The Present
Commenor

Another of the Star Destroyers erupted brilliantly, the radiation-blocking tint of the Zenith’s viewports automatically adjusting itself to compensate for the sudden star-like glow of the massive ship’s combustion. Theren didn’t waste time in continuing to issue orders. “Move the fighters forward, into the breach, as many as possible,” he said. “And prepare the Viking –” a Corona-Class Frigate, “– into position at the apex of Battle Group Alpha. Have them prepare to follow the fighters into the breach when I give my single.”

Battle Group Beta, having dispatched the four Star Destroyers she was assigned to attack using the immense advantage gained by the micro-jump tactics employed by Theren, had rounded about and closed in on the flank of the group of vessels that Alpha Group, accompanied by the Black Fleet, now battled against. In total, another four Star Destroyers and a vast number of support craft including Dreadnaughts and Corellian Corvettes faced them down, forming an intimidating group, despite being surrounded. But the core of the Demosthesian combatants was a behemoth ship of foreign design; the Matriarch-Class Battle Cruiser Demosthenes. As the pride and joy of the Demosthesian fleet, it was both the primary target, and the target demanding the most care in the disabling thereof.

But now the forces of the Holy Demosthesian Empire were split down the center, dangerously divided in a way that Theren would not hesitate to exploit. “Have all fighters target capital craft. Weapon systems should be primary targets, as well as shield generators.” The breach in the Demosthesian defenses left by the vanquished Star Destroyer was to the right of the Demosthenes, though the support craft on either side of the breach greatly outnumbered the larger targets, forming something of a barrier.

Several more ships exploded in the distance, to the rear of the Demosthesian formation. They were now fighting a battle from both sides, a position which had crippled whatever tactical plans they’d once had and left them with little more than their vast numbers to assist them, though even that aspect was quickly dwindling. “Order all captains to disable if at all possible. Liberal use of Ion cannons.”

A variety of explosions could now be seen erupting on the vessels to either side of the breach. Theren watched this take place for a few moments, occasionally issuing vague directives to the crew of the Zenith regarding the fighters which were now gaining victory in the sea of space that separated the warring fleets…



The Past
Coruscant
Six hours before the Battle of Bastion

“Imperial High Command has placed a great deal of trust in you, Vice-Admiral Vikar, in assigning command of this battle to you – trust that, I do not need to tell you, many feel you have not earned. Your service record is… less than exemplary, as is your character according to several prominent members of the admiralty.” Admiral Kroth peered at Vikar over the report in his hand. Only the shimmering lights of Coruscant night served to illuminate the office, which, in stark contrast with the offices of most admirals, did not reside in one of the towering buildings that typically marked the home of the current ruling party of Imperial Center, but one of the more diminutive structures.

“But here I am,” Vikar said. “Funny, isn’t it? Where are the snide remarks, now, I wonder? Why do I suddenly find myself on Coruscant and not some backwater world in the outer rim?”

“You are only adding verification to the reputation you don’t seem to feel that you’ve earned,” Kroth replied dubiously. Vikar, who had lost his rank as an Admiral when he’d disobeyed a direct order and taken a route less dangerous to his men, was known among the military aristocracy of the Empire as a rogue element, a dangerously fringe member of the navy retained only for his skill in command.

“As if I need to do that.” Kroth was at least fifteen years younger than the aging Vikar, and a great deal more pompous. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. How many other commanders do you have with experience in this sort of mass command?”

“A few, I dare say.”

“Commanders who aren’t pinned down in the Rim by the Wrath Virus? Who haven’t joined Brel or been killed by him? Narrowing the field now, aren’t I?”

Kroth scowled. “Simon Kaine could easily lead this operation. The Regent himself has a great deal of experience in this field.”

Vikar laughed. “But you don’t see them here, do you? No, Admiral, I know exactly why I’ve been chosen for this mission when there are at least half a dozen others who could do the job, if not quite as well.”

“And what’s that?” Kroth asked sarcastically.

“It’s a suicide mission.” Vikar said simply. “We’re facing overwhelming odds, fighting alongside enemies that have become uneasy allies, people that we’ve double-crossed so many times even the greenest recruit wouldn’t bat an eyelash if they turned on us. Even if we win, Command is expecting at least sixty percent casualties. What happens if we go in and don’t come back?”

“The Republic is sending Gash Jiren. They seem to feel that this mission is within the realm of possibility.”

“Jiren is as suicidal as a Swoop pilot. He’d face down the Galactus in a snubfighter.”

Kroth shrugged. “Whether or not either of us feels that this mission is likely to be accomplished, or even possible to be accomplished, you have agreed to spearhead it. Whether or not you are suddenly fearing for your life, I would remind you that disobeying the regent would likely be more deadly.”

“Oh, you misunderstand me, Admiral,” Vikar said. “I have no intention of dying today, or any other day for a very long time to come. I’m going to come back, if only just to spite you, and the rest of your friends.”

“Charming.” Kroth abruptly changed the subject. “Now, Vice-Admiral, I have reviewed your list of line commanders. I note several absences – and presences – that I think may disturb members of High Command.”

“And what would those be?” Vikar asked sweetly.

“Firstly, Tethen Astol is not on this list. Why?”

“Because he’s a pampered dandy-boy from Brentaal who hasn’t done a damn thing to earn his post.”

“Commodore Shyle personally appointed him to the post of Captain. Aside from the immense amount of respect Shyle demands at the level of the admiralty, this was done at the behest of a number of other prominent members of the Imperial navy, including Admiral Wellandt.”

Vikar fixed Kroth with a dubious glare. “And?”

“And he needs to be on this list, or you’re not taking off.”

“Fine with me,” Vikar said, smiling contentedly. “Good luck getting someone else to command this mission in the next – ” he glanced at his wrist chronometer “ – five hours and fifty-one minutes.”

Kroth’s eyes narrowed, but he moved on. “Secondly, Captain Ak’nomal is on this list. Why?”

“Because he is one of the finest warriors I have ever had the pleasure of serving with. Having him there instead of your friend Astol will save hundreds of Imperial lives.”

“He is a Mandalorian.”

“A dying breed, unfortunately, but yes, he is. It disheartens me to put him on the frontlines of a battle he may very well not return from, but, extreme circumstances…”

“But he is a Mandalorian,” Kroth repeated, as if this said it all.

“Repeating yourself can be a sign of insanity.”

Kroth scowled. “However close Mandalorians are to humans – almost identical, I admit, in some ways – they are not human. Ak’nomal is one of the few of his race to join the Imperial Navy, and it is only because of his immense skill he has been permitted. Permitted, Vice-Admiral, not accepted.”

“Where do you think your beloved Stormtroopers came from?”

Kroth grunted but said nothing.

“And it’s because of his ‘immense skill’ that he will help to lead the charge into Bastion.”

Kroth scowled again, and his eyes scanned down the datapad in his hand. “And then we have Captain Gevel.”

Vikar nodded.

“You know my personal opinion on this man. He is an academic. He was born in the slums of Coruscant, and he has acted like it every day of his life. Commander Shyle is his current commander, and can attest to this.”

“I personally selected Gevel for this mission. He’s a fine commander, one of the best I’ve ever come across. His talent is natural.”

“Be that as it may, he is considered to be of questionable loyalty. Some consider him unfit for command.” Kroth shook his head. “He is not the kind of man we wish to help lead the charge in one of the most important operations in Imperial – in galactic history.”

“I’ve never seen any evidence that his loyalty would ever waver.”

“Commodore Shyle – who, I would note, knows him considerably better than you – has.”

Vikar shrugged. “I don’t trust Commodore Shyle any further than I could throw him. Do you have some sort of problem with the poor?”

Kroth looked perturbed. “I have no problem with the poor, Vice-Admiral. But Gevel’s low origins would seem to have altered his mindset in an unfavorable fashion. You know as well as I of his habit of disrespecting his superiors. We have a great deal of evidence to suggest that both his time in lower Coruscant and his time as an academic have turned him against the leaders of the Empire in an… ideological manner.”

“Heh,” Vikar chuckled. “Now, are you talking about his loyalty to you and Shyle, or to the Empire?”

“I see no difference.”

“I do. Gevel is one of the most dedicated commanders I have ever come across. But not only does he prepare well, he executes well. He is daring enough to implement any plan, any course of action, that will lead him to victory. Do you know why that is?”

“No.”

“Because he believes in his cause. He will throw everything his has into a battle, every bit of wit and talent and tactical ability, without reservation. Which is what sets him apart from Astol and his like.”



The Present
Commenor

The blistering fire across the Demosthesian vessels bordering on the breach in their formation did nothing to spur them to close the gap. The litany of fighters that now occupied that space was doing an admirable job of holding back resistance. Now was Theren’s chance. “Move the Viking into the breach, full speed, covering fire to either side.”

Tornel cleared his throat. “You don’t want to move it into assault position?”

“No,” Theren replied, smiling slightly. “I don’t. Engineering, prepare the Zenith’s engine for a sudden burst of speed.”

Off to the Zenith’s right, one of the Corona-Class Frigates’ aft quarters exploded, sending the vessel fishtailing out of the battle uncontrollably. “You can’t be about to do what I think you’re about to do.”

The Viking shot forward, blazing a trail up through the gap in the Demosthesian formation. Numerous shots lanced towards it, though her own unfocused fire did little against the enemy defenses. The vessel’s blue sphere of energy had begun to become more transparent as the ship was bombarded, but the superior speed allowed it to pass through the breach relatively unharmed. “Now,” Theren said. “Move the Zenith into the breach. Full power to thrusters, and order Admiral Drayson and her Black Fleet to prepare to close range with the two separated Demosthesian formations and engage at close range.”

Tornel noticed a wicked gleam in his commander’s eye as the Zenith shot forward, out of formation, into the breach. “Open fire on all available targets,” Theren ordered, as they began to come into range. Turbolasers bristling, the vessel plunged into the fray, almost recklessly, and shots began pouring forth between both sides.

Zero Hour

Despayre System

Watchtower 13




The Day of Light had come and Petty Officer Darien was excluded from the festivities happening on most of the facilities closer to homeworld, the gem of the dark christened Despayre.

"Not bloody fair." he murmured. He'd been too drunk when he gambled his leave away with one of those damned ground-crunchers of the Marirines.

They enjoyed his leave while he was bloody stuck to doing is duty.

Which, truth be told, would not have been so bad had it not been Watchtower 13.

Hinter Space the Navy now called it.

Nevermind that it used to be the lifeline of the homeworld.

Nevermind that it was once the most protected routes in all of their empire.

But Wrath had changed that.

What was once a lifeline was now the string of death that had gripped the homeworld as merchant ships from all over entered their space.

Not that the Jutraalian Empire knew any more than the Empire did how to combat the loathsome disease other than the quarantine orders that came from the Capital World, Jutraal.

But Despayre was THE homeworld. The birthplace of the Rogue Empire. The birthplace of all the glory Jutraal claimed for itself.

The Day of Light was a celebration of the Emperor Fearsons founding of the Shadow Jedi, their name an irony to the name chosen for the holiday.

A time of renewal and ... of refit.

The Fleet had been recalled and given orders for dry dock.

The wealth that Jutraal was releasing to care for the vessels of war that protected every Jutraalian citizen was enough to leave the small factions of the galaxy bankrupt and penniless.

Darien had seen the mighty flagships of ten sectors escorted into the large berths of the massive shipyard complex surrounding homeworld.

Their crews on leave, the mighty defenses that once guarded the "lifeline" set to guard the more practical routes to Averam and Jutraal.

With the loss of Togoria to the demon of an Imperial, Simon Kaine, the "lifeline" had been effectively cut. Shipping had to be redirected but even Wrath took the threat posed by the Empire so low it was barely seen.

Rumor had it Togoria was run by some local warlord but as yet the Emperor, in his wisdom, had not deigned to reclaim the planet.

Not that it was Darien's concern... much.

That was why he still guarded Hinter Space though.

The off chance of a "what if".

However, the only blips, aka-signs of life from the once vaunted lifeline, were stray merchants with outdated knowledge of the changes in protocal and procedures in the region of the galaxy.


Sure enough, his computer sounded an irritating alarm

"Six bloody ships!" grumbled Darien. Hardly of a size worth mentioning. But the little buggers did have an erratic course.

"Watchtower 13 to unidentified vessels. Call sign and registration are demanded or you will be destroyed!" he said with less enthusiasm than the Jutraal Handbook of Protocol for Watchtower Stations recommended.

Part of him thought, with what?

Only a skeleton fleet remained on active duty though clearly enough to destroy the intruders the question that would be running through their minds would be...why?


Darien was so lost in his thoughts, he failed to realize that the ships had not answered his hail but then, they were heading toward his station.

By their specs, they were no threat to the station but something was odd.

They did not read like merchants or transports.. or any yacht he had ever heard of.

"What the.."

The sensors suddenly jumped off the scale and Darien flew out of his chair.

Gravity Wells!!


"What the bloody--"


Something flickered... shimmered..


and if the alarms were annoying before, they were unbearable now.


A shadow fell over Watchtower 13 as Darien scrambled to send out an alert..

only to find static coming over his communications.


It was a localized event, not system-wide since he was still receiving even civilian comm traffic runnoff even that far out ..but he just couldn't send.


The shadow darkened the view ports of Watchtower 13 and he turned to witness the largest vessel he had ever seen coming toward him.

Rogue Empire symbol and the Fearsons Wreath emblazoned on the bow of the massive ship.

"What the bloody.." was all Darien had time say as the massive ship crushed the tiny one man outpost as if it were not there.


Five massive shadows continued on their course as the six ships left behind did their odd little dance of the gravity wells.


Behind them, the ships of the Empire emerged from hyperspace.


"One of these days, Kaine, you are going to kill us with that maneuver." Captain Sveli murmured, causing a grin to crease Simon's face.


"Shield ships approaching on schedule. Their shadows must be touching the planet soon."

"So much for the Day of Light.." Kaine murmured back.

Battle of Commenor

War, they always said, was a terrible experiance. The deaths, sometimes coming so fast that one had only time to blink before the fire consumed their insignificant lives, some slow, giving the victim time to reflect on his life, and to consider what would become of him, his family, and the rest.

Bhindi Drayson, presiding over the battle almost as if she were the Master of Ceremonies to a truly excellent Space Ballet, found it hard to agree with the old ones who called war terrible. She revelled in it. The way a single command could spell certain death for a thousand men, how even in the most controlled of battles, new twists could always come up and challenge the commander's ability, her readiness to order her men to their deaths in the fire and vacuum that awaited many of them. She was always ready.

Standing on the far end of the command walkway of the Nirvana, removed only by the durasteel walkway strung over the heads of the bridge crew members, she was in her prime. Ships, mamoth Imperial Star Destroyers and small, one-man fighters, moved at her beck and call, forming into a tight wedge with which to hammer the attack home.

She had served in many battles, and all had their place in the caverns of her mind. But now, she was facing off against her own. Some of the people aboard the ships she battled she had known personally, become friends with. There were, she thought with a slight smile, even some aboard the enemy ships that she had slept with.

"Admiral?" Captain Joda, who had followed his commander from the Demosthesian Military and into her defection to the New Order, and now to command her new flagvessel, stood at attention just behind her. Thirty-five years with the Imperial Navy had given him the posture (and arrogance) of a true Imperial.

"Captain Joda." She nodded. "Is it good to be home?" He was a native of Commenor, but both of them knew that was not what she meant.
"It is, Admiral. I had forgotten how magnificent the New Order truly was." Bhindi smiled.
"Gloria Imperium." She said softly. There was a silence as the ships continued to trade fire with their former friends, and then Joda spoke again.
"Commodore Gevel requests that we move our fleet element forward and engage the enemy at close range." Bhindi snorted. Theren Gevel, the Empire's man of the day, it seemed, would no sooner request anything of her than he would stop being an outspoken son of a @#%$, military genius.
"We'll do them one better, Captain. Move the fleet to Sector One-A. Scorpion formation." Joda nodded and moved away.

Turning back to the viewports, Bhindi watched one of the enemy gunships explode in a brilliant array of red and orange flames and glowing plasma. War really was a beautiful thing.

Governors Palace, Corellia, Corellian Protectorate.

"But sir, this is a gross misuse of the Protectorates resour..."

The mans neck snapped back as invisable hands grasped his throat and lifting him off the ground. Immediatly his hands flew up to his neck, clutching wildy in a vain hope of redemption. His neck strained with the strength of a dying man and his body tensed in one last struggle against the eternal darkness. Suddenly his body crumpled, and all that could be heard was the heavy intakes of breath as the aide attempted to regain his composure.

"Realise, worm, that the use of the Protectorates resources is entirely my decision, only the Regent himself can countermand my order."

The Hapan snarled, his anger blossoming as it had many times since his arrival on Corellia, his cape swirling in the breeze as he turned and continued on his route leaving the aide behind him. Another came forward to take his place.

"What resources have we been able to free up for the garrison?"

The aide did not break stride, already knowing the answer to the Governors question.

"General Mishkin has been retasked along with the 3rd Corellian Legion. 2 Armoured Divisons of the 503rd have also been retasked.

Also, as per your orders, 2 Inquisitoriate Prison Ships have also been prepared to establish an inquisitorate presence on the planet."

Lupercus smiled, knowing that Admiral Desaria would appreciate being given the intelligence edge over ISB in Xa Fel. In all honesty, they would not be useful, TNSOs Sith were the ultimate revolt deterant, although one could never be too careful.

"Send Admiral Telan Desaria my thanks in regards to his speedy response."

The aide nodded, his hands already dancing across his datapad with the fury of a demon.

"The 11th Destroyer Floatilla has also completed its running up exercises. As per your instructions, the majority of the fleet will be moving in its own specific quadrants, eliminating all non-loyal presences. The units 3rd squadron has been tasked with the assault. Its their strike line."

"Numbers?"

The aides response was just as curt, as if the numbers were permanently etched on his brain.

"The Imperial Star Destroyers Corruption and Conquerer, along with the Victory Classes Victorious, Wardog, Emperors Will and Glorious.

Additionally, we have secured the services of the 408th Fighter Wing for rebasing to Xa Fel. Imperial High Command believes that since we are reestablishing Imperial presence on the planet, a ground based air presence could spawn a native self sustaining service, and as such has ordered that the IEC Hive act as the wings home until the Defenders revetments are completed."

Lupercus smiled as he stepped out onto the tarmac. In the sun sat his ship, the Tequila Sunrise, its polished chrome finish causing those who looked upon it to squint in pain.

"Excellent work."

The aide made sure not to react to the praise.

"As proof of your skills, you are hereby premoted..."

Lupercus saw a momentary break of composure from the elated aide.

"...to the position of 'Aide to the Governor- Xa Fel'."

Lupercus swelled with pride as he saw the mans heart break. It was a dead end promotion, but he knew he could not deny it without being killed. He swallowed nervously before replying.

"Thank you Sir!"

The Sith dismissed the man with a wave of his perfectly manicured hands.

"I am leaving for Coruscant. Notify me when the Operation is completed. I have full faith that it will be completed before its thursday deadline."

Minutes later the shuttle was rushed through customs and disappeared along with many other traders and travellers towards the jewel of the Galaxy.

Coruscant.

2 days later, Naboo Sith Order Temple, Xa Fel.

"Operation completed."

The voice was precise and its tone was completely even.

"90% of the planets prefabricated garrison bases have been assembled and are operational. The rest should be online by tomorrow. Reports indicate that the 408ths revetments should be fully completed by the 12th, and the base can begin preliminary operations by the 9th."

"And Operation Neighbourhood Watch?"

This voice was deeper, although sounding slightly more distracted.

"We found one small pirate base. Approximately 23 snubfighters, and a CR-90a Corvette. Both were destroyed with minimal damage done. Also struck two smugglers and we found what looks like a disused Rebel Alliance base, over 30 years old from appearances. The officer in charge sent down a boarding party, and is awaiting instructions."

Sounds could be heard of movement from the other man as he thought. It was a lucky find, and it would bring the Governor favour from many areas.

"Have them secure the facility and dispatch the location immediately to the Inquisitorate on Xa Fel. Perhaps they may well find some use for the information there.

Tell me, how has the early stages of Indiginous Power gone?"

There was no reply immediately as the man fumbled around, searching for the specific figures.

"Uh...

Reports indicate that since the spectacular arrival of Imperial Order to Xa Fel, projected Protectorate military size has increased by more than the alloted figures. 11.23435% of the viable population has volunteered, primarily for the army.

By next year, by completion of the operations first stage, Xa Fels defensive capabilities will be entirely self contained. 5 Legions worth of men will have been completed, as well as over 700,000 naval personel.

Projected growth tapers off and plateaus in the next 10 years.

Also, as requested, Imperial Supply Organisation has compiled production statistics for the Xa Fel region. Small arms are enough to meet training requirements, but the majority of specialised or heavy equipment will have to be assembled off planet.

But projected growth as a result of the Operation should remain on par with expectations."

The conversation continued for an hour or two more, the Moff of the Corellian Protectorate ending the discussion with a simple disconnection.

Xa Fel was once again under Imperial control.

Commenor
The Zenith
Internal Command Cabin

The Zenith vibrated slightly beneath his feet, but Theren didn’t budge. He stood stoically over a holographic depiction of the battle at Bilbringi, even as the battle about them continued to rage. “Order them to make their final thrust forward, in the formation rehearsed,” Theren finally said, and one of the men within the command cabin began to relay the orders.

“Are you sure that that is wise, sir?” One of the officers surrounding the holographic display asked. “It may be somewhat early in the battle to ensure success.”

“This is a war of bold moves, Captain,” Theren replied coolly. “If even one fucking Demosthesian ship leaves that system without being under our control, I consider this operation a failure. We can’t count on the coincidental surrender of H.D.E.’s outlying territories without completely eliminating the threat of their military.”

“Yes, sir.”

Immediately, Theren set off from the bridge. As he walked, he grabbed the comm link from his waist. “Tornel, let’s hear it,” he said, squeezing into the closing door of a turbolift. The three other occupants saluted.

“We’ve just been executing the moves you ordered. The Star Destroyer Vilification has taken a lot of punishment, but we have her clear. The Demosthesian fleet is crippled, but still fighting.”

Theren nodded. “I’ll be up in a moment.”

One of the men on the turbolift asked, “All is going well, sir?”

“It’ll be going better when they surrender.”



“Disable that vessel with ion cannons, divert all turbolaser fire away from it,” were Theren’s first words as he rushed onto the bridge. The Zenith was now at the center of the massive breach in the Demosthesian formation, and green and red turbolaser fire, in conjunction with the more brilliant fire of detonating vessels, had engulfed the viewports.

The vessel in question seemed to be one of the bizarre Demosthesian designs, and great multicolored sparks of electricity immediately began to race across her bow, as she gradually spun from the battle. On either side of the Zenith, a number of similar craft also fought alongside the Empire, strangely blurring the lines of battle.

Combat raged on, the Imperial vessels pressing the lines of the Demosthesians on both sides further and further back, crushing both groups from all sides. Casualties were sustained, but the destruction and disabling of enemy ships far outnumbered the damage sustained to the Imperials. In effect, the enemy fleet had been beaten to a point that there could be no possible victory. They seemed to sense this, yet fought onward, holding their capital with distinction.

“They’re hailing us, Commodore,” Tornel said, distracting his commander for an instant from his concentration on the battle at hand. “Fleet command, not the battle fleet. From the planet itself.”

Theren frowned. “Not Ashar?”

“Not Ashar.”

Theren’s eyes narrowed, and he scanned the great orb that was Commenor, as if searching for the absentee commander. Intelligence had indicated that Ashar was on his capital, as he was normally to be found there. “Where are you?” He muttered to himself, before turning to Tornel. “Put them through.”

He stepped over to the holoprojector, and the miniaturized image of a portly man in a Demosthesian uniform appeared. “This is Admiral Del’fyzar of the Holy Demosthesian Empire. You are Commodore Gevel?”

“Yeah, I am,” Theren replied. The enemy commander seemed to be sizing him up, as if he’d expected something different – which, Theren reminded himself, he probably had been. Commodore Gevel, with a day’s worth of stubble on his face, did not at all appear to be the very model of a modern major general.

“I, as acting Supreme Commander of Demosthesian Military Forces, do hereby request a cessation of hostilities, that conditions of surrender may be negotiated.” The man stated the words as if they’d been rehearsed, weighing them carefully.

Now it was Theren’s turn to visually evaluate his adversary. The man was not the commander of the fleet he was battling, or the ‘Emperor’ Seti Ashar himself, but an Admiral who wanted to discuss surrender on behalf of the military. Theren glanced back at Tornel for a moment, who shrugged. “No, Admiral. I’m not here for conditional surrenders. Cut transmission.”

Tornel looked at Theren incredulously as the protesting admiral disappeared. “What are you doing? That was our victory!” He said.

Theren shook his head. “No. Ashar sends us some no-name admiral to surrender on behalf of the military forces? They’ve been ordered to negotiate a surrender. Ashar is planning to live to fight another day. We’re not here to do significant damage to the Demosthesian Empire, we’re here to destroy it. The only way the outlying Demosthesian systems will surrender to us will be if the military is gone. Destroyed. There can’t be a threat that tomorrow, Ashar will be back to retaliate against the planets that gave up on him. And if we start negotiating a surrender, one of the conditions will be Ashar’s escape – and it won’t be the sort of condition we can agree or disagree on.”

Theren turned away from Tornel, and ordered, “Continue hostilities.”



The enormous durasteel creature blazed its way through the intersecting streets, all eight of its appendages working furiously to ferry it along, as the laser cannons protruding from each of its eight leg joints and from the underbelly of the main pod fired constantly. Just beyond it, several small mechanized units and a number of enemy troops were thrown away wildly, as a pair of explosions from these blasts ruptured their defense. One of the legs of the MT-AT swooped out as it continued forward, rending its way through the durasteel and duracrete of one of the buildings. In the path cleared by the walker, red-armored troops rushed forward, adding their own blasts to the mix.

Hundreds of meters behind, perched above the city in the cockpit of an Imperial walker, was Theren Gevel, observing the combat placidly. “Order units three and four up the street two blocks east, two hundred meter advance. Force all of the enemy units into one position.” He thought a moment. “And order unit two to be more careful. I don’t want mass civilian casualties.”

Though the MT-ATs were generally manufactured for use in mountainous areas, Theren had found that, given their agility, speed, and maneuverability, they were also well suited to combat in urban areas where walkers were liable to be tripped or cause mass damage. The Demosthesian fleet itself lay derelict in the space beyond Commenor, several hours dead. The orbital shipyards and the vessels decommissioned by ion cannon fire had afforded the Empire a significant haul in terms of newly acquired craft.

“Now, order a targeted orbital strike from the Zenith on their position, there,” Theren said, pointing. “One blast only. I don’t want the city destroyed.”

And, from the sky above, a green turbolaser blast lanced down into the city in front of them, causing a considerable explosion as it struck the enemy defenses. “All units forward,” Theren said, and from underneath and around the walker, many more MT-ATs and Tank Droids – another relatively unused design Theren had resurrected – cut forth into the city.

One of the MT-ATs, in its haste – or perhaps intentionally – swung one of its massive legs through the knees of a very large, gaudy statue. With a heave, it gave way, crumbling down upon itself. And, in the distance, the very image of Seti Ashar fell to its demise.



Two Days Later

The real Seti Ashar met an equally anonymous fate only hours later, as the energy shield guarding his complex was destroyed by Imperial walkers and the full force of the Empire was brought down upon him. Theren had already had the other Demosthesian complexes searched and, once assured by a number of surrendered (and perhaps threatened) military officials and a number of his personal slicers that all helpful intelligence files had been downloaded by universally accessible terminals at other vital locations, and that the only thing of vital importance holed up in Governor’s Palace was Ashar himself, gave the order to have it destroyed. Perhaps just for show, Theren had seven different vessels fire down into the complex – including the flagship of the vengeful Bhindi Drayson herself – creating a detonation that could be and was seen for miles.

Footage of the smoldering ashes and the orbital strike that had created them was taken and broadcast across the galaxy, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that the Demosthesian Empire was, in fact, finished. It was a spectacle, created for the entertainment of the people; created to ensure allegiance to the Empire when emissaries arrived in outlying systems. The remaining Demosthesian governmental outposts on Commenor surrendered with little fanfare after witnessing the glorified destruction of their leader. The official written surrender of the Holy Demosthesian Empire was forwarded to the desks of Simon Kaine and Regent Daemon Hyfe.

And, in the wake of it all, the shuttle of Admiral Kroth arrived in on Commenor with a fighter escort. The man himself strode into Theren’s temporary office on the surrendered world as if he himself had shot Seti Ashar in the face. “Commodore Gevel, word of your exploits have reached my ears. Well done; I come with congratulations on behalf of the Regent, and the Grand Marshall.”

“Do you, now,” Theren said, looking wearily up at Kroth. It was no secret that Kroth, along with a good portion of everyone in High Command who counted Kroth as a respected colleague, disliked Theren immensely. Unfortunately, it was also no secret that this group was directly responsible for his command. “Kroth, I think you’d as soon come to my office, halfway across the core, to congratulate me as you would to get on one fucking knee and ask me to marry you. Whatever you have to say, say it.”

Kroth did not blink, nor did his vague smile and lofty mood falter. “Very well, then. While the Regent –”

“You, you mean.” Theren interrupted. Kroth had a way of mistaking his feelings for that of the entire Empire.

“There is, you’ll find, very little difference. While the Regent acknowledges your hand in this happy occurrence, he must also conclude that a good portion of the credit must go to Admiral Bhindi Drayson, and the vessels she provided.”

“I’m sure he does,” Theren replied coolly.

“And I would sincerely doubt,” Kroth added, “that you personally persuaded Miss Drayson to throw her hat into the Imperial ring.” He chuckled slightly, being that the notion was ridiculous.

“Of course.”

“Then you will understand,” Kroth continued, looking as if Life Day had come early, “That I am not ordering an increase of rank as a result of this. While your performance was… commendable, it must be remembered that you did act without directly notifying Imperial High Command, which is frowned upon. It was only through Grand Marshall Simon Kaine that we learned of your plans at all. And, of course, you have already turned down one promotion, which was not good for High Command’s image – not good at all.” The promotion he spoke of, of course, was one which would have resulted in Theren being moved to the outer rim and stripped of command of the Bastion Conclave.

Theren smiled slightly. The fact that he governed a protectorate within the Empire exempted him from the portion of Imperial military protocols that Kroth was attempting to invoke, but it would do him little good to argue. “Of course.”

“Very well, then. Good day.” Admiral Kroth strode from the office as quickly as he’d come, stopping only momentarily to nod in passing to Lieutenant Tornel, as the other man entered.

“He’s done already?” Tornel asked.

“The fucking idiot was just here to tell me that I will not be receiving an increase in rank.”

Tornel frowned. “He came all the way from Coruscant just to gloat?”

“Apparently. I’d never marked Kroth as a bright one, anyway.”

“Oh, well. No surprise, either way. Admiral Elansivek arrived with him. He’ll be on the planet for a little while, setting up new garrisons and rebuilding a bit of damaged infrastructure, so you can expect him to stop by, too.”

Theren nodded. It didn’t really matter.

Whether or not Kroth could admit it out loud, Theren knew that the other man, in his heart of hearts, was aware that Theren had accomplished what many would consider to be impossible, and collaborated directly with Grand Marshall Kaine in doing so – an act which had involved going straight over Kroth’s head.

He’d done the impossible, and lived. If only to spite Kroth.

Despayre

Zero Hour..



"Activate the shield ship extenders." Admiral Chandler's voice was heard over the operations channel as Kaine studied the scanning reports on the outlay of the space surrounding Despayre.


"Shield ships are flanking the Jutraalians fleet."


"They know were are here."


"They know the shield ships are here.." Kaine corrected.


Intercept fighters were launched to check the oncoming gargantuan vessels. They had about as much success as a fly would stopping a Jawa Crawler.

The first shield ship, unable to deploy fully before covering the distance to the planet, hit squarely the first shipyard. The mighty sector flagships of the Jutaalian Empire in dry dock could not be powered up to launch in time. Two of the vessels had ordered the mooring lines severed in an attempt to bring the ships out on what little thruster inertia they could.


It was not enough and they began to break apart.


One yard was pushed against another as the inertia of the shield ship carried it continuously forward. Debris of all sorts scattered at the impact areas and explosions began to rip whatever structure remained apart.


The first shield ship was breaking up as the planet's gravity began to take hold of the debris, pulling at the shipyards, the flag ships, and the shield ship alike.


Shield ships three and four had deployed, casting a shadow over the planet, darkening whole sections of continents. Coupled with the monstrous debris falling into the planet's atmosphere, it seemed as if large meteors fell to Despayre's surface burning with a fury.


Panic set in as the celebrating throngs witnessed the impact of one large shipyard piece slammed into a country side scattering fire in all directions.


"Jam transmissions sir?"


"No, Lieutenant. Let their panic fester to a boiling point."


"Planetary shields have not been raised."


"Intercept fighters had to be launched from the planet's surface and the heavy civilian traffic between the orbital stations and the planet would interfere." Kaine turned to the Communications Officer. "Launch tactical squadrons now. Take their sensor stations! Leave their comms alone."


Three super destroyers fell to the surface, burning wreckage from the friction in the atmosphere, leftovers from the disentigrating shipyards. Their impact brought an explosion more brilliant than anything ever seen on Despayre's surface.


"Nuclear Atomics?" one Major asked aboard the Victory.


"No, Major." Admiral Chandler responded, his focus on the shield ship disruption of Despayre's defenses. "Basic starship engineering of star drive power systems."

The Admiral turned briefly to his underofficer. "Do you know how much power capital ships engines put out? The weapon systems alone are a merely a fraction of a starship's total power output. An exploding starship is more devestating than
it's turbolasers. The reason that it's easy to live through is the power outlet of an exploding ship is uncontrolled in all directions whereas turbolasers and missiles are guided and precise." Chandler grinned for minute. "At least, most of the time."

He pointed to a sensor reading. "But having those ships explode against a planet's surface, the uncontrolled explosion is maximized against our enemy."


The third capital ship struck the surface, sending a large bright white then yellow light out against the shadow that enveloped Despayre.

"Sir, Galactus orders all shield ships to continue advancing...."


Admiral nodded. "He means to ram the bloody things into the planet."


"Sir! Sensors indicate a field trying to strengthen around certain cities!"


"Planetary Shield?"


"Or what's left of their generators."


"They are writing off parts of the planet opting to protect their major population centers. Or at the very least, their command and control centers."


"Enemy ships! Bearing on the shield ships!"


"Sir! The Galactus.. the order is 'go, go, go.'!"


"ALL COVERING SQUADRONS LAUNCH! ALL CAPITAL SHIPS ENGAGE!!" Chandler barked out, the ships under his command moving to carry out the order.


Deadly lights lanced out from the direction of the old lifeline shipping lane to catch the defending ships by surprise.


"Flank them! Flank them!"



*


The battle raged for two hours. The defenders did succeed in breaking up one shield ship before it entered the atmosphere though pieces rained down upon a ravaged surface. Shield Ships two, four and five struck cities breaking through the weakened force fields.

Civilian comm chatter interfered with the Jutraalian military.. civilian panic delaying and sometimes routing military aid to sections critical to the defense of Despayre.


With massive gaps torn into the defense Despayre, the defending military units tried delaying tactics until reinforcements could arrive.

Whole planetside brigades waited the planetdrop of the invasion but it never came. One Star Destroyer pummeled the ground at certain sections destroying whole sections of the groundbased military.


The outer defense stations began sending ships and transports to answer the calls for aid from Despayre and found Kaine waiting for them. The fighter corps neutralized these reinforcements.

Again, Kaine did not sever the planet's communication ability.

With the near jibberish of the civilian panic, thousands of different regional news agencies, thousands of emergency broadcast signals, and the hundreds of military signals.. it would be murder on the receivers at the other ends of the Jutraalian Empire.


The tales of destruction across Despayre's surface highlighted an attack by a fleet superior in firepower. The number of ships lost (including their classifications) told of an invasion fleet superior in numbers. With sensors lost, there was no way to actually tell the size force Kaine used. The brutality of the orbital bombardment left no doubt as to the committment and goals of the enemy.

And the enemy was known to be the Empire.




Two hours of conflict.


Kaine watched the last Jutraalian Star Destroyer lose attitude control and the planet's gravity began to take hold. His eyes gleamed as a predators.


The planet was beaten though not taken.




Not yet. They have to have their hearts ripped out of their fighting souls first!


For that I need Jutraal.



"Signal the fleet, Captain Sveli. Jam all enemy signals."



And the multiple signals, cries, raging of the blood, defiance propaganda, pleas for reinforcements, medical aid and the like suddenly fell silent.



To the galaxy at large, it was as if Despayre had finally died.






*



Jutraalian Royal Congress




"A CALL TO ARMS! I ISSUE A CALL TO ARMS TO GO DEFEND DESPAYRE NOW!" A congress member was beating his fist on a podium.


"We've heard their transmissions! This cowardly attack by the Empire cannot go unpunished! This deed shall be answered and Jutraal shall have it's revenge!!"


"Congressman Ignit, you shall have your wish!" Fearson's boomed from his pulpit. "The plans for 500 ships shall be immediately drawn up and an order arranged. You may lead them yourself as soon as they are built!"


Congressman Ignit sputtered. "Built?! What is this rubbish! I mean to take our ships.."


"OUR SHIPS?!" Another Congressman interupted. "And if the Empire decides to strike here? What do you propose we use to defend the Capital?"


Ignit's eyes narrowed, "Perhaps the 500 ships that will be built." he mentioned sarcastically.


"That will take five years.. maybe longer.. and the resources needed for such things will drive the people to unrest. We do not want another civil war!"


The Royal Congress murmured at that. Still fresh on their minds was the High Lord Admiral Zen tried to seize power and take Jutraal's pride, the Eclipse Super Star Destroyer Death's Hand. Zen's followers were caught and executed while Zen escaped and rumor had it he was rebuilding under the name Farfalen.

Then the Inquisitoriate Uprisings led by Viscount Del Forza to remove Regent Jander Sunstar from power. That too failed and at the Battle of the Jutraalian Palace.

Admiral Blackblade was exiled.


All these flashed across the minds of those present.


"Despayre will hold." Fearsons commented. As long as Despayre holds, we have hope. With our own civil wars, our defenses here are too weak. Our ships are patroling, but getting them out of dry dock takes time."


"Yes, and who do we have to thank for our fleet being in pieces for a refit while our necks are laid bare?" some drew gasps of air at Congressman Ignit's question to Fearsons.

The red eyes of the Emperor blazed for a bit. "Are you saying that you knew the attack would come? Are you saying you had secret knowledge that our talks had broken off? Speak now, Congressman so I may label you a traitor for not sharing this vital information with us."


"The entire fleet at one time?" Ignit persisted.


"We are not here to cast blame, Congressman," another interupted. "How were we supposed to know the Empire would strike. We have time. We can rebuilt the fleet and Despayre WILL hold. We are getting up to the minute information from them and already our civilian news agencies are showing the fighting spirit of the defenders."


"We cannot reinforce our defenses here AND rebuild the fleet. So what do we do? And while we may temporarily control the media centers to show them the 'fighting spirit' of the defenders, remember that other people are receiving personal transmissions from friends and family on Despayre that truly shows negatively on our position in that sector."


"OUR POSITION IN THAT SECTOR?" Ignit shouted indignantly. "Those are our families and friends.. It is not some point on a Jutraalian Map!"


"And you are not on a campaign for reelection Ignit so can we stay on topic!"


"We reinforce." Fearsons said decisively. "We can use our diplomatic pull with the Demosthesians to bring aid to Despayre."


"The Demosthesians?!" Ignit started. "What makes you think that Seti Ashar will run to your rescue when you all but destroyed GDI?"


The Emperor ground his teeth. "Because.. Ignit, if we fall, who will keep The New Order in check? The Demosthesians? No. Together, we can keep Regent Hyfe on Coruscant and give the Imperials pause at attacking us."


"Pause? My Lord, they ARE attacking us! If Despayre falls.."


"DESPAYRE WILL NOT FALL!" Fearson's voice boomed.


Suddenly, the double doors to the Royal Congressional Chamber were forced open, several members of the Jutraal Diplomatic Corps followed by several of the Emperor's own PeFauna Guard.


"What is the meaning of this outrage?" Ignit shouted first.


"I ordered that no one interrupt.." started Fearsons until the person leading the Diplomatic Corps started.


"My Lord, execute me if you must but this information cannot wait. We have good reason to believe that the Demosthesians are locked in a civil war."

"Our Embassy to them supports this?"

"Sir. Our Embassy is located on an outlying world of their empire. We have lost all contact with it and no transmission with any major planet within their empire gets through. Oh, we get a few minor ones but their leaders are unable to speak with us and their underlings cannot confirm that they even used the restroom that day. It is frustrating but standard protocol suggests that if a planet is blockaded.."


"Invasion is imminent." Fearsons finished. "It has to be a civil war because the Empire is not strong enough to hit both of us at the same time..." But his voice did not carry much conviction.


"It doesn't matter if the Demosthesians are being overun by jawas herding nerfs," Ignit started, "It tells us that Despayre cannot receive reinforcements from that quarter."



"Very well, Ignit. We shall prepare reinforements for Despayre.."


Several other people rushed into the Congress Chambers and Fearsons threw an irritated glance at his personal guards.


"My Lord Emperor, there is rioting in the streets." With all the emotion the man's voice held he might have been annoucing the room temperature of 73°.


"What??" Fearson's reeled back. Everything seemed to be falling apart. He stared at this Chief of Staff with disbelief.


"My Lord, Congressmen," the voice carried into the chamber, "Despayre has fallen silent."


A holographic channel appeared as Fearsons keyed in a civilian broadcast and a woman speaker appeared. "..has fallen. I repeat, it appears that the Jutraalian Sector Capital of Despayre has fallen!

At 0900 word began to drift in of an Imperial attack of the planet Despayre. What you see are images of the destruction ..."


The Emperor keyed the station off.


"My Lord, the civilian news agencies are throwing off military censor to inform the public. Many were talking with their friends and family on Despayre when the transmitting stopped."


"The planet could still be fighting.." Fearsons grumbled but even his eyes felt suddenly heavy. His red irises turned to Congressman Ignit.


"Do you still wish to send ships to Despayre?"


Ignit, for once, was speechless. "No Lord." he rasped. "Despayre has fallen for all intents and purposes. We reinforce ourselves here."


"Very well. We vote.."


And they did.


"Prepare the people for an Imperial attack and invasion."





*





The Royal Congress met the Imperial in their hall. Grand Marshall Simon Kaine's eyes watched the planetary guns trained at the skies for any sign of enemy craft.


Probably trained at the Galactus.


Soldiers paraded the streets as what looked like Martial Law was being imposed.


Fear keeps the local systems in line..


The Galactus stood silently watching Jutraal from orbit, it's shields and guns at the ready, though vastly outnumbered and outgunned by the planet's defense.


Kaine stood at the center of the chamber walking slowly towards the throne of Emperor Fearsons.


He stopped for a brief moment and as the doors closed behind him, he stated to the open auditorium, "The Demosthesians have fallen to the Empire!"


Shocked outcries began to flood the room but Kaine kept emotionless. He really did not know the status as yet of Theren Gevel's attacks but knew that transmissions were still not getting into the major Demosthesian planets. Might as well capitalize on that.


The voices subsided and Kaine continued. "The Original Jutraalian Capital of Despayre has fallen."


Again, with the planet under communications jamming the leaders on Jutraal were hardpressed to disagree with Kaine.


"Bold words Grand Marshall, but you shall not shake us!" Fearsons said as he stood up and walked toward the Imperial, cutting an impressive figure. "Any attack on Jutraal and you will pull down the entire wrath of our empire."


A slight feral grin pulled at Kaine's lips. "As what happened with Despayre?"


The murmuring rose.


"Then attack, Grand Marshall Kaine. Attack and know that for every Jutraalian you kill we will kill two Imperials. Know that if my empire goes down, we will make sure the victory has the taste of ashes in your mouth."


The chamber became silent waiting for an explosion but Kaine merely stood there calmly.


"Why?" he asked.


"It is a foregone conclusion that Jutraal is lost. Why bring the suffering that defeat will bring to yourselves and your people?"


"He makes a good point, Lord." Congressman Ignit started. "I propose a committee to outline terms of our surrender."


"Perhaps.." Fearsons started but Simon Kaine interrupted the Emperor. "I am sorry, Congressman but I am not interested in your committee nor the terms you would draw up. Jutraal will surrender. It is just a matter of how much damage needs to be done before that happens."


"Then attack GRAND Marshall!" the Congressman's voice sneered at the title. "We shall defend Jutraal with every ounce of our blood."


"Yes." Simon agreed. "You shall."

Then he walked forward standing in front of Fearsons. "But the decision is not yours."


"What game are you playing Marshall Kaine?" Fearsons asked quietly.


"It is your decision, Emperor." Kaine said, equally as quiet. "You have this planet under Martial Law don't you? Then for now, your Congress merely functions in an advisory position and not the formal leadership body."

Kaine grinned. "I've read Isard's report on the Jutraalian Citizenry Analysis, X."


Fearsons recoiled from Kaine as if struck.


Kaine's voice was a harsh whisper as he ignored the questioning murmurs of the Congressmen. "I know who you are! There is question that you have gone native. That you are enjoying too much the autonomous power given you by Isard to lead in Fearsons stead.

Maybe you have and maybe you do, but that does not change the fact that you are an Imperial agent sent to act as a double for Fearsons and bring his 'Rogues' back into the Imperial fold.

It is time for you to complete that assignment."



"If I refuse?" Those red eyes were piercing.


Kaine grinned. "I knew there was a reason why you stayed as far away from me as possible on my visit to Despayre before our conquest of Coruscant. Why you sent the Viscout to do your work."


"The Viscount lives?"


"Of course he does! Your plan was to step out of the limelight and have his revolution topple the 'old' ways and perhaps bring TJE into the Empire with the Viscount's proposed merger. Unfortunately, it backfired since you did not correctly anticipate the forces aligned against the Viscount in the government."


"The assignment would have finished then! It should have!"


"But when it didn't, you came back and took the reigns and decided to rule. Which brings us to now.

You can refuse and we WILL attack. Jutraal WILL fall and you and your leaders will be executed after we expose you."



"And if I agree?"


"You agree, as military leader..and with your planet under Martial Law, to surrender unconditionally, you may continue to lead Jutraal as a Governor under the banner of the Empire. You will have Stormtroopers backing you. Your PeFauna will either be executed or given over to the Inquistoriate."


"As Governor, I would not need a congress?"


"We can execute the bloody lot of them if you like."


"No..no.. just Ignit. I would like to see him die.." Fearson's.. or rather, X's, eyes shined brightly on that.


"I do not want to mislead you, X. But there will be a purge of Jutraal. Should Fearson's ever escape Imperial Intelligence's custody I do not want him linking to any powerful friends within his old empire."


X (Fearsons) nodded. "Why do you agree so readily for me to be a Governor?"


"Because, X, with you a Governor it gives the people a familiar face to deliver Imperial Policy. It also keeps Imperial Intelligence from using you again and keeps you in the power of the Military Command. Also, with your secret, it also makes you more understanding to our way of thinking.


All in all, you retain the highest power achievable on Jutraal under the Empire, you remain rich and with the most powerful government in the galaxy behind you.

Just remember that you are not autonomous anymore. You answer to the Regent and to me.


Govern well and you shall be rewarded.


Fail us and you will not like the consequences. But then, that is what every leader faces no?"



Kaine's eyes hardened.


"So what is your answer?"


Kaine raised his voice. "The decision is not yours congressman. It is the Emperor's."


"We can destroy your ship in orbit, Imperial!" Ignit snapped.


"Then the Empire shall know your answer and once given, it will not be retracted. Believe me, you will not want to see what the Empire has on the planning floor for you should you decide seige."


His gaze fell back on Fearsons, his voice still loud. "If you kneel to me now, know that you kneel before the Empire once and for all time! You will swear fealty to the Empire and govern yourselves no longer.

However, you will live."




After a full minute, Fearsons walked up to Kaine, his eyes flashing.


"I have no choice do I?"


"You do." Kaine replied and Fearsons grunted.


After another minute the figure of Emperor Fearsons knelt before the Empire's representative Grand Marshall Kaine and swore fealty oaths to both the New Order's government and to Regent Hyfe.


The news agencies played it all day.


Congressman Ignit was executed within an hour of the display.




*


The surrender of Jutraal was carried back to Despayre and the remaining defending ground troops, their heart ripped from them, followed suit and surrendered unconditionally.


The Jutraalian Empire was no more.


The Rogues were no longer Rogues.









*



Refueling Depot



"Admiral Kroth said what?" The Grand Marshall demanded angrily, his off duty uniform was unbuttoned and his face unshaven. He had been asleep when a communication from Moff Zell appeared.

"Something about not giving rank and the image of High Command..and whatever other @#%$ he could pull out of his ass."


"Theren Gevel brought the Demosthesians to their knees, Zell! To their knees and was responsible for bringing about the creation of the Yaga Minor Protectorate.

Without the Demosthesian support, Jutraal had to surrender! If Theren had failed, Jutraal probably would not have surrendered and we would still be fighting them. Ashar was a sneaky @#%$."


Kaine silently told himself to send Theren his personal gratitude and support.

If there was one thing Kaine respected it was capable officers and the history teacher turned Governor was one of them.


Perhaps our Military is recruiting in all the wrong places..


"Don't worry about Gevel. I still don't know what he's up to with that Bastion Conclave of his or how his region is set up politically but he cannot be dislodged easily by fools. He's got an Imperial set of balls on him . Something that pissass fool Kroth knows nothing about." Zell remarked. "I just wanted to offer my congratulations at finally bringing Fearsons and his bloody empire to it's knees. I've been waiting for that every since he broke from the Dark Alliance..the damned traitor!"


Kaine grinned. "We won, Zell. Do you know that the Empire is back to near strength before the 'New Empire'? Before Wrath?"

Kaine leaned forward. "And you know what? We are not bloody finished!"


Zell barked out a laugh. "Knowing you Kaine, this is just Act 1."


"We are the Galactic Empire, Zell. Regent Hyfe announced it after Endgame....after the Rebellion was crushed once and for all.

During the New Empire and Wrath, we defeated those weak elements within TNO. Now, we have defeated those elements of the Galactic Empire gone rogue. The Age of Imperial Warlords is over. They've been put down and the religionists cowered. No more elements claiming the glory or heritage of Palpatine! There is nothing that stands between the Galactic Empire and it's destiny."


Moff Zell, in a surprisingly perceptive comment, drew the point home. "You all have washed away the sins of your fathers. Gevel's father being born poor, the young @#%$ having to claw his way to the top. You, your father having money, being a mediocre military officer.. your mother being a Senator's daughter...and you probably were a spoiled little @#%$ until your daddy turned rebel.. you having to claw your way to the top. And the little @#%$ girl Drayson who had to throw caution and perhaps her virginity to the wind to bank her fortunes on the Empire..."


Kaine's eyebrow rose amused. "Virginity?"


Zell sneered, "Well Gevel was born without a spoon in his mouth. Who knows what he demanded to give the girl a chance at leading a part of the Empire. She's pretty capable it seems.. the little @#%$ did all that to destroy those who destroyed her father."


Zell looked up, "You know what that makes us?"


Kaine laughed. "An Empire of shitheads?"


Not to be outdone, "No. An Empire of winning shitheads."


Then Zell grew serious. "Listen to me, boy. Whatever grand plan you've got cooking in that head of yours, there is one more thing that stands between the Galactic Empire and total domination of this galaxy!"


Kaine nodded, understanding the older man. "The aliens?"


"Exaclty! Those little shitheads!"


Kaine grinned. "Not yet, Zell. But they will be soon. Very soon."


Zell smiled at Kaine's answer. "You are all right boy. I don't care what Moff Khendon says about you."



The screen went dark and Kaine settled back in his bed.


We've washed away the sins of our fathers have we? But what of our sins for the next generation?


Yet, basking in the glow of victory, his mind asked easily, "What Sins?"



He drifted off to sleep.

To: ISB Central Command
From: Commodore Trachta

After reviewing the reports of the Grand Marshall, Commodore Gevel, and Bhindi Drayson, as well as their lower level officers, I have concluded that the Imperial Security Bureau must redistrubute any current agents and operatives we have at our disposal. We must redistribute to the areas of the conquered worlds of Jutraal and Desparye so as to keep the false emperor, now governor, Chadd Fearsons and his followers under constant surveillance and in the iron grip of the Empire. This will help maintain aboslute control over the worlds as well as over the officials we have allowed to stay in power.

I also suggest that more ISB officers be dispatched to the worlds of the former Holy Demosthesian Empire. We must maintain absolute order on those worlds. We must also ensure keep the Demothesians that will soon be within our fleet command under complete surveillance, especially Bhindi Drayson. We cannot afford to leave someone like her in a position of power and not have an agent close enough to liquidate her if it should become necassary. We must ensure that our fleet commanders are loyal, no matter how far we must go to ensure this. The Galactic Empire shall not faulter as long we we watch those that we place in power who were once our enemies. Some say you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer, but we must still watch those enemies that we enpower. As always, we of the ISB must protect the Empire from the enemies within as well as the enemies from the outside. Long Live the Empire!

Reporting,
Commodore Trachta
Chief ISB Operative

Trachta read over his report as he sat back in his gardn office after he had returned to Mechis III from the sit-in meeting between Bhindi Drayson and Theren Gevel. All the occurances had required him to make a report to the few superiors he had in the ISB. From what he read, he had expressed what was now important for the ISB to do, now that the New Order had absorbed the Holy Demothesian Empire as well as shattered what remained of the Jutraalian Empire. Now there was only the true Galactic Empire. With this new growth in numbers, more ISB agents could now be trained as the Empire required more and more to keep an eye on those above and below them, for the safety of the Empire.

Trachta finished reading it and simply hit the transmit button before standing up to take a stroll around the garden office. He didn't really sleep all too much ever since he had recieved his cybernetics, but was surprised he didn't suffer from the madness of sleep deprivation. However that was besides the point now. There was only one true Empire now, so he could now permit himself some time to rest his mind after writing that report. He made his way towards the waterfall to clear his thoughts as he listened to the trickling water.