Trachta stood there quietly as he watched the situation play between Gevel and the officer Trachta had bullied into taking him here. He was interested in how Gevel dealt with the situation as well as Trachta's presence. Then Gevel turned his attention to Trachta after getting rid of the officer with a slightly more merciful punishment than what Trachta had threatened the officer with if he hadn't taken him to Gevel in the first place.

“And you,” Gevel said, glaring up at Trachta. “Whatever weight you may think you have because of your allegiance to the Imperial Security Bureau means nothing here, and I don’t appreciate you man-handling my officers.” Gevel rubbed his hands over his face, whispering ‘@#%$’ under his breath. “This is getting more complicated, and I didn’t want anyone else involved. But, you’re here; you might as well sit in.”

Gevel then gestured to the man next to him. “This is Commander Drif. You’ve heard of him, I assume. Our guest will be here in a moment; listen, and don’t speak.”

Trachta looked over at this wouldbe defector, Commander Drif. It did look like the man had been through a lot which comfirmed the report Trachta read on Mechis III. The man had a look of determination on his face which made sense if this man was one of Drayon's much more loyal officers. Gevel had made it clear from the way he addressed the newly arrived ISB officer that his power was nothing here. Trachta, though, would not have his authority waver to another Commodore of the New Order when it involved the security of the Empire.

"You shouldn't fret over the arrival of any others. I believe only the Bureau has the authority to dispatch an officer to monitor this situation. Either way, I am, as I said, only here to observe unless I see otherwise, in which case I will speak and you can't do a damn thing about it, Commodore Gevel. I may hold no sway over you but don't think I can't make your life more complicated than it probably already is," Trachta said as he looked at Gevel.

"Either way you are stuck with me and the involvement of the ISB until this affair is dealt with fully, no matter what direction it goes in. So don't think you'll be getting rid of me after this meeting. I intend on seeing this whole thing through to ensure the safety and success of the New Order."

Trachta then stepped aside before Gevel could come up with a retort. Bhindi Drayson would be here soon and he now had the right vantage point to not only read Drayson's face but also that of Commander Drif. As far as Gevel went, Trachta wouldn't bother since the man's files in the ISB had him marked as decently loyal though insubordinate at times. Now it was only a matter of minutes before things would start to unfold. Trachta wondered how this would all play out.

Imperial City, Coruscant
Command and Control Complex
Office of the Chief of the General Staff


Hmm, he pursed his lips, tunic undone and pistol removed, seated before his textual processor. Around the sun was setting, its radiance blocked by shaded transparisteel: that is, however, the slight portion which could cut passed the tall spires of the massive towers which surrounded the Imperial Palace. There it sat, nestled amongst them dwarfed by their size only in height, for the singular structure stretched endlessly on hundreds of levels tall and so many more sections across.


The man’s brow furrowed as phrase after phrase scittered past his mind’s eye, the words constantly rearranging themselves hoping to be noticed and chosen. A chosen few grew larger in scope, but were tossed aside with the rest. It would give me great honour…no….I appreciate your kindness in this matter….too formal….Hyfe, get me the frell out of here…too colloquial.


Nothing seemed to please the troubled officer as he continually typed in line after line of text only to delete them just the same. Growling in a most unaristocratic manner, Admiral Desaria slowly allowed his hand to wander away from the entrypad and grasp a jade-tinted glass holding a dark liquid within. The almost clumsly manner at which his arm laboured to bring the drink to his thin lips might appear to an onlooker as if the Chief of the General Staff was intoxicated.


Such an assumption would be wrong. He merely had not slept in two days.


*mmmmmm*


The soft humm of the Admiral’s door chime reverberated through his spacious corner office eliciting quite a strong string of oaths out Desaria as he stood in anger. Great force sat behind a strong arm which slammed a comlink built into the polished obsidian desk top. “ What?”


“ Sir, the Grand Inquisitor has arrived. He requests an audience.”


Desaria scowled and barked,” give me five minutes.” Brusquely he cut off his annoyingly feminine male civilian secretary and began to do up his tunic. As he replaced his pistol into his belt-mounted holster a flash of inspiration brought a smile to his face. Without snapping shut the weapon’s leather home he plopped down into is seat.


From the Chief of the Imperial General Staff

To the Regent of the Empire
Daemon Hyfe, Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy

Daemon,

When I was wounded during the Battle of Bastion, you were very kind in sending me to the rear only after the action was decided. In assuring me I would not be discharged from the service due to my wounds, you fulfilled your obligation to me as a friend. By posting me to the General Staff you ensured that my career would not die and I am grateful. Now I ask of you another service this time not as an officer who is your friend, but as your friend who is an officer.

My tenure as Chief of the Imperial General Staff has been a great learning experience and gave me the strategic insight I lacked. With this knowledge I wish to return to the lines and command a unit in combat once more. My wounds have healed I assure you, and there are no doctors remaining on Coruscant who say otherwise.

If necessary, I will place myself before an official Review Board to test my stamina and physical strength. I guarantee you my vitality has returned and am willing to prove it.

I thank you again, not in advance, but for all that was and still is.

(signed)
Baron Telan Desaria


The Admiral inserted one of his code cylinders and away the message flew through the datastreams of the Imperial Palace. Shortly thereafter when the last of the alcohol had been gastrointestinally removed, the Viscount Ierin del Forza entered with all of his typical pomposity and grandeur.

“ That is quite an entrance you have there, del Forza. Were I not already finished with my memo I would have you thrown into the street with the assurance you would land on your arse.”


An ominous chortle found its way from the depths of the Imperial Grand Inquisitor’s throat, the very prospect of exuding laughter in any form doubtless causing a great vacuum in his bowels. If such was so he did not show it, rather keeping something of an arrogantly knowing smile on his face.


“ To the point, Baron Desaria, as usual. No doubt the result of your desk-bound tenure.”


“ If I remember the last time we met, I was not behind a desk and your minions were not idle, though I expected no less. The fingers of the Inquisitoriate can be found in every Imperial cookie jar.”


“ Many that are not, too.” The Corellian chortled again and moved to a chair set up opposite one of the most senior-ranking officers in all the Empire. From within his double-breasted crimson tunic he drew a pair of deftly-rolled Ravannah cigars, the absolute favorite of aristocrats galaxy-wide. After he had lit his own with a simultaneously produced igniter he offered the remaining one to his noble peer.


Desaria snarled imperceptibly to all but himself, though the scorn he felt for the Inquisitoriate as a whole was nothing less than renowned. Many an excellent officer had found himself reassigned to an Outer Rim listening post or simply executed for having the slightest misgivings of his on orders. The hope Desaria nurtured that when the Imperial Security Bureau and COMPNOR were all unified under the Grand Inquisitor and his department that such actions would cease quickly died: they did, in fact, increase. One of the many outstanding men removed from active service was Colonel Kyle Kamorn, Commander of the 3375th Imperial Army Regiment and close friend to the Chief of the General Staff. For questioning an order to assault a position that would yield at least half his men as casualties he found himself reduced in rank one day and accidentally deceased the next.


Despite his better thoughts, Desaria took the cigarra and used his own silver igniter to bring the cylinder to life. Its soothing aroma rapidly filled the room and slithered its way under the office’s double doors. In his mind, the Admiral could already hear his secretary gesturing wildly into the air in silent objection to the acquired smell.


“ I doubt you brought yourself to High Command to share with me a rare stock,” the Kuati gentleman stated, taking a puff of his gift and holding in suggestion.


“ Are you intimating I have an ulterior motive than simple socializing with an officer of the Imperial Navy?” The Grand Inquisitor put on an exquisite display of sounding indignant.


The Admiral’s face lost all emotion, negative or otherwise. “ Yes.”


Del Forza slapped a leg of his black breeches and smiled again. “ You are far too clever for me, Telan.”


“ We are on a first name basis now?”


The Inquisitor ignored the question and continued his mischievously evil game of taunting a man who loathed him. Trading off the smoking device from one hand to another he produced a folded flimsiplast which he skidded across the obsidian desk.


The Admiral unfolded it with both hands, placing his own in a near by ash tray.


“ A brief cover letter sent to High Command this morning from Grand Marschall Kaine. It would seem the Demosthesians are up to no good.”


It was the Baron’s turn to ignore the other and instead read over the synopsis. A series of four primary bland but important goals was laid out before him in no uncertain terms. That he had even been notified was odd as General Kaine – Desaria had never broken the habit of addressing his friend with his Army title – was the highest-ranking Imperial Officer next to the Regent himself. Any orders he issued were passed through High Command and before the General Staff as a courtesy so he would not have to bother with the mundanity of logistics and organization.


“ This means?”


“ Well, Desaria, the…contentment…as Chief of the General Staff is positively dripping from your every pore. I have issued orders for two Corps of my Inquisitoriate troops to prepare for a combat deployment. As formations down the battalion level they are new and have had no field experience being part of larger units. So, I have decided to accomplish two goals: one the Marschal’s, and the other my own. We are going to infiltrate the Demosthesian interior and eliminate some of their lesser industrial infrastructure and in the process give my men their trial by fire.”


“ I can only imagine what this has to do with me. Your men are not needed elsewhere and so do not fall under my authority.”


“ I was hoping you would come along for the ride. Consider a challenge. Neither of my Corps has a commanding officer.”


The silence that followed could not have been shattered by a superlaser at full blast.

The Past….


“Celeste, they executed them! The people were starving and WE executed them!”

“Honey, calm down. You’ll wake, Simon.” The gray eyes of the blonde woman flashed in anger at the outburst of her husband, a Commander whose ship was the Imperial Dreadnaught Radiant.

“We all need to wake up!” Tiren Kaine whispered harshly. “First, the Grand Army of the Republic’s command was taken from the Jedi, some incident or other. Then, the Jedi become enemies of the state! An assassination of Emperor Palpatine .. but I wonder if the Jedi attempted anything of the sort! What is real and what is propaganda?

I wonder if the rumor about the massacre on Tralus was true after all?”


“Of course, it’s not true!” snapped Celeste Kaine. “It’s all Rebel propaganda.”

“I wonder..”

“How was Captain Needa?” the man’s wife suddenly asked, changing the subject.

“The @#%$ got his hands on an Imperator Class ship.” Tiren said, in admiration. “He took me on a tour of the thing and I must say, THAT is the pinnacle of starship engineering.”

“You should have had your own command of one by now!” Celeste murmured, her anger directed those unseen individuals who decides who gets command and who doesn’t. “In fact, your rank as Captain should have come through by now!”

“It doesn’t bother me, dear. I am too much of a sore thumb on the military’s hand.” Tiren said dryly.

“You deserve an Imperator Command.” His wife simply stated, as if it was a universal fact to be acknowledged by even the Emperor.

Tiren looked over at his wife in wonder. She may disagree with him, she may even disagree strongly with his views at times but she put their family first. She held a mother’s ambition for her son as well as a wife’s ambition for her husband. Greater rank meant greater financial security. A financially secure home .. the practical things his wife reigned supreme over.

But does ambition guarantee happiness?

How much of what his wife thought and did reflect her unconscious competition with her mother. Celeste’s father was an influential politician who had made his fortune amid the turmoil of the Clone Wars. He could have made a bid for Chancellor if Palpatine had not dissolved the position, elevating himself to Emperor.

The Empire was supposed to breathe back life into the Republic infusing it’s people with a new sense of purpose.

He shook his head.

“What did Captain Needa say about it?” his wife asked softly, seeing his turmoil.

“There was a plague going around. Very hush hush so as to not alarm the population. Those taken down were a very real threat to the population and the people refused to remain in isolation.”

“An epidemic could have killed millions.”

“True. And I would feel for the poor boys that had to carry out that sad duty to preserve what we have.. but I cannot get over the look on the Captain’s face who shot the ‘infected’. He had the look of a man who enjoyed the order. I swear, I am going to put in a report to his commanding officer. This Captain Zell should be drummed out of the military!”

He turned to his wife, “What is it with this younger generation, Celeste? What is happening to them? It’s like the Republic has gone mad and that madness has manifested itself in the form of the Empire.”

“This is just one incident, Tiren.” she started.

“I know.. and then this damned Rebellion. What is happening to us? There are inconsistencies, there are questions but everyone is afraid to ask. There is a growing fear in the older generation and a growing coldness in the younger.”


As if the comment sparked a memory, his lips smiled a little bit, “You should meet Captain Needa’s new Exec. Officer. You’d see what I mean.”

“Commander Hyfe? You mentioned he was the quiet type.”

“More like, cold fish type. And he’s just a kid… holding a commander’s rank.”

“He must be gifted.” Celeste commented.

Always finding a silver lining.

“The kid stared right through me, Celeste.”

“Well you were Captain Needa’s former Exec before taking command of the Radiant. That’s just boys being boys.”

And then Tiren laughed.. “All right… honey. I get your point.” He relented, slipping his arm around her.

She sniffed dramatically as they walked to their bedroom. Stopping by the showering room, she said,“You, Commander, need a shower..”

“Officer thinking..” was her husband’s only reply as he pulled her in causing her to yelp out in undignified surprise.

But they didn’t care.

Ambition was no substitute for love.




Later, when Tiren had fallen asleep, his wife put her arm around him, her eyes worried. Keeping her family safe was only going to get harder.








Designation: Staging Area 2 Present Day…


“Victory has already arrived sir. As has the Jaeder, Viscera, Tarra Kasar, and Invincible.”


“Very well… open an active communications channel, encrypted.” Kaine ordered as he stood on the bridge watching the officers and crewmen carry out their assigned tasks.


The Imperial Star Destroyers were flanked by other strange types of vessels. Large vessels.


Very large vessels.


Simon Kaine grinned at the sight of them, old memories pouring in. The tactical planning from the first Dark Alliance ran through his head.




Tactical Planning Room of the Dark Alliance, Code Name: SOG, 2 years ago..


The meeting place taking place at an undisclosed location. Grand Admiral Zell had called them together, all factions in the old Dark Alliance: The New Order, The Naboo Sith Order and The Rogue Empire.


Zell was speaking, “OK the initial phase will be the brainstorming phase...

Simon and I have come up with a very vague plan... nothing definite has transpired although the basis for our invasion has been set.

First off... and this is where there's room for modification, mainly in exactly what goes on here... what methods will be employed in order to distract the NR's attention from Coruscant which will be our main focus. My initial inspiration was that of a surprise attack on Corellia which will indeed be the spot of our first attack. Now some other form of distraction may occur, Simon indicated a seizure of their water district.


We're going to take the NR's focus off of Coruscant, and when they do we're going to strike and we're going to strike hard.

Now when the enemy ships that will undoubtedly arrive at Corellia do indeed arrive, we're going to have just enough of a force to KEEP THEM THERE. We will have to have tons of Interdiction Pickets, we'll set up a ton of grav wells so that they can't escape, or divert forces back to Coruscant.

These are the very elementary ideas that we've come up with, what we have to figure out is how are we going to divert their attention. How are we going to keep their forces there and at bay with minimal losses on our side?

And lastly, what will we do to Coruscant when we get the chance?”



Admiral Hyfe mused over the question, “Mmm...

Well what the hell do we really need a distraction for if we're just going to send in a shiz load of pickets to hold forces at Corellia? Wouldn't we just need a feint attack (with a good-sized attack force) to show up at Corellia (with tons of IPs), and then when NR backup is sent there, the attack force jumps out, leaving the IPs to hold TRE ships at Corellia, and then joins up with the rest of the TNO fleet, as well as NR and TNSO forces, and skidaddles on over to Coruscant?

Or am I missing something there?”


Then Darth Poreon asked a question that was running through Simon’s mind at the time, “We have plenty of ships at our disposal, why not conquer Corellia also?”

Something then sparks Zell’s enthusiasm, “I know EXACTLY what you mean Poreon, which is why I had to think hard about Simon's albeit good idea about seizing their water district. Which if I know Simon half as well as I think I do he's probably already got the thing planned out.

Hyfe... this is what I'm wondering about... do we actually need a distraction and a... well a distraction? We could actually do this so that we have a distraction and an attack... it would work out brilliantly...

We pull some kind of small distraction on say Tralus or Tatooine one of their damned planets... then we hit Corellia... by this time they're thinking oh @#%$ they distracted us at Tralus to hit Corellia! And now we smoothly roll into Imperial Center and decimate anything that bows down at our feet... err... ECLIPSE STAR DESTROYER!!!!!!!!!

This coordinated assault is going to make their mere mission failure seem like tossing straws into the wind. We could even leak false info just like the Emperor did to the Rebels.

We are going to have more resources at our disposal than the NR can shake a 'saber at. We'll have Intel royally @#%$ up one planet like Simon said taking over their water district or something.. have two factions joined... TNO and say.. IS and TRE hitting Corellia... and then when that begins, a few select TNSO personnel will help Maximus, Simon, and Yang on the ground. This is going to have so many fallback positions that we won't be ABLE to fail!”

He slammed his hand down on the table as an exclamation mark to his driven will to conquer.

And it was then that the pseudo Emperor brought forth his plan, “I have agreed full well to assist TNO in any plan to conquer the Rebellion, under the definite promise that I would never be betrayed provided I never betrayed myself. I personally have several plans for taking Corellia, as well as Coruscant. Coruscant would probably be the key to everything of course...so we have to decide...do we want minimal civilian casualties or do we want minimal military casualties or do we want zero casualties in general?

I will not alot my forces to Corellia so they can be ripped to shreds by enemy fire within a matter of seconds...but I do have a certain few Interdictors, whom if they could be escorted, could hold off the Republic long enough for an important invasion to take place. Of course, Coruscant is highly dependant on a few things that we know for certain:

1) Water. They cannot get a whole lot of water onto the platforms of the planet due to lack of ability to go below and the pollution down there.

2) Tibanna Gas: I control Bespin, and they need this stuff for their vehicles

3) Transportation: Take out transportation and they're screwed

Finally in conclusion if we are not too worried about civilian lives being lost, we could always just tear down the repulsors and pillars holding up the great city. On a lighter note...I don't even think we need to siege Corellia...I have a better idea if anyone is interested.
My other idea...?

We want to freeze them eh? I will begin construction of shield ships. If we can wait a little bit, we will attack Corellia, full force...I would prefer a mixture of your forces and mine. Few Star Destroyers, probably my Vengeance Fleet...make it look like an all out invasion. Draw them back to Despayre where they have no hope of winning, even with their super laser. Or leave 'em at Corellia...but I think that is imprudent, what with their allies, and with the fact that they have the support of that system.

When all this is done...we escort the shield ships into Corsucant. Now if you think about it, they are more than large enough to hold cloaking devices, so slap those on there, and block the sun.”


Simon could see that the idea did intrigue his comrade but the Grand Admiral merely stated, “Now Fearsons... my main problem with this is... we're not attempting to kill tons of people.

Perhaps it'll work very well... we don't know yet. But keep in mind that this planet is going to be the new home of the Empire... we're not simply going to trash the planet and "force" the people of the planet to accept our rule, at least after an attack like this, the survivors.

What WE are going to do is completely obliterate any NR forces that stand in our way and take Coruscant as OUR capital.”

The idea though had stuck into Zell’s mind and construction was started. Simon could see Admiral Hyfe roll his eyes. He didn’t trust the Rogue any more than Simon did but there was nothing they could do. If the attack was to move forward, they would all need to act as one.


Unfortunately, the plan did not come to fruition.


The sheer logistics of an operation of this magnitude was almost enough to derail it. But a staging area was set up and material was moved into position.


..only to end up forgotten.




Present Day..



Shield Ships.


Using the Rogue Empire’s own ideas and resources against them seemed appropriate. Staging Area two had been the gathering point for Grand Admiral Zell’s Coruscant Operation, long forgotten when Fearsons broke from the alliance during the Empire’s Shadows Campaign.


But Kaine remembered the planning. He remembered the acquisitions. He remembered the betrayal.


Substitute Despayre or Jutraal for Coruscant and you have a workable plan in place with allocated resources, albeit considered discarded.


The key would be Gevel’s handling of the situation. If Kaine moved without Gevel backing him then he might be caught between the Jutraalian and the Demosthesians. If Gevel acted and Kaine didn’t then the Commodore might find himself between Demosthesian forces and Republic or Jutraalian forces.


Both situations would not be good.

Timing would be everything.

“Report conditions of all assets. Once word comes in from Duro or Centerpoint, we will have very little time with which to act.” Kaine ordered the encryption station. He then switched on the monitor keyed into the active communications channel.

“Gentlemen, your orders are being sent to you via encryption. This is not going to be clean. Maximum damage in minimal time. Execute and achieve. We are sending the encryption keys for the emergency channel for this operation over to you now.”

His gloved hand brushed against the necklace hanging from the armrest of his command chair. A necklace made up of the skulls of some small snake-like creature.


Always anticipate emergencies…


The thought causing Simon to feel strange awakening something hidden in the recesses of his mind… …


…something old.

He’d heard the phrase before…


He just couldn’t remember where..






The Past..



“You wouldn’t believe how organized these Rebels are, Needa.” Tiren Kaine commented, as the Captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer took his seat in the kitchen of his former Executive Officer.

“I’ve seen evidence of this as well,” Needa replied, taking a drink that Tiren’s wife had prepared for him. “In the Bellacose System, their early warning detection systems rivals even ours.”

A recently promoted Captain Kaine’s eyes furrowed at this. “Reports indicate that the Rebels are using second hand, second rate materials.”

“That is true in some instances. In some instances,” Needa stressed, “The supplies captured at Bellacose were very new.”

“So either the Rebels are very well funded or …”

“.. or a weapons manufacturing company has turned traitor.”

“I don’t like either of those options. If the Rebels are well funded then that means the quality of their traitors is getting higher. Government Officials perhaps? If they are getting new weapons from a manufacturing company gone traitor then future conflicts will only end in more Imperial losses given the improved quality of their weapons.”

“And they are getting familiar with the weapons through practice. Practice on us.”

“Can’t Darth Vader locate them? Isn’t he a Sith Lord? Supposedly they are stronger than the Jedi yes?”

Needa shook his head. “I don’t think it works like that.”


Kaine sighed. “Something big is coming, Needa. I can feel it. What we’ve been stopping is merely the tip of the avalanche.”

Needa sighed and looked up when Celeste Kaine walked into the kitchen and sat next to her husband. Even though married himself, he felt a twinge of envy for the two. His wife would not fight for him to command one of the Imperators. Celeste? Celeste harassed the Military Command Brass every chance she got.

Especially seeing that their were about 20,000 – 25,000 warships out there now.

But her husband still commanded the Radiant, the old Imperial Dreadnaught.

She frowned slightly every time Needa’s ship was mentioned. Evidently a sore subject with her still.


“Our military strength is optimum right now, Tiren. The ‘trouble’ planets are not close to being the irritant that secessionists of the Clone Wars were during the Republic days. We’ve tightened our grip on policies since then. A fact my new Exec. keeps reminding me of every chance he gets.”

“How is Lieutenant Commander Hyfe?”

“He’s…” Needa searched for the appropriate description, “young.”

Tiren grinned slightly at that and Needa continued, “I envy your command sometimes, Tiren.”

“Whatever for? Big ship like an Imperator ..”

“It’s not the same.” Needa interrupted, “Commanding thousands of people makes command such a sterile, distant thing. Commanding a smaller vessel allows you to know the strengths and weaknesses of your crew. You know!”

Needa sat up a bit straighter. “I would feel more comfortable with trusting your crew than mine.”

Tiren Kaine was going to chuckle the observation off but he saw the dead seriousness in Needa’s eyes. Celeste gave Captain Needa a look of sympathy.

“A crew you can trust.” Tiren said, “A necessity. You always have to anticipate emergencies.”

“Mommy?” came a tired voice, as a little boy, rubbing the sleepies from his eyes, walked into the kitchen area.

“Simon, what are you doing up?” Celeste started.

“Hey, how’s my little General?” Tiren asked, picking the boy up. “Here, this is Daddy’s friend, Captain Needa.”

“Hello, Neeeedah. I’m a General.” Simon said, pointing sleepily to himself.

Captain Needa grinned and gave the little boy a salute that would have drawn pride from a Grand Admiral.

“Herr General.”

Tiren and Needa laughed while Celeste took Simon from her husband.

“You’ve a fine boy, Mrs. Kaine.” Captain Needa said.

“What about me?” Tiren said in mock indignation. “He’s my boy too, you know?”

“A good looking kid like that?” Needa commented with a bit of an aristocratic tone in his voice. “He’s the spitting image of your Midshipman, Third Level.”

“Third Level!?” Celeste said, nonplussed, and not without a little bit of heat. “I would settle for no less than.. than.. a Grand Admiral!”

Both men laughed.

“See? She has very particular tastes.”

“Then why is she with your ugly mug?”


And the friends stayed up till the late hours talking over more memories, more jokes and more mulling over the future.


“Always anticipate emergencies…” Simon Kaine repeated in his little bed not knowing what the words meant.

Duro

A woman, slim, with dark hair and eyes that sparkled with intelligence, entered the office abruptly, looking like a person who had walked into the wrong room. She was scarcely more than a little girl, in the opinion of Theren Gevel, who immediately spoke up. “You would be Admiral Bhindi Drayson,” he said, not so much asking as stating it.

She nodded briefly, whatever boldness she may have had returning to her. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, swaggering in and taking a seat without being asked. In a very simple way, Theren could derive a number of things about her from this simple action. Bhindi Drayson was young and cocky, out to prove herself by any means necessary. She had received fame, praise and attention because of her association with her father, yet clearly sought to distance herself from him by her own deeds. In short, she was exactly what he had anticipated.

“I am Commodore Theren Gevel,” he said, adding, “and Governor of the Bastion Conclave.” He gave a tired glance at Trachta. “This is Commodore Trachta. He’ll be sitting in on our meeting. And this, of course, is your own Commander Drif.”

She nodded to Drif, giving no indication of any personal relationship. Nor had Theren expected any more of her. “Now, the good commander here fell into the hands of the Empire purely by coincidental means. We’ve treated him as an honored guest, as he can tell you – and you are free to take him back.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, Commodore,” the woman replied, “Why exactly was this meeting necessary, then? Why not just send him back on a shuttle when you found him?”

Theren pondered the question for a moment, apparently taking his time to devise a proper response. In truth, it was all posturing; he’d played out this meeting a million times in his head, and every word, glance, and action had been carefully planned. “There have been… extenuating circumstances, Miss Drayson. Aside from the fact that an intergalactic incident could have been very possible, I have reason to believe that Commander Drif would be in grave danger, were I to return him to you.”

Drayson sneered. “It’s neither your position nor your right to determine what is best for my officers.”

Theren looked casually at Drif. “He knows, Bhi – Admiral.”

She glared back at Gevel, scowling slightly and locking gazes with him. “How much do you know, Commodore Gevel?”

Theren shrugged. “More than you think.” It was at this moment that the intelligence work of the Conclave Executors and the Conclave itself would have to come into play. Theren was well aware of the time-critical nature of the mission that had fallen abruptly into his lap. They’d triangulated what Drif’s approximate position would have been previous to his jump to Duro, and searched the wreckage of the few vessels he’d managed to damage during his fight and subsequent flight. There, they’d found logs pointing to a Star Destroyer by the name of Korolev moving into the Borlaeis system. What, exactly, it had been doing there had been utterly irrelevant. Falsified logs and documents had been quickly concocted using the format and encoding found in the wreckage of Drif’s Skipray Blastboat.

At this moment, it came down to delivery. Manipulation. Kaine had advised Theren to investigate the truth behind the senior Admiral Drayson’s death, but in reflection, such a thing was pointless. Let the girl believe what she wanted to believe, and hate the Republic for it. If the truth of his death favored their cause, then it would be used; if not, Theren would have lied. So why bother?

“I know that Demosthesian High Command has been moving those who sympathize with the Empire’s cause away from the core. I know that they have been severing ties with the Empire. And I know that Commander Drif has found proof that the Demosthesians have been associating with the remnants of the New Republic.”

Drayson continued to scowl. Theren continued to speak.

“We found the exact position of Drif’s battle, and searched the wreckage at the scene. What we found was… disturbing.” Theren paused. “We learned of the Korolev’s movement into the Borlaeis system, as I am sure you somehow have – Commander Drif has told me about your ongoing investigation into this matter. Like you, we were curious as to its business there.”

Theren pulled several pieces of paper from inside his desk. He preferred to use the antiquated form of data storage as often as possible, especially in cases of forgery – it seemed so much more genuine, when in truth it was as easily falsified as a datapad. “I assume you know who this man is,” he said, pointing to a picture of a ruggedly handsome man, late thirties, with dark hair.

“Kasien Treseda,” she said, without missing a beat.

“Yeah,” Theren acknowledged. “Kasien Treseda, a former New Republic Intelligence agent, a current Ossan Intelligence Agent, and a friend of Gash Jiren. Both Treseda and Jiren, I would remind you, were on the bridge of the Twilight the day your father perished at the hands of the crooked and corrupt Jedi.” This stung, rather clearly. A powerful message, as Theren had intended. “Our intelligence on Ossus pointed clearly to his presence on Borlaeis, while the Korolev was there. This,” Theren said, tossing another sheet of paper onto the desk, “is a Ossan Shuttle Transport record of his departure for the planet. These,” several more sheets of paper, “are copies of documents from the destroyed craft Commander Drif fought with many vague references to Treseda. And this,” one final sheet, “is a copy of a military briefing from onboard the Razor’s Kiss, naming one Commander Drif as a target for capture or assassination.” Theren pushed the stack of paper towards Bhindi. “Also found at the site of his battle.”

Drayson stared at the sheets of paper, clearly stunned by the monumental amount of information and proof to the contrary of what she would likely prefer to believe before her. Most of it was manufactured; but with the remnants of a Demosthesian ship in their possession, creating convincing forgeries had been fairly easy. “You see, Miss Drayson, there is little doubt left in my mind that, not only is the Demosthesian Empire associating with agents of the New Republic, but it is actively targeting Imperial sympathizers who might object to this shift in policy.”

Bhindi Drayson stared apprehensively at the sheets of paper. “This all seems a bit too convenient, Commodore. How do I even know that you’ve been to the site of that battle, never mind –”

Drayson was abruptly cut off as a jagged hunk of metal landed on the desk before her. In the center of it was a plaque.



“I am not playing games, Miss Drayson,” Theren said. “You may take Commander Drif and return to Commenor, but I wash my hands of whatever becomes of you there. The Demosthesian Empire is becoming yet another tool of the Jedi – of the fiends who murdered your father.”

In the end, it truly was a masterpiece. A work of art taking into account the very soul of its audience, forgeries perfectly manufactured to gel with the stories Drayson would be provided with. She would never know that Treseda had flown to Ruusan for a routine system inspection instead of to Borlaeis. And it didn’t matter. The emotional reaction set forth by the mountain of evidence was simply too great.

It was a gamble, certainly. If it failed, the resulting incident would lead the Empire to war with the Demosthesians, and utterly doom and chance the New Order may have had to seize hold of the situation. But, he thought, and he vaguely remember saying something to the same effect to a young Captain Quinn at some sort of function years before, what the fuck did he care?

“I don’t know if I’ll be returning to Commenor,” Drayson finally said.



The message was concise, and more importantly, lacking in details, for security purposes.

<font size=1>Grand Marshall Kaine:

The primary objective that was discussed in earlier correspondence has come to fruition. The child has been severed from the parent.

I will mobilize whether or not I receive a reply. I suggest you do so immediately, also. Timing is of the essence.

This is what we’ve been waiting for. Best of luck.

Gloria Imperium
Commodore Theren Gevel
Bastion Conclave Governor</font>



Centerpoint
“Staging Area 1”

Theren walked slowly through the massive interior city that marked the heart of Centerpoint station. It was like a planet unto itself, secured within the belly of a great steel beast. There, near the core of this city, were the gathered forces that Kaine had mentioned. They now mobilized rapidly, setting themselves off through the magnetic containment field.

Outside that blue energy field lay hundreds of swarming ships against the backdrop of space. Barely visible behind them was the massive Zenith, Theren’s flagship. Behind it still were the dark-gray vessels of Bhindi Drayson’s Black Fleet.

The operation they were launching would the one of the largest since the Battle of Bastion. It was a critical mission, upon which rode the future of the Empire. Drayson would lead them into the heart of the Demosthesian Empire, and there they would strike, wiping their rebel sentiment once and for all from the galaxy. Once – before the Battle of Bastion, what seemed like centuries before – there had been whisperings of a plan to be executed from that station, to do the very same.

It had never come to fruition. History, it seemed, would now be rectified. “Sir!” Shouted one of the soldiers, a corporal by rank, as he rushed across the floor. “What are you doing here, sir?”

Theren smirked slightly. “Just soaking in the nostalgia. Get back to your unit, Corporal.”

The soldier was right; he shouldn’t have been there. But something had drawn him to that place, if only to see if before they left for Commenor. Perhaps it was the spirit of commanders much more experienced than he, and the grand plans they’d once sought to carry out. Once, before the Battle of Bastion had brought all that to a crashing halt.

In more ways than one, history would be rectified. The Empire would be returned to its former glory, even if it was only to a shade of it at first.

The commlink at his waist buzzed. It was Tornel. “Commdoore, You’d best catch a ride aboard. We are leaving immediately.”

Hyperspace,
En Route to Commenor

Theren ran his hands through his hair, anxiously reworking the plan in his mind for the thousandth time. Over and over, since the very minute Bhindi Drayson had announced her intent to defect from the Holy Demosthesian Empire, Theren had played out this pivotal battle in his mind. He’d played out the grand strategy of it, the allocation of forces, the placement of forces during battle in multiple systems. As Drayson had provided the intelligence information that would prove as essential as the Black Fleet she similarly surrendered to the plans of the Empire.

In the pit of his stomach, nervousness panged, and he knew that in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming at the top of its lungs that he should be on lower decks, preparing for the battle to come. Rehearsing his plans yet one more time. But, in the end, he knew that it was too late now for that; that what was to come was, indeed, what was to come, and could be dealt with only when it so came. The blue whirlpool of hyperspace glided past silently, and no officer – not even Tornel – made the mistake of disturbing him.

Planning was important; essential, pivotal, vital. Theren had never disputed this; indeed, he was known for meticulously planning every detail of his assaults, from staging areas to continuity plans, leaving no element up to chance. Many tacticians throughout Imperial history had hypothesized that planning was more important than the battle itself: that for every ten minutes on the battlefield, the successful and practical commander spent an hour planning.

This, for all of its wisdom, was wishful thinking. Endless meetings in dimly-lit rooms could never take the place of battlefield commanders; if they could, humans would be replaced by robots and all wars would be fought from the boardroom. But at the end of the day, it came down to pivotal moments; crucial decisions which plotted the course of fate.

Theren’s career had come down to pivotal moments. The Battle of Bastion had been more or less free-form, with massive forces being tossed into the system with increasing fervency as it became more and more apparent that that battle was to be a high-stakes game of winner-takes-all. The ousting of Commander Shyle over Dantooine had been a split second notion, and the battle that had ensued had been utterly unplanned. Were it not for those two events, Theren would not be a commodore; he would be a Line Captain still, or, more likely – given Shyle’s less-than-warm disposition towards him and plans to have him court marshaled on Coruscant following their now-legendary shouting match – sitting on Coruscant, unemployed as most military rejects were, hearing about this on the Holonet.

Or, he thought, reconsidering, not hearing about it on the Holonet. The territory he’d taken during his time as a Commodore was well more than twice that of every other military official combined. Had his own men not led them irrevocably down this path, towards a confrontation with the Demosthesians? Had he not personally persuaded Bhindi Drayson to join – or, as Kaine had put it, programmed her into obeying – the Empire?

Yes, indeed. Not only his fate, but all fates rested on pivotal moments.



Bastion
Timeline: Two hours before departure for Duro

Vice-Admiral Vikar – hero of the Battle of Bastion – had gone into a coma shortly after the conquest of N’zoth, after first having evacuated and then heroically piloting his crippled Star Destroyer into enemy forces single-handedly during the fight for J’t’p’tan. The two now formed the backbone of the construction force of the Bastion Conclave – and, indeed, much of the empire, as the enslaved Yevethans proved to be truly skilled workers. But not a day went by when Theren didn’t wonder if the cost had been worth it.

Vikar, a man deprived of what otherwise would have been his rank in ways and for reasons similar to Theren’s own, had been the closest thing to a father figure that the Governor of Bastion had ever had, as the son of a poor Coruscant resident who had died early in Theren’s life. That, in itself, struck Theren as a remarkably sad statement. He thought of this near-corpse of a man as his father.

He regretted that thought almost immediately, as he sat down next to the hospital bed Vikar had resided in for a great deal of time. The bustling metropolis of Bastion’s capital buzzed below the window, but Theren’s paid it no mind as he pulled the drapes.

In his hand was clutched a copy of the dispatch to Simon Kaine’s office. He knew that the comatose man couldn’t see it, but he hoped that, distantly, he could hear it, as he read it aloud to him. “…Gloria Imperium, Commodore Theren Gevel, Bastion Conclave Governor,” he finished, looking up at Vikar as if he expected the man to suddenly show some sign of life in celebration. Of course, he continued to sleep peacefully.

Theren could almost hear the words of Vikar in his mind. “This is the most important thing you’ve done in your career, Theren. If you fail, the Empire will have no place for you. Success is your only option.”

Theren nodded to the disembodied voice. “I know. But I won’t fail.”

“I know you believe you won’t, in your heart of hearts. But remember that it isn’t just the Empire that’s resting its hope on you; it’s the people of the Empire.”

Yes, the people. Those who would one day reap the rewards of a stable, peaceful government. But only if he succeeded. And if he failed, if, in that single moment when success and failure came to a head and fate had to select one, if fate opted against him, all of those people would be deprived of a future they would never know had existed in the realm of possibility. “I won’t fail,” Theren said again. Then a nurse knocked on the door of the room, entering as quietly as possible.

“Commodore Gevel?” She said sweetly. “You have to go, now. Your shuttle is preparing for takeoff.”

It would all come down to one moment.



Duro
Timeline: One hour before departure for Commenor

“This, gentlemen,” Theren said, glaring across the darkened planning chamber, “will be the pinnacle of most of your careers. We’ve been entrusted with a task of the highest importance, by Grand Marshall Kaine himself.”

A hologram, displaying the galactic core in full detail, and featuring multiple suns, sprang up from the center of the table. Labels jumped from the systems; among those labeled were Duro, Corellia, Commenor, and Coruscant. “Most of you probably won’t be shocked to learn that I’ve been working on enlisting the aid of a former Demosthesian official. Anyone who is, is probably here because they kissed the ass of some Admiral in High Command. The official’s name is Bhindi Drayson.”

A murmur rose up from the gathered group. Together, the group composed all eight members of the Bastion Conclave, as well as many of the highest-ranking members of the Zenith flotilla. “How did you convince her, if I may ask?” Spoke up one of the fleet commanders.

“You may not ask,” Theren replied, quite simply. “Are you under the delusion that I’ve upgraded your security access from fuck-all to almost nothing?”

The officer sat back, and thought the better of replying. “Admiral Drayson has brought with her the Black Fleet,” he continued, “not the original one, mind you. Just her own rendition. Either way, it’s an impressive force, and we’ll be coordinating with them on this attack. Our mission is simple enough that even most of you should be able to grasp it; cripple the Demosthesian military, while the Grand Marshall’s forces make use of the momentum, and added forces, to simultaneously finish the last of the Jutraalian Empire.”

This brought forth even more of a murmur throughout the room, and prompted several protests. “Sir,” said one of them, a Captain Hivel, “with all do respect, that defies logic – if we were to strike for the core of the Demosthesians, we would need a concentration of all of our forces, together – splitting them is suicide.”

“You can stop speaking in the hypothetical, Captain, because we’re doing this. And we’re doing it whether or not the legendary Captain Hivel decides to give his blessing to the Grand Marshall’s plan.”

Another officer leaned forward in his chair. “Sir, I have to agree. This plan makes no sense. Maybe you –”

Theren cut him off. “All of you, stop babbling. Think about it, for a moment, before you start with this fearing-for-your-lives shit. If we attack the Demosthesians, what does the Jutraalian remnant do? If we attack the Jutraalian remnant, what do the Demosthesians do?” This seemed to stop most of the chatter. “Attacking gives us the tactical advantage. We’ll be striking in their systems, not ours, so we’ll have the element of surprise, and probably a numerical advantage, as well. I’ve already developed a plan of attack at the strategic and combat levels.”

On the holographic map, several planets were highlighted. “With the help of Admiral Drayson, we’ve secured the position of an optimal entry route into Commenor. That will be the primary target. We’ve got another entry route for Bilbringi, and we’ll be striking there, as well. These are the military complexes of the Demosthesians, and thorough strikes here will destroy what is estimated to be two-thirds of their navy.”

“But why not take their outlying worlds, first?” Asked one of the officers.

Theren shook his head. “You don’t seem to be understanding the purpose of this attack. This isn’t the beginning of a war; this is an all-or-nothing deal. If we succeed, there won’t be an empire for the outlying worlds to cling to.” He hit a button and the map fell back in its magnification, showing most of the galaxy, now. The Demosthesian territories were highlighted. “The Demosthesians have been moving themselves into a position to get friendly with the remnants of the Republic, most likely hoping to oust the Empire as a leading power. They’ve moved their most loyal, pro-Republic forces to the core, and exiled more pro-Imperial officers to patrol duty around rim worlds like Sluis Van and Bespin.”

Theren smiled thinly. “They’ve fucked up; they didn’t know that we were going to hit them first, or that we were going to hit them so hard. We’re going to use their own policies against them; once the backbone of the Demosthesian military is broken, and Commenor and Bilbringi have been taken, outlying worlds dominated by pro-Imperialists will pack their fucking bags. The Senex Confederacy will help absorb Sluis Van and Bespin. Our strong presence around Bastion will easily assimilate Yaga Minor. Other worlds will have no place to go; by this time, Grand Marshall Kaine will be pissing on the statue of Chadd Fearsons on Jutraal. There will be no strong pro-Republic forces remaining in the galaxy.”

The others, awed by the scope of the plan, had finally fallen silent. “Now, as I was saying. Other elements of the fleet will be meeting us at Staging Area 1, which is Centerpoint Station. These are your assignments…”

Commenor

The Zenith fell out of hyperspace in the Commenor system without pomp or ceremony. Beside her were the combined forces of the Black Fleet and the Empire, already in attack formation, as they had been before the jump from the Corellian system. “All vessels ahead at maximum synchronized power, and have the Vigilance begin to power up her Interdiction fields,” ordered Theren. Though, really, the command had been rehearsed and planned; there was no need to give it.

A small siren went off, as hostile activity was detected. “Scan the system,” Theren ordered. “Check enemy placement against the intelligence we were provided.” Several officers in the sensors pit bustled to comply.

In a few moments, one of them said, “Scan complete. Five percent discrepancy – the reports were as accurate as they possibly could have been.” Before them, out the viewport, the subjects of the scan could be seen rather clearly; the massive vessels of the Demosthesian Empire, only vaguely organized, strewn about the system on a variety of patrols. None were in the direct path of the primary battle group.

Already, a second, smaller group of vessels had jumped in on the other side the system – beyond the furthest reaches of the planets, well out of sensor range. The Interdictor Vigilance had jumped into the system ahead of them, directly into the area encompassed by the planetary orbits. Only a few clicks from the Vigilance, as predicted, was a group of four Star Destroyers and support craft on a routine system sweep for any sort of illegal vessel.

“The Vigilance is reporting initial shots exchanged, sir,” reported the communications officer.

“Have her TIE Defender escort fire a round of torpedoes and engage,” Theren replied. The Defenders, possessed of their own hyperdrives, infinitely outperformed TIE Devils and Fighters, in his opinion, especially given their ability to enter a system independently. “And finish powering up the Interdiction field.” Across the system, to the right of Commenor’s sun, the four Star Destroyers and Interdictor were vaguely visible.

“Interdiction field ready, sir,” the communications officer reported again.

“Relay the coordinates of the Vigilance to Battle Group Beta, and have them micro-jump towards them, as rehearsed,” Theren commanded. Seconds later, a great number of vessels could be seen, pulled safely out of hyperspace after a jump that would have been otherwise too small to be possible, surrounding the Vigilance. “Order them to open fire,” he said.

“Sir, three Star Destroyers are headed towards us.”

“Move to engage. Attack pattern Commenor-3-Gamma, and forward those orders to the Black Fleet.”

The moment he had awaited had begun. And Theren was not prepared to even slightly miscalculate.

So much depended on it.

Taken from Endgame: Moving into Play....

Despayre


Clearance was given and the shuttle exited Galactus without incident. Upon entering the atmosphere of Despayre, Kaine’s eyes narrowed at the landscape of a planet he’d only seen before in holographic fasion.

The shuttle landed at the specified coordinates and Kaine left two soldiers standing at attention on each side of the ramp.

The wind was growing cold for the planet was preparing to enter it’s winter season in a week or two. The black overcoat that Kaine wore flapped in the wind, the stone walkways clicking beneath his boots.

Holding a gloved hand up to halt the Imperials behind him, Kaine glanced approvingly as the Jutraalian guards ran scans over them before admitting him into the rather large building.

The landing platform seemed to extend over a cliff causing the building to seem rather imposing as one walked to it.

As soon as the Imperials entered, Jutraalian custom dictated that only Kaine enter the inner sanctum, his officers offered quarters to wait in.

Kaine walked alone inside knowing that cameras and security devices of all sorts were tracking his progress.

He felt no overpowering need to test the measures.



Now... Approaching Zero Hour..


Staging Area #2

Messages, status reports, planning strategies and periodical updates burned off the monitors as soldiers ran to and fro readying the final preparations.


"How the hell do we break through their defense lines?" Admiral Chandler of the ISD Victory asked.

The Marshall smiled grimly. "he shield ships will be taking care of that."

"And the inner defense?"

"A small present left on Despayre some time ago. Contingency plan that can be taken advantage of..." Kaine elaborated. Sort of.

"See here, the hyperspace route through the Togorian System is still open though after the Wrath Virus, its reinforcement has .. diminished greatly."

"Fearsons no longer controls the system does he?"

"No. And as a result he has been force to create new routes to his empire."

"His fleet is formidable."

"Yet not so much as it was before the Wrath Virus. Jutraal's infrastructure was hit hard."

"He was a fool to align himself with the Republic. Open ports allowed the virus to spread."

"Do not count them out. Intelligence shows that.." Kaine punched in more codes and a holographic overlay of a topical layout of the planet of Despayre appeared, "the Jutraalians have been very busy with rebuilding."

Stats and figures scrolled across the screens as captains and squadron leaders took a look at what they would be facing.

"The Jutraalian military machine is in full production." Captain Quinn smiled wolfishly as spy shots of building vessels sat in their construction berths.

"Shroud 394 captured this shot last week."

"Military transports.."

"Enroute to where?"

"Thyferra."

"So you are suggesting we hit Despayre, Jutraal AND Thyferra? The resources needed for such an undertaking..."

"We have enough." Simon interrupted.

"The approach to Despayre is fairly simple enough. Using the Togoria Corridor we bypass their new hyperspace routes security measures. In fact, since the new routes are no longer forced through one major strand," Kaine looked up and grinned, "he does learn from his mistakes."

"I am sorry.. I don't understand." a woman's voice broke in. A tactical support wing from the Victory.

"I am making reference to the attack on Jutraalian Death Star led by Regent Hyfe and the late Vice Admiral Drakiss."

"I know the operation sir. The Carida Academy has a required study into the particulars of it."

"And if you took the class, you would know then.. Lieutenant Commander, that a major part of that victory was the failure of the Jutraalian government to provide enough reinforcements in time to save the station."

"A major reason for the lack of reinforcements," Admiral Chandler broke in, "was because at the time, the Jutraalian Empire channeled most of it's warships through a singular, massive hyperspace route.

The manufacturing centers on Despayre were cut off from the station when the Grand Marshall and Admiral Jaiprenl attacked the seemingly nondescript world of Togoria..."

"..a planet," Kaine continued, "that had the relative good fortune of being smack dab in the middle of this grand hyperspace route."

"..cutting the strand.." the woman remarked excitedly as the strategy played out in her mind.

"..left the Jutraalian Empire without resources from it's most heavily armed and defended planets." Kaine finished.

"So why do you think they would leave that strand unguarded now?"

"Because, Lieutenant Commander, after Wrath did it's damage, Jutraalian focus shifted away from the Despayre-Togoria-Averam hyperspace lane.

Jutraal became the greater capital world leaving Despayre a shadow of it's former self. Their empire's focus on 'other' routes would leave our 'strand' alone and unused."

Admiral Chandler smiled. "Until now."

"The Jutraalian Defenses will be primed to intercept intruders from their more heavy traffic areas."

Captain Sveli looked at the fighter corps leaders, "In effect their guns are pointing in the wrong direction. We shall flank them and be on top of them before they know what is happening."



Another Captain of an Imperator asked, "What about Jutraal itself? Attacking the capital will be harder than Despayre."


The Grand Marshall allowed a slow smile to spread across his lips. "Not as much trouble as you might think."

Isard, you outdid yourself with this one.

Kaine pulled up another series of holographic images. "Here is what you are to do with Jutraal."

After a few minutes some murmuring broke out between some captains and commanders.

"That is stupid! Why would the Jutraalians do that?"

"You are banking our fleets on one act so... so... inept. Even the Jutraalians are not that self destructive!"

"Ordinarily, I would admit to you being correct. But it took me quite a while to find out about this operation.. an Intelligence operation. Perhaps even a bigger coup than Endgame just due to the sheer audacity of it in it's scope."

Grand Marshall Kaine paused. "You see, gentlemen and women, there is a secret that you do not know about this attack on Jutraal."

The others looked intently at him.

And so he told them...



"Ready your ships, we leave within the hour. Detailed information will be uploaded into your mainframes for final review before you enter your respective systems."


As they left, Chandler went up to Kaine. "I wonder who Isard chose to carry it out."

"The conditioning and training the person underwent would have had to be intense and enormous."

"It was the reason why you were able to pull off Endgame behind Intelligence's back. She was too focused on this operation."

Kaine turned to the Admiral. "It makes you think, Admiral, of what Intelligence is truly capable of."




**

Staging Area 2 was empty as garbage and small parts drifted aimlessly throughout. The ionization of the area under scans would show two groups departing.

And in their wake, the remains of a much viewed encrypted message echoing through space.

Though unreadable to all but those with the keys, it's meaning was unmistakeable.


Mobilization of the highest order.


Grand Marshall Kaine:

The primary objective that was discussed in earlier correspondence has come to fruition. The child has been severed from the parent.

I will mobilize whether or not I receive a reply. I suggest you do so immediately, also. Timing is of the essence.

This is what we’ve been waiting for. Best of luck.

Gloria Imperium
Commodore Theren Gevel
Bastion Conclave Governor



Zero hour approached...

Approaching Zero Hour…


Enroute to Despayre through old Rogue Empire shipping lane via Togoria.


Aboard the Galactus.



The link between the Victory and Galactus was strong. In the planning room, Simon Kaine watched the fleet’s status minute by minute.

“The shield ships are holding.”

“Barely” came back the response from Admiral Chandler.

“But holding.” Kaine finished, grinning. He stared out at the swirling lights of hyperspace outside the viewports.

“You know, Ibren, the more I think about it, the more that Tilrac Birel’s stupidity of the ‘New Empire’ was perhaps the best thing that could ever happen to us. That the Wrath Virus was the best thing that could have happened to the Empire.”

“Because of what we can take advantage of now?”

“Exactly!”

“The audacity of Imperial Intelligence .. of Isard.. was great indeed but I do not see how she could hope to sway the entirety of the Rogue Empire quickly.”

“There was no need for her to act quickly, Simon. At least not before Endgame which was when this plan was put into effect. She effectively controlled the Empire through Exercon almost as thoroughly as she controlled the High Command before Coruscant fell to the New Republic shortly after Palpatine’s death. Before ERO and the Sith took it over, however, briefly.”

“So she moved at the Empire’s largest competitor for control. I have to admit it Ibren. I am impressed. It was the tightest operation carried out by Intelligence by far. Isard earns her reputation well it seems.

Living under her father’s shadow… under her father’s curse.. under his taint, she strikes out to erase his memory.”

Simon sighed. “Just like me..”


“We are the pawns of the earlier generation, eh Simon?

Draysons father’s dead hand is forcing her action splitting the Demosthesians in half. Your father’s dead hand gives you the position and power to bring into being actions to take advantage of the situation. Isards father’s demons drive her to excel in ways that even we dared hoped for giving us the tools to take advantage of the situation.”

Simon grunted. “Makes you wonder about Theren Gevel’s father doesn’t it?”

Chandler grinned, “perhaps the man died in his sleep. Happy and satisfied with his days.”

“Now there’s irony for you.”

“So you think Jutraal will go ahead and do that?” Chandler suddenly asked bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.

“The Jutraalian Empire was created by the Empire, though telling that to it’s citizens and generals would be useless. Chaddwick Fearsons created the Rogue Empire. It was the Rogue Empire that interfered with Fondor and the Freedom Guard Corps destruction. It was the Rogue Empire that entered the Dark Alliance only to betray us at Dantooine.

Was there ever a doubt that the Empire would strike back?”

“Except while the Military Command destroyed the symbol of Rogue Empire’s power, their version of the Death Star, Imperial Intelligence struck at it’s head.

We may have taken the heart out of the Rogues but it was Isard that chopped off it’s head.”

Kaine sighed, “You know, it’s funny, Ibren. No one, not even I stopped to question the change in Rogue Policies, hell the change of their Empire as a whole. Jutraalian Empire? Where the frell did THAT spring from?”






the past…. Just before the Empire Strikes Back Campaign ..

Krake’s Planet..


Ciscero walked behind the commanding figure of Ysane Isard. She was talking, “The Military Command is committed to the destruction of the Rogue Death Star. Even as we speak, Grand Admiral Hyfe, Admiral Drakiss are plotting to strike directly at Hoth.”

“So we are certain it is being built in the Hoth System?”

“Of course. The Shrouds were very effective in their task. But what worries me is General Kaine’s operation.”

“You think he will guess your plans?”

Isard laughed again. “Simon Kaine? Oh no. The man is too timid to be sure, content to follow the lead of someone else. He is a man easily manipulated though he does have good tactical planning when it comes to matters of war and conquest. It is not the man I worry about but his plan.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it will directly affect ours. We cannot sneak into Despayre if their hyperspace route is blockaded by Imperial warships now can we?” Isard’s cold eyes bored into her agent.

“So we have to move fast.”

“Yes, he has yet to finalize his operation. There are reports of growing collaboration with the New Republic..”

“Gash Jiren?”

“Yes, No doubt he will also take a hand in ridding the galaxy of Fearson’s hidden ambitions.”

“Has it ever occurred to anyone that Fearson’s might be telling the truth?”

Isard laughed. It was not a pretty sound. “Has it ever occurred to you Ciscero that it does not matter what Fearson’s real intentions are? What he faces is the direct result of the image he has painted for himself.

The galaxy will not trust him nor his intentions with a weapon as powerful as a Death Star. And really, that propaganda bit about the Death Star being a station for peace.

Imagine that. The most powerful weapon in the galaxy the seat of peace? I swear Ciscero, the man should have executed his public relations people. Amateurs, all of them!”

Isard turned a corner and descended steps dimly lit.

“This is the climax of all Intelligence coups, Ciscero. You will NOT fail at this or I will personally have your head.”

“Maam, all I know is that I am to operate on Despayre during the war only to be extracted after peace is achieved.

So you think that the Empire will not bring down the Rogue Empire at this time?”

“No. I do not. Other factions are being brought into this attack but if you think those factions will stand by and allow the downfall of a power strong enough to check us, you are blind. Gash Jiren sees an opportunity in removing from Fearsons a powerful weapon but he’d be damned if he is going to allow the Empire to absorb the Rogue Empire and grow stronger eclipsing his own New Republic.

The Jedi are an annoyance but do not doubt that they too possess shrewdness. They are not fools. At least, some of them aren’t.”

“Then how will my actions on Despayre hold any lasting value Director? If the Empire will not control the Rogue Empire?”

“The Empire will not directly control the Rogue Empire, Ciscero. But we will reshape it. Reshape it to our own ends.”

They stopped before a large door simply marked “X”. Isard entered in an encryption sequence and the door slid open easily.

The room was dark but what little light that entered reflected off two small glowing red orbs.

“Your Majesty.” Isard said, bowing slightly taking Ciscero aback.

“Well…well. It is about time you recognized me for who I am!” a voice in the darkness snapped, irritably. The small red orbs turned in Ciscero’s direction and the agent felt his mind begin to prickle.

But only slightly.

“Ahh… you still have those.. those creatures around to block me. A shame. I am anxious to return now that I have satisfied all your fears. Release me now!” the voice was firm and commanding.

Ciscero’s ears detected a hint of familiarity.

The voice walked out into the light and the agent gasped.

“Emperor Fearsons!”


Isard’s eyes narrowed approvingly as the Director’s intent suddenly became clear.

“We call him ‘x’.”

But we will reshape it. Reshape it to our own ends!







.. The Empire Strikes Back…


“How do we get onto Despayre? It is not like they will accept an Imperial Transport?”

Ciscero grinned. “GDI Tranpsort. The GDI will be meeting with the Emperor on Despayre. We shall be a part of their entourage. You see, any hostilities that break out or if anything goes wrong, GDI will be the scapegoat.”

The red eyes narrowed. “So the groundwork for GDI destruction is being laid. Excellent!”

“We must hurry. The CIPs of the 256th left Muunilist already. We need to be past Togoria if we are to succeed!”





*




The Rogue Empire was in turmoil. Panic lined the streets as news of war broke out everywhere. Massive attacks reported on Jileeak Station! Hundreds or perhaps thousands of ships seeing action! A blockade at Togoria and at Yaga Minor!

The Galactic Defense Initiative thought to control matters by meeting with Fearsons himself.

Their hidden animosity for each other though was reaching new heights.


A spark is going to ignite! All it takes is one spark! thought Ciscero as he patted the rather long container that contained “Fearsons”.





*


The explosion tore through the wall rendering half of the GDI guards as well as the Emperor’s guards either dead or dying.

There was confusion and fighting, both sides not knowing what hit them or why.

The limp form of Fearsons lay before Ciscero and he paused. For a second but he paused for Isard’s instructions had been clear.

Out the new came and into the container the injured Fearson’s went. Mercenaries sporting medical uniforms threw a bloody GDI soldier’s body on top of the container and moved it like a stretch of sorts to the nearby shuttles.

Soldiers quickly entered and went to “Fearsons”, some pointing weapons at Ciscero.

“Leave me! Secure the outside ! Quickly!” was all the Emperor shouted as the words had been droned over and over in his head spilled out, before the man could think straight.

Even trained to obey at a moment’s notice they still hesitated but only for a second.

More explosions rocked outside as they left to do their leader’s bidding.

The glowing red orbs narrowed as he took in the reality of what he had spent a year learning.

He turned, his eyes flashing as the force began to surge through him the farther away the container went.

Ciscero knew the need for revenge was hungering inside of “Fearsons” but there would be time soon enough for that. He pulled out a weapon of GDI manufacture, his mask firmly in place. The mask that Isard always instructed him to wear even on the meeting of ‘X’.

By the time the Emperor regained his bearings Ciscero had shot him several times in the back, careful not to kill.

He went over and kicked the body over making sure it would be protected from one last explosion.


He threw a charge down some steps and gave him a few seconds to vacate.

He walked past the guards standing on duty so quickly that they reached out to stop him. An explosion inside threw debris at their backs knocking them over.

Ciscero ran to the GDI shuttles as they were leaving. . To one in particular.

If not for the confusion of the war they would have been caught. But for the civilian confusion all shuttles could have been identified quickly.

But explosions on the capital equated with an Imperial attack, especially with the war, that the civilian population, strung out on nerves as it was came unglued.

They knew they fought the galaxy and though they knew their Emperor would fight for them to his death only when explosions occurred on Despayre did their confidence in his ability to protect fade.

One against the galaxy!

They were Rogues and the Empire was coming for them!

So the Imperial Propaganda machine churned out and so they believed!






*



The smoke cleared, assessments made.

The Rogue Empire’s Military began to assert itself to control the growing tide of confusion.


Taken from the Propaganda Forum
Fleet Admiral Dakkon Blackblade stands aboard the flagship of an unknown ship in the Rogue Imperial Fleet. He looks distressed, but seems to be coping quite well. His dress and bearing, although academy perfect, shows signs of fatigue and wear as a cost of the war. He clears his throat slightly before stepping onto a makeshift podium to announce the future of the Rogue Empire.



"It is with much sadness that i announce that the great Emperor Chadd Fearsons is missing, believed dead. The circumstances regarding his disappearance are unknown, but the Forcelink binding myself and my Master has been severed. And such a severing can only occur through death, or something close to that.

Initially reports, although sketchy, indicate the benevolent Emperor was struck down by his adopted daughter Arai Heishi at the Royal Palace in Despayre.”


The people gasped at the news and began talking at once, each in their respective homes or businesses.

“Civil War?” someone, in some faraway district asked.

“I always hated that girl of a bitcch!!” another grumbled

“What about the @#%$ war!!” someone shouted on Averam.


As the longest serving member of the Rogue Imperial Fleet still on active duty, i am for the timebeing declaring martial law in all Rogue Imperial planets, and as such am heading up the effort to restore order in Rogue Imperial space.

But most importantly, as the interim leader of the Rogue Empire, i wish for a cessation of hostilites between any and all factions Emperor Fearsons has been at war with. With new leadership comes change, and as i understand that the New Order may wish to continue hostilities, concessions will be granted to ensure that they do infact cease hostile activity to all Rogue Imperial planets.

The Rogue Empire faces a grave challenge if it wishes to survive under an independant banner. But i will do all in my power to protect the most important asset the Rogue Empire has.


“What Tibanna Gas?” someone cynically joked.


Its people.


And there was a collective sigh of relief from many. As hard as it may have been to believe, the words did hold comfort.


Thus i will do all in my power to bring this conflict to a conclusion, no matter the cost in prestige or in any other arrogent trapings of any empire, so that no more men and women, of all races, alliegences, creeds and desires, suffer anymore of the hardships of war.

Thank you."

As he finished, it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Already the war had taken its toll on his usuall svelt and lean stature. Stepping of the makeshift podium, the interim leader of The Rogue Empire smiled, perhaps in the thought that this conflict may end. And soon...



*


Suddenly the comm chatter from all groups was cut out as a high priorirty diplomatic communique erupted from Rogue Imperial space. Where holocomms were available, the form of Fleet Admiral Dakkon Blackblade sprung up, fatigue evident on his features. Elsewhere, all they heard was his voice and as such he had to identify himself.

"This is Fleet Admiral Blackblade. As per my request earlier mourning the loss of the Emperor, i request a full cessation of hostilities.

Note that this is not an unconditional surrender. TRE is granting small territorial concessions to ensure the peace is maintained. Also, Jileeak will cease to function as soon as all troops leave. New Republic forces will be allowed to remain on board to ensure we donot attempt to use the station as they are neutral. As for GDI...

GDI can get the hell off my station.

Besbin has long been used to monopolize Tibanna gases, and i believe no such situation should exist again. As such, Besbin, if it is required to be surrendered in territorial concession making, will be ceded to Vinda Corporation, to ensure that none shall monopolise control of the Gas again. VC has long been regarded as the foremost among neutrals, and to ensure all factions in the galaxy recieve an uninterupted flow of Tibanna, they are best suited to having it.

Also, all Hapes Cluster planets are to be returned to the Cluster, as per the wishes of the Royal Family of Hapes.

As Jileeak is the cause of these problems, it will most likely be scrapped. Or, with galaxy wide assistance, the Superlaser can be rendered fully destroyed and Jileeak can then continue to serve as it was intended, as a diplomatic station. Either way we expect no external interference if and when Rogue Imperial High command do decide to do this.

TNO will NOT gain any access whatsoever to the station, due to the fact they intend to take it for themselves, and such a course of action i could not permit myself, as would no other sentient, to take.

If and when concesssions are granted, all Rogue Military hardware is to be taken with Rogue Imperial Forces as they evacuate.

While negotiations take place, i request that all fighters return to their hangars, as shall ours, and move well out of range. As should all ships. There will be a demarciation line between our forces to ensure no further conflict erupts while negotiations are happening."

Without further ado the comminique cut off, having completed its request.



The station was destroyed.

Vice Admiral Drakiss went missing.

Kaine’s fleet left Togoria.

Chau Ming’s Command left Yaga Minor.





*


“It’s been too long!” Isard fussed as reports from the war’s aftermath poured in. “And where the hell is Drakiss. Have we found anything of him!!?”

“We’ve found portions of his fleet but the destruction of Jileeak may have taken him with it.”


“Director! We are getting something!” an encryption specialist yelled.

Even Ciscero’s attention turned.

The speakers crackled.

Taken from the Propaganda Forums..

*there is a flicker as the Rogue Imperial spokesman for the Rogue Empire comes to*

We have an update as to Emperor Fearsons's condition. After two days of critical condition, the emperor's heart rate has finally returned to normal. It must be dismissed that the emperor's adoptive daughter, Arai Heishi, is behind this. Admiral Blackblade has jumped to a speedy conclusion in an attempt to reprise his dying emperor, but we must not overlook facts.

The Rogue Imperial War Congress has offered a truce to the Empire. Concessions shall be offered, but the turn over of Rogue Imperial territory is non-negotiable. The war was fought over Jilaeek, which is being turned over. Citizens are not negotiable.

The Galactic Defense Initiative's demands are deemed unreasonable, and shall be dismissed as terrorist threats. Especially since Emperor Fearsons's current condition's evidence points directly to Galactic Defense Initiative assassins, Admiral Drayson specifically. After his visit, the emperor's condition drastically fell, and several Initiatie troops have been found amidst the Rogue Empire's royal palace.

Tibanna Gas trade is to be reopened throughout the galaxy, and this pointless conflict is to be ended. There is no reason left to be fighting. These lies of corruption, deceit, and murder are just that, lies, and until those stating these lies has any basis for their arguements it is requested that they cease.

The Rogue Empire acknowledges its current defeat in the Imperial-Rogue Imperial conflict. It is requested that Imperial and Republic forces meet on neutral ground to discuss a peace treaty.

Emperor Fearsons cannot attend as his condition is still mildly critical. That is all.





A cheer rang through Krake’s Planet that day. The coup had been peformed successfully. A coup like no other.


Isard’s eyes shined with glowing anticipation.



“They made peace, Director.” Ciscero acknowledged, bowing to his superior.

Isard’s colored eyes flashed with the satisfaction of success and an increase in her own power base. “Now GDI shall fall..”

“Eliminate those that might shed light on what has happened?”

“A rule of any intelligence handbook.”


“So what happens now?”

“The power structure of the Rogue Empire changes. The way is left open to topple Despayre by moving the capital of the Rogue Empire.”

“Where? Why?”


“Because we are now going to distance Fearson’s Empire from what he envisioned and shape it to be ready for … for us.”

She turned to her agent. “Ever hear of Jutraal?”


Ciscero frowned, his mind reaching into memories. “No.” he admitted.


“You will…”




*


Taken from Propaganda Forum…


The Jutraalian Grand Inquisitor is found behind a podium, his typical guards flanking him. The symbol of the Jutraalian Empire has faded, leaving low lights to illuminate the officer.

" As the galaxy is aware, the former Emperor of the Rogue Empire and now Emperor of the Jutraalian Empire, His Majesty Lord Fearsons, has been ill for some time.

" Such, however, is a misnomer.

" He has been ill, but not from a natural disease. He has been recovering from a wound. A greivous wound to be precise, inflicted by a nearly successful assassin.

" This method of killing was found to be unique, and very commendable. A Kaminoan dart was fired from close range at Emperor Fearsons.

" The rogue and dangerously idiotic man has been identifed, and traced by (Jutraalian) Imperial police to the planet of Eriadu.

" Thusly, as said planet is not within the sphere of influence we demand his capture extradition from those responsible for this planet's rule and care.

" This is the Galactic Defense Initiative. If this criminal is not handed over without delay, the Jutraalian Empire foresees no alternative than to take him by other means.

" Know this, galactic citizens and those of Authority. Those withn our sovereignty have a high sense of honor and integrity, despite such propoganda and opinions to the contrary. A new era has dawned, as has a bolstered sense of duty and honor.

" We shall not stand by and allow the would-be murderers of our leaders to escape into the safety of a rival. If that means smashing down the brricades of territorial distiniction, then so be it.

" Victory may lie with the most powerful...

" But Justice rests in the talons of the those most dedicated."

The image faded and the symbol of Jutraal adorned the screen once again.



*





Kaine laughed at the memories.


Shape the Rouge Empire to acknowledge Imperial Power. Shape them into something desiring honor and duty.


“The Viscount works for us.” He said to Chandler. “The assimilation could not happen immediately because the people would not immediately accept it. And it would not be a choice they would make naturally. We ARE their natural enemy.

They had to be slowly convinced that the Empire is the stronger and the Empire would have to conquer them. Wrath hurt them as well as us but we recovered quicker. But even we were held at bay with Demosthesian-Jutraalian alliance. Even if this ‘x’ opposed the Demosthesians, his officers would make the treaties.

But if we conquer the Demosthesians and Jutraal separately, the truth is unequivocally planted in their minds that their destiny is with the Empire.”


Chandler chuckled. “They’ll turn to their leader for support not knowing that he is of our design.”


Kaine smiled at that. “It does make you wonder what Isard did with Chadwick Fearsons though, doesn’t it? After Ciscero brought him back from Despayre?"


"That it does Marshall. That it does."


"Approaching Despayre System." the tracking officer called out.

The Past
Coruscant System

On a world whose daily traffic volume was more than twice that of the annual volume of Tatooine, and whose single city was home to more than ten trillion beings and spread from the North Pole down to the South, broken only by a small ocean near the equator, and an even smaller mountain range in the North, one would never believe that such a thing as a forest could be seen on Coruscant.

"These," the young guide, a human man no older than thirty five, said, "are Alderaani Thistle Plants." He indicated the growths on either side of the doorway, each at least four meters tall and chalk white, with tiny thistles growing almost haphazardly out of them. "Their leaves can stun a wookie for a good half hour, the ones on the trunk can kill him."

Hiram Drayson stepped forward, leaning in beside the guide and observing the thorns. Each was perhaps three centimeters long, but their points were slight enough that they seemed to be invisible. He grimaced, backing carefully away from the plants and resting an arm on his daughter's shoulders.

"Their beautiful," she said, apparently awestruck. She was torn between the ominious deadliness of the plant, and its seductive beauty, not daring to move any closer.

"They've been dying off for the last three decades, I'm sorry to say, though." Their guide said. "They're very tempermental plants, we haven't had much luck with them outside their natural enviorment. On Alderaan, some of them would have grown to twenty meters in the wild."

He looked at the plants a moment later, then led the group away, deeper into the Atrium. With a last, lingering look, Bhindi Drayson followed.

The Past
Battle of Corellia

A hush fell across the Senate Chamber as he entered. It had been far to long since a compitent and willing being had risen to the Chancellor's platform, and he did so now only under the gravest of circumstances.

Looking out across the assembled delegates, far fewer than there should have been, he began,

"Fellow Delegates. I come before you today in the gravest of circumstances. Coruscant has fallen to the Empire, and they now assault our capital.

"The government is inept to deal with this new threat. Jeric Tantor is gone, and the new Chancellor is missing."

There was a pause as he spoke next, his voice wavering slightly.

"I therefor announce my intention to, under Security Measure 19-A, take immediate control of the New Republic and declare myself Supreme Military Chancellor. I will lay down this power immediatly after the crisis has been averted."

There was silence for a moment, before the shouting started. It was, as far as he could tell, an equal mixture of cheers and boos, but he thought he heard a hint more of the former.

He smiled gravely.

"So it begins."



The sensor boards aboard the Republic flagship were a mess now, red and blue dots so intermingled above Corellia that the system (which had cost more than a few million credits to install) was nearly useless. Ships, Star Destroyers for the most part, pummelled each other without mercy, and even as he watched the number of blue dots decreased, and at a much faster rate than did the red dots. It was, it seemed, only a matter of time until the Republic's refuge was taken. Even as the superlaser of the Twilight lanced out again, destroying another of the Empire's Super Star Destroyers, more appeared to fill the gaps. It was impossible now to see the ships flanking the flagship, so thick was the exchange of laser fire between the two sides.

"Admiral?" The voice came from beside him, and Hiram Drayson turned to look at the man who had spoken.

"Yes, Ensign?"

"We're getting a priority signal from the Chief of State's entourage. They've entered the system and are making for the flagship."

Hiram nodded, already turning away. There was a war out there, after all. By the time the Chief of State had landed and made it to the bridge, another Star Destroyer (the Challenger, which had served so well at Dantooine) was lost to the Empire, and Organa Solo stepped onto the bridge as the superlaser vaporized the Barborossa in a flash of green light.

"Why hello Drayson. I just thought we'd drop in on your little party here, and see what's going on... In case you don't recognize me, I am Jedi Master Leia Organa Solo, Chief of State of the Republic."

Drayson, for the second time, turned. His eyes held a dark malice, and he locked them onto Solo's, frowning.

"Please, save your breath, Princess. I do not have the time to deal with your wild accusation of who is a traitor and why. You yourself have not been seen by the people for months, and yet here you are, sneaking aboard a Republic warship and threatening her crew," he spared a glance to the Jedi Assassin, who still held the humming lightsaber.

"Like the majority of people on this bridge, I am busy. If you didn't notice when you arrived, those are Imperial warships out there. And I have a war to fight. If you have nothing more to say than throw accussations, then please leave my bridge or I will have you removed. We can discuss this matter later... asssuming it is relevent."

He turned away, spinning back only as the humming lightsaber picked up in tone and cut the head off a guard standing by the doors. The others fired, and were just as quickly slaughtered by the Jedi.

"Your men follow your lead, I see. Traitors stick together, or betray one another..." She said, lowering the weapon.

"On the contrary, Drayson. I am here in the best interests of the Republic. And if you do not surrender control of this fleet to me and it's rightful officers immediately, your fate will be similar to that of the other treasonous nerfherders that were just dealt justice."

He smiled now, as she yanked her own weapons from her belt and held them a breath from Hiram's throat and chest, her smile wicket, a strange gleam of triumph in her eyes.

"Surrender your stolen command, ex-admiral Drayson. The Republic has no need for your arrogant assumptions, as well as your treacherous and treasonous acts."

And when he didn't move, the two weapons shot forward, and Hiram Drayson's crumpled body collasped onto the cold steel deck of the Republic flagship, all of it recorded by the bridge security cameras, all of it placed in half a dozen archives that would, eventually, become property of the New Order.

The Present
En-route to Commenor

Bhindi Drayson watched the recording end, glaring at the now-blank screen. There had, of course, been no survivours after Organa Solo and her 'Jedi' friend had destroyed the Republic's first bridge crew, but the knowledge of the happenings on the bridge had spread fast enough.

Still, to actually see it, the Chief of State who had been missing (practising lifting rocks in the air, no doubt) slaughtering her father as he tried to defend the Republic she claimed to serve...

"It's ironic, isn't it then, that the Republic lasted under Organa Solo only long enough to be decimated by Tilaric Brell at Bastion and die out." Godridge said. He had slipped into this Imperial persona so easily in the last month.

Bhindi said nothing, but nodded sardonically. The Republic had lost the Battle of Corellia in the hours following Organa Solo's arrival, only the flagship and a handful of her escorts escaping to fight at Bastion.

"Ironic." She frowned. "Now, we must destroy what it left of it. Forever."



The fleet emerged from hyerpsace with practised ease, lining up along with those ships under Theren Gevel's command and facing the world of Commenor in front of them.

"All ships reporting active and ready, Admiral." Captain Joda reported eaglery, eying the world in front with great distaste. His own mother had been an officer on the Twilight's bridge during the Battle of Corellia.

"Shields up, weapons on-line." She ordered. "Prepare to engage the enemy."