and Tornel glanced at one another, then to the spot in the corner where Xireon’s eyes lay. “What the fuck are you –” Theren began. But then he stopped, looking back at the corner of the room again. There, stood Kieryn, who had evidently kept her presence hidden, but not from Xireon.

“Charmed,” Kieryn replied coolly. To their surprise, Xireon bowed deeply, then walked from the room. Theren supposed that he thought they didn’t notice, but Tornel’s eyes followed him as he did so, filled with what the commodore recognized as a jealous rage.