Corellia… a lifetime ago

The young girl ran through the tall grass, her hair blowing, her dark brown eyes reflecting the glint of the setting sun.

Someone was calling for her, their voice carrying in the light wind, “Bhindi? Bhindi, time to come in! Your dinner is getting cold!”

She giggled – her father was always calling after her, and she was always running. Her natural curiosity did not allow her to retreat back to the familiarity of her dwelling until she had explored every inch of the world outside.

The world was a big place, and she wanted to see all of it. Right now!

To say she was impulsive would be something of an understatement: the girl was insatiable. Kings and Emperors could not quell her need to know, even if they were interested enough to try.

“Bhindi! Come in, please, it’s getting dark!” Her mother’s voice.

She stopped, her heart racing.

“Where has that girl gotten to?” She heard her father say, amusement in his voice. “I swear, if I have a credit for every time she lost track of time and came in after dark-”

Her mother laughed.

Above Bhindi, the sun had set. A cold wind began to blow, clouds rapidly moving in the blot out the stars. For the first time, she began to worry.

“Daddy!” She called out. But her voice was lost to the rising wind, carried away from her house towards the endless ocean on which she teetered.

Darkness began to close in around her. The clouds above split open, releasing a torrent of rain upon the field below. Upon the helpless girl.

“Daddy?” She sniffled, quieter now. It was not like the young girl to cry, but she did so now, tears coming unbidden to her eyes, then swept away by the rain as it pelted her, mocked her.

“Bhindi?” A voice called, closer now, worried.

“Dad?” A flashlight, nearby, sweeping across the tall grass, searching.

“Where are you?” He called, his voice nearly lost to the growing wind and rain.

“I’m here!” Bhindi called back, panic beginning to grow in her heart. What if he couldn’t find her? What if he gave up, decided she was gone? What if he didn’t love her?

“Thanks the Gods, Bhindi!” His voice was right above her now, and Bhindi realized belatedly that she had fallen. She lay, tangled in the soaking grass, her eyes wet whether with tears or rain she did not know.

“Dad… I was so scared…”

“It’s okay, honey. I’m here now. It’s okay…”





Super Star Destroyer Acheron… the present

Screening duties were dull work, hardly fit for the flagship of an Imperial Grand Moff. Those ships that found themselves pulled out of hyperspace by her foreboding presence reacted with something more than alarm – sheer terror was the most common response.

The Acheron floated at station-keeping somewhere in the Unknown Regions. Traffic between Csilla, the New Order’s presence in the otherwise unmapped regions of the galaxy, and the rest of the Empire was slight, at best. And yet it was here, along this seldom-travelled hyperroute, the greatest ship in the Black Fleet stood, a silent sentinel over equally silent space.

But her relatively easy duties did not spare her crew: they were subject to a merciless regiment of drills, lest they become complacent. Even now her guns silently tracked back and forth, in a recreation of the infamous Battle of Endor.

The room was lit only by what natural light found its way in through the vast viewport, and the eerie holographic map that dominated the space above the massive, obsidian conference table.

Bhindi Drayson studied the map with interest. More curious that what the map showed, though, was what it did not show: in spite of the Empire’s best efforts, years of probing and exploring, great swaths of the Unknown Regions remained (for lack of a better word)… unknown. Imperial cartographers estimated hundreds of thousands of planets lying undiscovered and unclaimed beyond the borders of the known galaxy.

Space enough to build an army! (She mused.)

The Unknown Regions had been religiously guarded ever since Thrawn’s last invasion, the crippling series of attacks that had brought Gash Jiren’s Rogue Jedi Order to its knees and nearly wiped out the rest of the galaxy’s governing factions in one fell swipe. Bases had been established to contain the threat of the Chiss Imperium, a series of Maginot Lines to hold back the storm when and if it came again.

But now, the Empire held Csilla, and things had changed. The Chiss Imperium had all but been crushed, their capital smashed, their tools of war decommissioned.

The chamber doors opened, spilling artificial light into the otherwise darkened chamber, and the Admiral stood. A group of intelligence officers entered, followed by Captain Joda, the Star Destroyer’s commanding officer and long time friend of Bhindi.

Drayson observed the new arrivals with interest, gauging their reactions to where they now found themselves. Flown in from Yaga Minor, they knew neither where they were going nor why, and how they conducted themselves now finding themselves in the presence of the Grand Moff was telling.

A few looked away as Bhindi’s gaze fell on them, but most met her eyes, though their own betrayed their fear or confusion, as it where. A still smaller number offered a nod, as though they shared some special secret with the woman that their brethren were not privy to.

“Captain?” Bhindi asked, her eyes moving to the familiar figure of Joda.

He spoke quietly, so as not to let the young officer hear as they settled themselves along one side of the obsidian conference table.

“Another one, Admiral,” he used her naval title: it had been to long since anyone had addressed her as ‘Admiral’.

“The fighters?”

“Yes. Closer to Csilla. It’s happening as we speak. The fleet has already been scrambled.”

“We needn’t have bothered – they’ll never get there in time,” The Admiral sighed, her mind tired, “Very well. Thank you, Captain.”

“Do you know,” Bhindi asked, her attention returning to the new officers, “where you are?”

A few of the officer looked away, unwilling to commit themselves to answering. Others looked uneasy: they were uncertain, too. But one, a young man (who was, admittedly, probably as old as the Admiral herself) looked straight at Bhindi and nodded.

“I can only speculate, Grand Moff, but based on recent activity, I would guess in orbit above Csilla. Our shuttle did not land on a planet, and we are clearly on a capital ship – probably a Star Destroyer.”

Bhindi spared a glance at Joda, who now stood behind her. The Captain shrugged and mouthed the words, “He’s good”.

The Admiral smiled, returning the intelligence officer’s gaze evenly.

“Close. You are aboard the Super Star Destroyer Acheron. We are not far out from Csilla.”

She turned her gaze to the rest of the assembled officers.

“What about the rest of you? Why don’t you have any idea where you are?”

There was silence save for the awkward manoeuvrings of embarrassed officers, before one finally spoke.

“With all due respect, Grand Moff, we were not given any material from which to base a conclusion. I do not think it fair to expect us to know anything we have a had a chance to familiarize ourselves with the material-”

“Fair?” Bhindi cut him off, her eyes flashing, “No, you’re right. And yet…

“Will it be fair when an operative on the other side shoots you without warning?

“Will it be fair when your cover is blown and you’re executed as a traitor?

“Intelligence is not a game - and if you are going to operate in this field, then you must realize that it is not going to be fair.

“There have been reports in the media of attacks. Word on Yaga Minor that the Empire’s position in the Unknown Regions is being degraded. If you do not know except what you have been told, then you know nothing. And there is no room in Intelligence for people too stupid to learn.

“Do not expect your instructors to spoon-feed you. You are Intelligence operatives now, you are expected to fend for yourselves.

“Ignorance is not an excuse.”

She stopped, her eyes darting between the embarrassed officers. Pursing her lips, she went on, “Now that you know where you are, who wants to tell me why you are here?”

“The terrorists.” One of the young officers snapped quickly. “They’ve been attacking Imperial shipping: convoys, supply depots…” He trailed off, unsure if he was on the right track.

“Close,” she gestured at the table before her, “these are reports. They will provide you the necessary material on which to formulate your conclusions.”

There was silence, save for the rustling of papers, as the officers grabbed at the reports and took them in. Finally, someone spoke: “Grand Moff, I do not mean to sound presumptuous, but,” she paused, unsure, “these reports are about Corellia.”

“Your powers of observation astound,” Bhindi said dryly, “you are correct. The reports are about Corellia.”

“But I thought we were interested in Csilla – the Unknown Regions.”

“We are.”

“Then why-”

“-are we looking at Corellia?” Bhindi toggled a switch, changing the view of the holographic map. “What does this tell you?”

“It looks like an old galaxy map. Pre-Wrath virus, I think.”

“Yeah. Note the Corellian system,” she adjusted the controls again, and the map zoomed in, focusing on the five planets, “who did they belong to at this time?”

“The New Republic, of course. But I do not see how this is relevant to what is happening now, Grand Moff. The New Republic is smashed, their government nonexistent, what was left of their fleet was obliterated at Bastion.”

Bhindi’s eyes flashed.

“Are they, officer? How sure are you?”

The young officer stopped, her eyes wide.

“Are you saying- What’s happening now, in the Unknown Regions, is it-?”

“What you are about to hear is classified at the very highest levels,” Bhindi said slowly, her eyes travelling over the assembly. “As such, once I have told you, you will not be allowed to leave this ship.

“If you would rather, you may excuse yourselves now, and go home to whatever pathetic life you had before now.”

Nobody moved. Bhindi went on.

“After the Imperial invasion of Corellia and the outbreak of Wrath, Kaine discovered a plan for the future of the New Republic. Should the centre (Corellia) ever fall, there were contingency plans to move the Republic’s base of operations to Csilla.

“The Grand Marshall discovered this, and smashed Csilla before the Rebels could make the transition. Their government, in the aftermath of Bastion, collapsed, and their worlds joined the Empire.”

Bhindi adjusted the map once more, bringing the Unknown Regions into focus. Csilla was represented in a pale blue, the unknown planets surrounding it white.

“So the activity on Corellia, the attacks in the Unknown Regions,” the first officer, the young man, was speaking again, “you believe there is a correlation. That these are not isolated incidents.”

Bhindi nodded.

“I do not believe in coincidence. A rebel group emerges on Corellia at the same moment we begin suffering attacks near the last redoubt of the Rebellion?

“No! There is a connection, here. The question is, what would you do?”

“Deploy the fleet.” The girl said greedily. “Stop the attacks in their tracks and you end the threat. Show them – whoever they are – that the Empire will not be taken advantage of.”

Bhindi turned to the man next to her.

“And you?”

The officer who had not spoken yet shrugged. “The same. Put troops on the ground on Corellia, send the Fleet to Csilla and hunt them down. If they’re there, we can find them.”

The Admiral frowned.

“I see, and you?” She asked the ‘smart’ man.

He took his time answering, forming his thoughts.

“I would hold back.” He said after a moment. “I admit it is coincidental, but the activity in the Unknown Regions might not be related. It may be nothing more than pirates. There is less of an Imperial presence that far out – slower response times, less chance of discovery.

“Gather more intelligence. Do not arouse suspicion – if it is the Rebels, act is if we are unconcerned. And when we have found out more, we make a surgical strike based on that information, and wipe them out.”

Bhindi nodded.

“Interesting. Very well – I am afraid we do not have facilities prepared for your accommodation, so you will have to make due with your shuttle until something suitable can be arranged.

“Dismissed.”

She turned to the young man.

“Lieutenant?”

“Merder, Admiral.”

“A word, if you please?”

The other officers cast jealous looks back at him as they followed Captain Joda from the room.

“Would your thoughts on the situation change if you knew what the attackers of our convoys were after?”

The man blinked.

“Perhaps. It would give us a clue as to their intentions… if they were pirates, it would probably be something they could sell easily. Raw materials, precious cargoes…”

“And if it were complete TIE fighters?”

Merder thought for a minute.

“TIEs are too easy to trace. Nobody would sell complete ships, the risks are too high. If they are stealing complete fighters, they are looking to use them. And if they are stealing them from the Empire, it means they think they have nothing to fear from us and are planning to use them against us.” He paused. “They’re building a navy.”

Bhindi nodded.

“My thoughts as well.” She turned away, facing the viewport, which gave her a distant view of Csilla.

“A storm is coming, Lieutenant. The Rebellion has taken a licking, but it is not finished quite yet.”





Hanger Bay

“He’s no better than us.” The girl seethed. Livid at having been looked down at by the Grand Moff, she went on, “And her? She’s barely even older than we are. Who is she to sit on that high horse and look down on us?”

“She’s the youngest Grand Moff in the history of the Empire. The only female Moff. She must have got there somehow…” The man said reasonable, remembering the way the beautiful Moff had looked at him. If only…

“Yeah, by sleeping with Simon Kaine, I’ll wager.” The woman spat, climbing the ramp into the shuttle. “She’s nothing more than a pretentious little slut. I’ll bet she’s never even-”

Her voice was drowned at as a loud wailing began to fill the hanger bay, and she realized that the magnetic containment field had failed. The docking bay was exposed to vacuum.

“Jesus Christ!” She yelled, slapping at the switch to close the ramp, praying that the ship was sturdy enough not to be sucked into the void by the wind as the oxygen rushed out of the bay.

Deep inside the shuttle, a circuit slaved to the ramp control activated, and in the cargo hold, a detonator clicked.

The charred hulk of the freighter was thrown clear of the landing bay, where is spiralled, out of control, towards the distant Csillan system. It would take weeks to reach it, but eventually it would be sucked into the planet’s sun and reduced to its molecular level.

Freighter Galloway… the Unknown Regions

“Anything?” Captain Thrall asked, beads of sweat running down his thick neck. Suddenly his Imperial uniform seemed to tight, clinging to his body in all the wrong places.

“No, Sir. They’re still jamming our communications. If Csilla got our message, we won’t know it.”

The com officers voice was calm, controlled. Thrall was instantly jealous of his poise, and redoubled his efforts not to appear concerned. The truth was, however, that Captain Thrall was terrified.

“Damn. Keep trying. Let me know the minute you get anything.” The com officer nodded, turning back to his task. Thrall spared a glance out the freighter’s forward viewports, and thought he could feel his heart contracting.

The ship that hovered off the Galloway's bow could best be described as a Star Destroyer, but it was as though someone had taken that idea and twisted it, grafting some kind of pontoon structure onto either side so that is resembled a kind of flying boat.

Thrall had never seen anything like it, nor did he ever want to again. The ship had been waiting for them as they dropped out of hyperspace for the last leg of their trip into Csilla, opening fire even before the merchant fleet had realized what was going on. What meagre escorts the freighter had had were destroyed instantly, killing any chance of resistance for the merchant mariners that crewed the Galloway.

And then its commander had come on the com, a young woman with fire in her eyes, and told them to be ready to take on boarders.

“Sir?” The voice came from the sensor operator. “They’ve launched a shuttle.”

Thrall nodded. He contemplated for a moment drawing his sidearm, ordering the crew to battle stations, setting up to repel the boarders. But the commander of that mysterious Star Destroyer had made it perfectly clear that resistance would be met with force.

And so he waited, tugging at the collar of his uniform, for what was to come.

The enemy shuttle made its ‘landing’ against the port side docking collar, disgorging troops as soon as the airlock confirmed a seal. They spread throughout the freighter with alarming speed, securing the cargo bay in time for a second shuttle to dock on the opposite side.

The enemy command marched onto the bridge, flanked by a squad of young but decidedly ruthless looking soldiers, dressed all the same. If these were pirates, they were obviously doing quite well for themselves. The woman commander reached out, and Thrall reluctantly gave up his sidearm.

“Thank you for not resisting, Captain,” she said with what seemed to be a sincere smile, “It would have been unfortunate if we had to do more harm to your crew than was necessary.”

Her cordial tone, coming so naturally that she might have been discussing the most recent shockball competition, infuriated the Imperial officer.

“And who,” he asked, his fear subsiding at realizing how young the girl truly was, “are you?”

“My name is immaterial.” She said, deflecting the question. “At any rate, I have no doubt you will learn soon enough.”

She turned to one of the soldiers who stood behind her.

“Is the cargo secured?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Commander Sven is doing inventory, but so far it looks as though everything is in order.”

“The Empire’s best response time in this region is twenty-seven minutes. We’re at least another thirty outside Csilla. Will we be able to get everything transferred to the Athena?”

“We’ll have to leave some of it behind, but we should be able to take on the best of it before the Empire’s reinforcements arrive.”

The woman nodded.

“Good.” Turning to Thrall, she continued, “You have done me a great disservice, Captain. Your little distress message has required me to accelerate my plans. Have no doubt you can look forward to another of my little visits in the next little while.”

She smiled, a deceptively beautiful smile that belied the fire that still burned in her dark eyes, and turned to leave the bridge.

“Let’s examine the cargo, shall we?”

Imperial Sensor Station… Elyios, the Unknown Regions

“Track gravitational anomaly, compute expected coordinates if the object continues along its current path.” Lia Ryder said idly into the terminal’s microphone, trying hard not to chew on the foam wind guard: it was a bad habit of hers.

A message flashed up on the screen in front of her, accompanied by a lewd, computer-generated picture of Lia’s counterpart and friend, Fay.

“Fay,” she said, hiding a smirk and jerking her head at the monitor.

“Ralen,” the other returned, rolling her eyes, “he would not know a woman if one sat on his face and sang Gloria Imperium.

Lia laughed and turned to Ralen’s station.

“Hey, Ralen!”

Ralen Mirr was bored. There was, he had decided, only so much time one could spend staring at a computer monitor, before one’s brain began to turn to mush. His had started that process when he was assigned as a programmer at the Empire’s so-far-out-of-the-way-they-may-as-well-deny-its-existence sensor station on Elyios, a planet so insignificant they did not even bother to include it on most star charts.

Their job here was simple – absurdly simple. Keep an eye on the sensor buoy network that guarded the Empire’s northern capital of Csilla. Ralen’s prestigious (a word he uses sardonically) was to oversee the team of junior programmers who actually maintained the network.

In short, to make sure the people that made sure the sensors didn’t screw off from screwing off. Since Ralen’s assignment to the station, the most exciting intrusion had been the arrival of a medium sized comet that had crashed spectacularly into the planet below: hardly the life of danger and excitement he had expected when signing up for a job with the Empire.

“Yes, Lia?” He returned, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

She jerked her head at the monitor again.

“Password.”

Ralen grinned.

“I made it easy for you this time. Even you should be able to figure it out. Fine – I’ll give you a clue. You sit on it all day, but you cannot take it with you.”

Lia rolled her eyes and punched the code – C-H-A-I-R – into the machine. It beeped and the terminal began to process the most recent data.

“I’m going to get some caf.” She said, standing and heading for the break room, noting it would take a least fifteen minutes for the computer to finish its task.

The sensor station was a tiny space station hovering above an unknown world. Their supplies were ferried in, once a month, by an Imperial transport from Csilla. It was commonly said that an assignment to Elyios was not a punishment, but if that was true, those who worked there were left to wonder: what is it?

Lia busied herself with the caf machine, keying it for the strongest setting. She noticed that the holoset in the corner was on the fritz again – nothing terribly unusual about that; out here, civilian holonet signals were so weak they sometimes went a week at a time with only essential communications (the military refused to let them piggyback their more reliable frequencies to talk to family).

Looking at the screen, she noticed that it was not the same static-filled display as usually came up when a signal was lost, but nothing. And that was strange, because no matter how bad the signal was, they usually had some amount of noise.

Lia shrugged, not knowing nor worrying about what it meant. Then the whole station shuddered, the lights went out, and she knew something was wrong.



The Bunker… Rishi

From the surface, the only sign of The Bunker’s existence were three decrepit log cabins, set in the midst of a veritable sea of parched yellow tall grass. Brush native to Myrkr, high in metallic content, hid the facility’s defensive measures and heavy blast doors from sensors or the naked eye. The occasional starship that made its landing there did so under the cover of night – not that there were many who might be interested in such things. Rishi was an out of the way planet, best known for its short-lived role as the capital of the Ridge Confederacy before it was crushed by Bhindi Drayson, bringing into the fold of the Holy Demosthesian Empire, which was in turn absorbed into the New Order. Rishi had been forgotten – to everyone save for Drayson herself.

She had commissioned the construction of the facility, hidden from even the most determined of eyes, deep under the surface of Rishi. In theory, the existence of the Bunker was known only to her, those stationed there, and a select few in her inner circle. She suspected that Simon Kaine, the shrewd Supreme Commander of the Empire’s armed forces knew that the facility existed, but what went on within was cloaked in so many layers of secrecy and even him and Isard had been thus far unable to penetrate it. The Bunker was much more than simplu the centre of the Ubiqtorate’s intelligence services, it was a think tank for the Ubiqtorate’s most ambitious and dangerous projects. A think tank headed up by one General Tagge, and old man with a reputation for brilliance and reliability.

General Tagge was an old man. His long relationship with Imperial Intelligence had left him cynical and wary man, and his powers of observation continued to astound the more junior staff of The Bunker. It was his habit each and every morning to pour over the major newspapers of the galaxy, dissecting their contents to gain an insight into what was happening in the galaxy. And when that was done, he could often be found prowling the rooms of the Bunker, checking in on his junior officers. In spite of the Bunker’s darker nature, it was by all appearances a relatively simple listening post.

Leaning over the shoulder of one such young Lieutenant, he spoke, causing the unfortunate officer to nearly jump out of his seat.

“Have you cross-referenced their departure vectors with the data from our sensor stations in the region?”

The young man, a hint of red creeping into his cheeks, shook his head.

“Um, no Sir. I was just running the data against known systems nearby where they might have established a base…”

“In case they were stupid enough to jump straight home form the ambush zone.” General Tagge nodded knowingly, resting his hand on the younger officer’s shoulder. “The report indicates that this woman commander of theirs is very, very smart. She knew the Empire’s response time nearly to the second. I highly doubt she is so foolish as to simply jump her ship into the system without first taking precautions against the discovery of her base – if she is so confident so as to keep a base.”

“Sir?”

“Captain Thrall’s description indicates that the vessel is Star Destroyer sized or better. A ship that size can usually run for years without any need to return to a common base.” He shrugged. “Run the data from the local sensor station – if it’s that big, we should be able to get a shadow of it in hyperspace.”

“Yes, Sir.” The Lieutenant said, typing a command into his terminal. He frowned.

“We’re not getting anything, Sir. No data.”

“Interference?” Tagge asked. It was not uncommon for the various uncharted stars and nebulas in the Unknown Regions to produce interference for their signals, and though he had been lobbying for more powerful transmitters out there for years, they had not materialized.

“No, Sir. I’m not even picking up that station. Is as though its disappeared entirely.”

“Ping them.” Tagge said, leaning in closer, and punching his command code into the machine. The ping would travel across the holonet to the station’s receiver: if it made it, and the dish was active, they would see an echo.

Nothing. He was distracted by the buzzing his communicator, and reading the message that appeared, his expression turned grave.

“Keep trying, Lieutenant. Let me know if you get anything.” He paused. “And good work.”

The Bunker’s communication centre was its busiest sector. It was there that all of the Empire’s considerable number of intelligence agents reported to, their communications being routed no less than thirteen times so as not to be traced before finally arriving for processing.

It took Tagge only a moment to find the sector officiator, a middle aged man with a scar running down one half of his face. He was standing over a com station, another young officer seated in front of it, speaking into a microphone.

“General.” The officiator said, saluting. Tagge returned the gesture busily.

“What is it? You said you had something urgent.”

“Our sensor station on Elyios broke contact in mid-transmission. We’ve been trying for the last half hour to get through, but so far, nothing.”

“Not a transmission error?”

“No, Sir. One moment, perfectly clear. The next, we had lost everything.”

The General swore and brought his comlink to his mouth: “Control? Connect me with Grand Moff Drayson.”

There was a pause.

“I don’t care if she’s not taking calls, tell them who it is and that it’s urgent. We just lost communications and datastream with Elyios. We need someone to get out there and investigate.”

“No need.” A voice said behind him. Tagge turned, finding himself face to face with Major Driff, the intelligence agent who (it was said) had a more than professional relationship with the Grand Moff.

If rumours were to be believed: concrete intelligence had been rather slim on the matter (much to the General’s chagrin).

“We just got word from Trinity. Elyios was hit. Wiped out.”

RCD Avatar… Hyperspace

The conference table was littered with file folders and datacards, intelligence reports from Csilla, Corellia, from every Imperial ship that had had any encounter with unknown or unidentified ships since the Wrath epidemic. Imperial Intelligence was stretching its tentacles out, searching for a solution to the new problem in the Unknown Regions.

The Avatar was plying the hyperlanes near Csilla, searching for the mystery ship and its enigmatic commander that had accosted the Galloway. They had been at it for a week, and so far, had had no luck. Nor had their been any more attacks on Imperial shipping, but the stalemate could not hold forever.

Someone had to act, and soon.

“If Bhindi is right, if the Republic is behind these attacks, then we have a serious problem on our hands.” Ton Karlos said, pacing from one side of the room to the other. His cane made a dull thunk with each step he took – a parting gift from the forces of the Galactic Coalition. Ton – Agent Janus, then – had been the leader of the one of the landing parties that had taken control of the Coalition’s greatest warships during the Battle of Corellia. The leg was a small price to pay for the Empire’s victory there, but Ton still had a great deal of anger for the Coalition – were it not for their stupidity, he would still have full use of his leg and still be teaching history at the academy, instead of plotting the Coalition’s destruction. “The Galactic Coalition may hold the balance of power (such as it is), but they’re idiots. Prime Minister Regard couldn’t handle the bloody Atlanteans, never mind the Empire, not after the debacle at Corellia. I’m shocked the electorate didn’t string him up for that stunt.”

“Nobody ever said the Coalition’s members were any more intelligent than its leadership.” Trinity half-muttered, dropping the report she was reviewing (a testimony on post-Wrath Republic sympathizers). “What about the reports of their new allies?” She asked, watching as her comrade as he continued to pace about the room. “The Contegorian Federation.”

“Confederation,” Ton corrected idly, “No. Lucerne is smarter than Regard – marginally – but he represents only a small portion of the Coalition’s forces. More to the point, a marginally intelligent idiot is still an idiot. His little confederation is so reliant on technology they wouldn’t know what to do if the power went out. Probably sit on their hands and pray to their damned Gods to throw a lightning bolt down and smite us.”

Ton stopped pacing, and turned to look at Trinity.

“The Coalition only exists because Kaine took pity on them. Instead of crushing them like the bugs they are, like we should have done, he spared them. Damned if I know why (and I have my theories), but I’m sure he had his reasons. And it worked in our favour. Now people look, and they compare their lives in the Coalition to what they could have in the Empire.

“Look at the state their government is in, look at the standard of living on their worlds. Look how many wars Regrad has led them blindly into, tearing families apart in the process.

“Look at the Empire – free health care. Free social assistance. Peace. Justice. Security. No mandatory military service. Imperial Immigration has doubled in size since the Coalition attacked the Dragons because they’re sick and tired of Regrard throwing their sons and daughters into war and loosing!

“No, the Coalition is stupid. If they didn’t have the Empire to hate so much they would probably destroy themselves fighting over whose Gods were better. But the Republic… the Republic is shrewd. They almost defeated the Empire at Dantooine. They destroyed the Death Star. If Bhindi is right, if the Rebels has been out there all this time, biding their time, then things are going to get sour.”

“You doubt Bhindi’s intelligence? You think this isn’t the work of the Republic?”

Ton frowned.

“No. When Bhindi has a theory, it’s usually right. But this time, I hope she’s wrong. I very much hope that it’s not the Republic.”

“The chances of the Rebels surviving after Bastion are pretty slim,” Trinity said, “Kaine crushed what was left after Wrath. It’s highly unlikely that the Republic can present any kind of threat to the Empire, not now.”

“I would imagine Grand Moff Tarkin would have said it was ‘highly unlikely’ that a single X-wing starfighter could blow up the first Death Star.” Ton returned poignantly.

Trinity nodded. “I imagine he would have. I hope you’re right, Ton. I hope that Bhindi is wrong on this one. Because if the Rebels are still out there, they’re not going to be very happy to see us.” Which was something of an understatement.

They were interrupted by the buzz of the wall intercom, and the voice of the ship’s executive officer.

“Captain? We’ve emerged from hyperspace and… there’s something you need to see.”

Trinity looked at Ton, surprise on her face.

“I’ll be right there.”





“My God.” Trinity said, reaching the end of the command walkway and observing the scene ‘below’ her. The Avatar had twisted her considerable bulk so that, from where Trinity stood, she was actually looking up at the scene, but relative to the world, they were looking down at it. Years serving on starships had taught her to ignore the discontenting feeling associated with such positioning.

Trinity had seen destruction on this magnitude before, but usually the targets had been of a military nature, not unarmed space stations crewed by civilian personnel. The outpost hadn’t even had a starfighter squadron to defend them.

“Who did this?” Ton asked softly, almost to himself.

“Evidently not your Republic.” Trinity replied, watching as a piece of stray metal impacted with the Avatar’s shields and vanished in a haze of pink light. “The Republic did not slaughter innocents.”

“Bhindi might disagree with you.” Ton pointed out, referring to the death of the Grand Moff’s father at the hands of Leia Organa Solo during the Empire’s invasion of the Corellian system.

Trinity did not respond, but instead pulled herself away form the viewports, turning to the ship’s XO.

“Pull the ship back into a holding position, launch our shuttles to examine the wreckage. I want all the information we can find on who did this, and why.”

She was halfway down the walkway when she was distracted by a yell from the crew pit below her.

“Captain! We have something. There’s… there’s someone alive out there!”

Trinity stopped, spinning back to the viewports. They were too far away to see a single body, only the wreckage that was slowly sinking closer to the planet. Soon its orbit would decay and it would enter Elyios’s atmosphere, where it would burn up. Where their survivor would die a horribly painful death, if the cold and lack of oxygen didn’t get to them first. How anyone had survived the attack and the prolonged exposure to vacuum was beyond her.

Ton was already taking action, issuing orders to the bridge crew.

“Get those shuttles launched now! If there’s someone out there, I want them brought onboard for treatment and questioning immediately.”

They recognized, despite his civilian dress and the cane he leaned on, his authority, and set about their tasks with a sharp nod from the XO.



Within minutes a shuttle had been dispatched, and they watched as it combed through the wreckage with a great deal of caution, searching for the single living member of Elyios’ sensor station.

“You said the Republic did not slaughter innocents.” Ton said, as they observed the shuttle go about its business.

“They didn’t.” Trinity replied, her lips pressed tight as she watched the shuttle wash its powerful lamps across the wreckage, searching for the survivor. “The Republic didn’t kill the innocent. If they wanted to blind us, they would have done it without killing all these people. They wanted to send us a message: ‘We are not the Republic’.”

“Then who are they?”

“I don’t know.”

The next hour passed in the same way, the Imperial ships now combing through the wreckage with greater speed and less caution. The Avatar’s sensors still showed something out there, alive.

“How are you still alive?” Trinity asked, speaking to herself. The Star Destroyer had taken up a geosynchronous orbit near the wreckage, and now the planet was rotating away from the sun, a shadow steadily creeping up her massive hull.

“Captain?” A nervous voice rose from the crew pit. “We’ve lost the contact.”

Trinity bowed her head, resting it against the viewport, and swore softly. But Ton, still standing behind her, had a strange look in his eye.

“No.” He said, almost to himself. “She’s still out there. Close to the ship. She’s… she’s in pain.”

Trinity did not ask how he knew. She ordered the Avatar’s spotlights brought up, and they focused somewhere off the bow. She thought she caught the glint of something as it was struck by the beam, but they were too far away to tell.

Minutes later, one of the shuttles landed in the main bay, the half-frozen and oxygen-deprived body of a middle-aged woman onboard. She was met in the hanger bay by a team of medics, and Trinity and Karlos, who could only watch as she was rushed from the cold bay to the ship’s infirmary.

“I wonder if she has any answers.” Ton wondered aloud.

Trinity gritted her teeth, thinking of the smashed space station.

“I hope so.”

Imperial Centre

The emergency meeting of the Imperial High Command had been called by Mirth Adder. Daemon Hyfe’s newest Counsellor was despised, by and large, by the Imperial bureaucracy, but the Emperor had seemingly taken a liking to the pale, shifty human, and now Adder could be found stalking the halls of the Imperial Palace, invoking the Emperor’s name to gain credence within the corridors of power. What went on behind the closed doors of Hyfe’s Throne Room was known only to His Liege and Adder himself, but in only a few short months the Counsellor had managed to manoeuvre himself into a position of some prominence within the Imperial hierarchy. It was widely believed that Adder had been responsible for the apparent split between Hyfe and Simon Kaine, the former Grand Marshall.

And he had achieved enough prominence, it seemed, that he could now call emergency sessions of the Imperial High Command to appease his appetite for power. Bhindi Drayson’s shuttle had landed fifteen minutes prior to the meeting, following a rushed journey from where the Acheron held at station-keeping deep in the Unknown Regions.

“Trinity’s report was sent only to the Bunker,” Deusvult Godridge was saying, struggling to keep pace with the Grand Moff as she strode down the corridor, Godridge juggling a datapad, file folder, and attaché case. “High Command knows only what Tagge told them, which is that we lost contact the sensor station.”

Bhindi nodded.

“Good. Mirth Adder has his thumb deep enough in our pie without us letting him know any more than is absolutely necessary.” She rolled her eyes. “How Hyfe doesn’t see through him, I don’t know. Is Kaine here?”

“No. Kaine is on Improcco. Telan is on assignment with the Guard, and couldn’t be spared, either.”

That stopped Bhindi.

“Who is here?”

Godridge consulted his datapad and shook his head thoughtfully.

“Adder, Hammond, Benello, and Firez.”

“Hardly a meeting of the High Command, then.” She said, running through the names. Admiral Horatio Hammond was a fleet commander with a decent enough track record that was mostly earned in simulation, with little front line service. But his father had been a wealthy businessman who had helped the Empire to take Imperial Centre, and his son had reaped the benefits. Benello likewise was ‘old blood’ – his family had been staunch supporters of Emperor Palpatine, and Senator Benello had helped swing the vote to affirm the creation of the New Order. Firez was probably the most competent of the three, being only a Vice-Admiral who had received a field promotion, and a seat on the IHC, for his role during the war with the Sovereignty. He was smart, which should have worried Bhindi, but by the same token, he was (presumably) smart enough to see through Adder, too. “Adder is trying to build himself an alliance.” She said with a smirk.

“It certainly looks that way.” Godridge agreed. “At any rate, I don’t think you have anything to worry about yet. The others are small-time, they won’t do anything without Kaine and Desaria here. And Adder alone doesn’t have any real authority.”

“Don’t underestimate Mirth Adder.” Bhindi said. “He’s managed to get in with Hyfe, and Hyfe is no fool. He could make life difficult for us.”

“Yeah. But Hyfe is old school Fleet. He knows you earned your position, and he knows you’re a bloody good soldier. Hell, if it wasn’t for you we’d still be fighting the fucking Demosthesians for control of the Core.”

“Fighting me, you mean.”

“Well, yeah. And probably loosing, unless Kaine and Hyfe tag teamed you.”

“I’m sure they’d like that.” Bhindi said with a thin smile. It had been a long time since she had seen the Commander (having assigned him to the capital as her eyes and ears) but she was glad to see he had changed little over the course of his assignment.

They entered the IHC room to find the others already seated. Adder had taken the chair at the head of the table, normally reserved for Kaine, and his followers had situated themselves around him. Bhindi ignored the fact that Admiral Hammond had taken her usual seat and instead took the remaining seat, with Godridge remaining standing at her shoulder.

“Gentlemen.” She said, by way of greeting.

“Grand Moff Drayson,” Adder said, his voice bordering on sarcasm as he relayed her title. “Thank you for making time in your schedule to visit us on such short notice.”

“I assume,” Bhindi returned in the same tone, “that you have a very good reason for having me come all the way back to Imperial Centre? You’re aware of my mission in the Unknown Regions.”

“Indeed, Bhindi. It is that very mission we’ve invited you here to discuss!”

Bhindi nodded, ignoring the insult that the use of her first name entailed.

“Well, go on, then.”

Adder, momentarily thrown by her lack of response, blinked.

“Yes… yes, of course. Why don’t you, er, begin by summarizing your mission for us?”

Because you don’t have the files right in front of you. She thought, glancing at her chronometer. Shouldn’t the Emperor’s Counsel have better things to do with his time?

“I’ll keep this brief. Several weeks ago Imperial Intelligence unearthed evidence of a rebel cell operating on Corellia. Analysis of the available intelligence points towards sympathies with the former New Republic, who formerly held their capital on that world.

“Around the same time, we began to suffer systematic raiding of our shipping between the Core and Csilla. My analysis indicates a correlation between these two events. I have assigned two of my best agents to investigate the incidents in the Unknown Regions, and Imperial Intelligence is looking into the activity on Corellia.

“All of this was in the report I filed two days ago.”

Adder ignored the jibe.

“And what possible reasons do you have to consider that the events taking place in the Unknown Regions are anything more than simple pirate raiders?” He asked, his lips spreading into a cruel smile that resembled an ancient bird of prey’s.

“The correlation has operational basis.” Bhindi returned evenly. “The details of which are classified at New Order level and cannot be discussed here. Suffice to say, the analysis is firm in the connection between the events and we are quite sure of our findings.”

Adder’s expression turned to that of shock, and his predatory smile vanished.

“For the purposes of this discussion, Grand Moff, I must insist that you reveal to the members of this meeting the reasoning behind your assertion that the two occurrences are related.”

“Impossible. You are aware of our laws, Counsellor. Imperial Intelligence has investigated the matter as per my instructions, and has reached the same conclusion. The raiding is related. I cannot go into further details at this time.”

“If the Grand Moff has reason to suspect a correlation, who are we to doubt her?” Benello said, speaking for the first time. “Imperial Intelligence agrees with her findings, and I suspect both Drayson and II are better versed in intelligence matters than any of us.” He did not look at Bhindi or Adder as he spoke.

Adder’s face began to glow red, and his eyes lit up. With a contemptuous glance at Benello, he returned his attention to Bhindi.

“Drayson, I am ordering you to reveal that information. Keeping relevant information from the High Command-”

“-is a necessary practise to preserve the security and stability of the New Order.” Bhindi cut him off. “The information in question is classified to protect the integrity of the operation and its operatives, Counsellor. Revealing details now would put the project and lives at unnecessary risk.

“Nor do you have the authority to order anything of me.”

“I am Emperor’s Counsel-”

“And I am a Grand Moff.” Bhindi returned calmly. “My orders come from the Supreme Commander and the Emperor himself. Not from his lackies.”

She held out a hand, and Godridge dropped a datacard into it. Fitting it into the slot in the table, a holo-image appeared in the middle of the room.

“Yesterday an Imperial sensor station on Elyios was destroyed by an unknown enemy force. The station in question was responsible for monitoring most of the Unknown Region’s sensor networks, including the Csilla system.

“This is a recording taken by a civilian on the ground at Elyios.” She said, staring at Adder, who was still fuming at the rebuke. The image showed what appeared to be a modified Star Destroyer firing on something too small to be seen. Pausing the clip, Bhindi pointed to the ship.

“This is a Corellia class Vlyx Battlecruiser. We’ve been unable to get an ID on her, but our records indicate the majority of the Republic’s remaining Vlyx ships were destroyed at Bastion – only three survived. This visual matches the description given by Captain Thrall of the freighter Galloway, of the ship that interdicted and raided him earlier this month, so we have reason to suspect there is at least one such ship still in operation.”

“That would suggest to me a warlord.” Admiral Hammon said, his eyes focused on Bhindi. “Probably a survivor of the Battle of Bastion, trying to scratch a living by raiding our convoys.”

“So it is a Republic warlord!” Adder said. Hammond’s support had reignited his confidence, and now he paraded the Admiral’s theory before the Grand Moff as gospel. “Preying on our shipping like the scum they are. This Corellia business is a coincidence, nothing more.”

Bhindi’s eyes flashed.

“I do not believe in coincidence, Counsellor. Our records indicate that three Vlyx Battlecruisers survived the battle of Bastion. None survived beyond a year after that. Of the three, one surrendered and was scrapped, and the other two were destroyed by Theren Gevel and myself in the Battle of Commenor.

“Furthermore, a simple warlord would not risk attacking an Imperial system. There is nothing to be gained from the destruction of the sensor station for a simple warlord – no money, no prisoners to ransom. There’s no motivation for a pirate attack here.”

Adder’s eyes widened, but it was Hammond who spoke.

“Assuming these events are related is hasty.” He said in his measured, aristocratic tone. Bhindi sensed he was trying to sound diplomatic. “We should continue to investigate, and keep this New Republic theory in reserve. There must be another explanation. If not pirates, than perhaps the Chiss are to blame.”

Bhindi shook her head.

“There is no other explanation.” She said, looking at each of the four men in turn. “The Republic is back, gentlemen. And they are growing more confident every day. They have at least one, possibly more, capital ships, and they have no problem with revealing themselves to us.”

Adder started to say something, but stuttered and instead simply glared the Grand Moff. Finally, he spoke.

“Very well, Drayson. You have the permission of the IHC to continue your investigation. But I am assigning Admiral Hammond to monitor your operations. You would be well advised to extend him every courtesy.”

Bhindi nodded.

“As you wish, Counsellor. Now, I have business that I must take care of. I am also in a rush, and I am sure the Admiral would like a few days to get his affairs in order before he departs, so I’m afraid we won’t be able to offer him transportation back to Csilla.”

She rose, nodding to Godridge, who spoke quietly into his comlink, and the two turned to go.

“And Counsellor?” Bhindi said, stopped and looking over her shoulder at Adder, “I would advise you to think of what you are going to say to Kaine when he returns and hears that you called an emergency session of the High Command and did not inform him.”



“You didn’t tell them about the survivor.” Godridge said as soon as the turbolift doors had closed.

“No. No need for Adder to know anything more than is absolutely necessary. He’s dangerous enough as it is. Besides, the survivor doesn’t help the investigation any. She didn’t see who her attackers were.”

“He’ll find out.” Godridge said. “He’ll talk to Hyfe and get New Order clearance.”

Bhindi shrugged.

“I would be surprised if he didn’t, Commander. But we’ll handle that when the time comes. For now, he bought the recording, and that’s what matters.”

“It was a forgery?” Godridge asked, surprised.

“Of course. It was pouring rain when the station was hit. Even if anything did live on Elyios, they wouldn’t have seen a thing.”

“Then why the story about the Vlyxs?”

“Because it was a Vlyx that intercepted the Galloway. Thrall’s description matches exactly. We showed him a image of one and he recognized it immediately.”

“And the numbers? There’s really none left?”

“There aren’t supposed to be any left.” Bhindi replied. “Which raises a very, very good question: where the hell did this one come from?”

Neither of them had an answer to that one.

The turbolift slowed to a stop, and the doors opened again. Together they stepped into the Grand Corridor.

“Firez didn’t say anything.” Godridge said at last.

“No.” Bhindi agreed. “Not surprising. He’s smart – smarter than Hammond or Benello, anyway. He wasn’t going to pick a side with both of us there.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

Bhindi shrugged.

“Adder can be very influential. Don’t forget he has Hyfe’s name on his side. Even if the Emperor didn’t know about this little meeting (and I doubt he did), that’s enough to put some fear into certain people.”

Bhindi stopped, turning to Godridge.

“I want you to talk to Firez. Adder is no fool, and he’ll do anything he can to bring him over to his side. We need Firez not to play his game. I know I’m right on this, and if we can convince Firez of that, he’ll side with us. He’s an Imperial – he cares more about the Empire than about personal power.”

Godridge nodded.

“No problem. I’ll just be charming.”

“You’re not charming. But you are intelligent. Talk to Firez, make sure he understands what’s at stake. If this Republic thing is as bad as I think it is, the last thing we need is Mirth Adder playing his bloody power games in the middle of a war.”

“You’re returning to the Acheron?”

“Today. But Adder doesn’t know that. He thinks I’m going to Csilla, and that’s where he’ll send Hammond. The Acheron is going to be under communications blackout, so go through Tagge or Trinity if you need to reach me.”

“I know the protocol.”

Bhindi smiled, a real smile, for the first time since arriving on the planet.

“Good.”

An hour later, Bhindi’s shuttle had lifted off and was making the jump to hyperspace.

Corellia

Corellia was a busy planet. Situated along the trade spine of the same name, it had been a haven for traders (both those of legitimate and less savoury backgrounds) for centuries. Since the rise of the New Order its allegiance had swung wildly between the Empire and the Rebellion, but for the last five or so years it had been a keystone of the New Order’s presence in the core regions. In the last war, the Galactic Coalition had made the mistake of attacking it, and in doing so learned the harsh cost of assaulting what was internally known as Fortress Corellia. It had also, for a brief period, served as the capital of the New Republic.

It was for that last reason that Commander (Brevet Commander, really) Merder found himself on the world, in the centre of the storm that Bhindi Drayson feared would soon be sweeping the galaxy.

The trouble was, nobody knew just what kind of storm they were dealing with. The consensus in the Intelligence community pegged it as a shit storm; unfortunately for the young commander, though, that was not one of Intel’s approved designations for the ‘incidents’ taking place within Lupercus Darksword’s fortress system.

“You ever been here before, kid?” The shuttle pilot asked, flashing Merder a toothy smile. The question was friendly enough, but Merder frowned nonetheless. His deployment to Corellia had not been listed on any official channels – he was travelling not as an Intelligence operative, nor even as a soldier, but rather as a ‘guest’ of the Empire, and travelling by civilian transport. Not to mention, the shuttle stank.

“No.” His training was clear: answer directly and clearly. Do not reveal anything about yourself. And, most importantly, do not reveal anything about your mission. Ever.

“It’s a nice enough place.” The man went on, taking the young man’s quick answer as a sign of interest. “Coronet, I mean. That’s the capital, but you know that of course. You read the file.”

Merder looked up, his hands reaching for his blaster.

“How do you know-”

“Because I read your file.” The man said with a grin. “Relax, we’re on the same side. I don’t have no fancy Imp training or nothing, but I know my way around Corellia. The Admiral brought me in for this one, real secret, right? Under the radar. Needed someone she could trust, see? Someone she could count on not to be compromised.”

“To keep an eye on me?” Merder asked without humour,

“In a manner of speaking.” The old man shrugged. “Corellia can be a rough place, and the Admiral, she’s right worried by this whole mess down there. Thinks something big is going on, you know? Wants to make sure everything goes her way. With COMPNOR stepping on Intel’s toes, it’s been real dirty down there. Probably why this thing has been allowed to go on as long as it has.”

Merder nodded, relaxing his grip on his blaster.

“How do I know I can trust you?” He asked cautiously.

“You’re here, aint you? If I wanted you dead, you’d be sleeping down there with the fishies.” Bringing the shuttle in low over Coronet, the old man gave him a friendly look. “I know who you are. Just promoted, assigned by the Admiral direct. Trying to make your mark. But you’re small fish out here, and there are a lot of sharks on Corellia.”

“So I am.” Merder said, sinking back into the seat. He found the pilot’s perceptions interesting and almost disturbingly accurate, and wondered vaguely what, if he was not a member of Imperial Intelligence, he was. He had contact with Admiral Drayson, anyway, and only she and Merder knew the true extent of his mission to Corellia. Or so he had thought.

“My job is make sure you stay here.” The man said, banking the ship and bringing it neatly down into its landing bay. “Speaking of which, here we are.”

COMPNOR’s Corellia headquarters eclipsed even their massive centres on the Empire’s other worlds. The Commission for the Preservation of the New Order had found a saint in Lupercus Darksword, the world’s enigmatic and oft-missing Diktat. The faltering organization had been reborn with a near-religious fanaticism, intent on spreading the Emperor’s word. Somewhere along the line, intelligence operations had been worked into its mandate, and the rivalry between COMPNOR and Imperial Intelligence was well documented.

Merder thought it rather odd, given the rivalry, that his first point of contact would be COMPNOR’s headquarters, but he was reminded of one of the maxims driven into him during his intensive training period: know your enemy, both the ones on the outside and on the inside. That, and if COMPNOR found an undeclared Intel operative on its home turf, they would be more than a little bit peeved.

“Commander. Welcome to Corellia.” He was greeted by a COMPNOR officer, dressed in the tan coloured uniform of his office. He recalled that COMPNOR officers were seldom addressed by any formal rank, but rather by the patriotic ‘Citizen’. Such was, apparently, their devotion to their manifesto.

“Thank you, Citizen.” Merder replied, shouldering his rucksack. “I am glad to be here.” The false pretence of friendliness between the two did little to hide the obvious displeasure of the COMPNOR man – Merder had detected an almost imperceptible recoil as he disembarked from the shuttle.

“Citizen-Director Cosworth would like to meet with you at your earlier convenience.” Which translated, roughly, as ‘right now’. The game finished, Merder nodded.

“Now will be fine. Please, lead the way.”

The other man smiled thinly.

“After you, Commander. I insist.” It was not lost on the young man that his counterpart kept on hand on his blaster the entire time. Clearly, no precautions were being taken for the Imperial Intelligence operative. Something akin to a vulture in the bird’s nest, Merder thought with an inward smile.

COMPNOR’s security precautions were elaborate. After passing through a specialized screening room that ensured he was carrying no active transmitters or recording devices, his sidearm was removed and placed in a secure lockbox, which his guide carried as they entered the centre of the building. Citizen-Director Coswroth’s office was located deep in the middle of the complex, no doubt so that some enemy of the Empire could not kill him with a well-placed RPG.

Cosworth himself was a bald, fat man, dressed in the same tan uniform as Merder’s guide. He did not stand as the young Commander entered (Merder had the impression the effort would have killed the old man), but instead offered a podgy hand from across his desk, which Merder shook.

“A pleasure.” Cosworth said with a weeze. “Always liked you Intelligence types. Very intelligent!” He laughed at his own pun, and Merder smiled.

“Thank you, Sir. I am quite a fan of COMPNOR’s work as well. Intel might have a handle on what’s going on today, but we must always look to the future, as they say.”

“Quite right, my boy!” Cosworth boomed. “A fat load of good all your work will be for if the Empire falls tomorrow. We’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

The tension between them was masked by the familiarity – that Intel considered itself above COMPNOR was widely known. Merder, for his part, kept the scorn out of his voice.

“If I may ask, Sir, about the situation on the ground here?”

Cosworth nodded.

“Of course. The Admiral sent me a brief outline of what she has – very brief, mind you – but it more or less meshes with what we’ve got. We’ve picked up some chatter, local stuff, you know. There are a number of Rebel cells we know of and monitor on a continuous basis. Anyway, they’ve been a little more active lately. Gearing up for something, I’d say.’

Merder nodded. This is exactly what he already knew from the reports he had read on the trip out, and did him little good. If this was the best COMPNOR had to offer, he thought, then their reputation as inferior to Imperial Intelligence was well founded.

“Now listen,” Cosworth went on, “while you’re on Corellia, you’re under my command, all right? This is COMPNOR’s turf, and I don’t want any of you Intel boys messing with our jurisdiction.” His tone was jovial, but Merder detected the menace in it. Cosworth was a man who, clearly, revelled in his own authority. Intelligence’s mandate gave it near-unlimited powers anywhere in the galaxy, of course, but stepping on to many toes could lead to some nasty complications. He would have to exercise caution while under Cosworth’s eye.

“Of course, Sir.” He replied amicably.

“Good! If there’s anything else you need, then, don’t hesitate to let Graeme there know. I’ll have him show you to your hotel, if there’s nothing else.”

“Nothing, Sir.” Merder replied, rising and shaking the Director’s hand. “Thank you very much.”

RCD Avatar… the Unknown Regions

The Avatar’s guest staterooms were located just one level above the ship’s brig, with a dedicated turbolift connecting the two levels. In less than a minute, should the situation warrant it, Stormtroopers could seal down the entire guest floor in less than a minute. This made it, in effect, little less than an extension of the brig itself, though none on the guest floor were informed of this particular precaution. This was done for practical purposes – those guests that were neither prisoners (strictly speaking) nor invited guests, and thus deemed potentially hostile, were needed (it was thought) of a little extra security. Given the Avatar’s connection with Imperial Intelligence, this was all the more crucial.

It was here that Lia Ryder found herself after her rescue from the destroyed Elyios sensor station. The Avatar had stopped only long enough to take her aboard, and pick up some of the wreckage for examination, before she turned and jumped from the system. With the brazen attack on the sensor station, and a rise in the number of attacks against Imperial shipping, Captain Ariel Trinity had become somewhat jumpy. As the Avatar continued its patrol of the front lines, she was especially careful not to stay in any one place for too long.

Lia was, of course, unaware of any of this from her room. She vaguely sensed when the ship made a jump to hyperspace, but she had no idea how long ago she had been rescued, or even where they were now. She had awoken in this room with no memory of the time she thought she must have spent in treatment (having been in the vacuum above Elyios for more than an hour), and nothing more than a short note from the Captain that told her little more than she already knew: that she was alive, and aboard an Imperial warship. The door was locked, and opened only three times a day for meals. There was a refresher in her room, and a computer terminal with a small selection of old holos for entertainment.

It was not the solitude that bothered Lia – she had been alone most of her life, and her brief time spent at the sensor outpost had been particularly boring – but rather the lack of information. She was an Imperial citizen, and yet here she was, locked up with no real explanation, aboard an Imperial warship.

She tried not to think about the attack, distracting herself with the few holofilms, or composing letters she could not send on the terminal’s built-in word processor. When she did, she remembered the feel of reassurance as the station’s weak shields held against the onslaught. That had quickly turned to horror as an explosion tore the wall out from the opposite side of the room – the shields had been breached – and the heavy blast doors slammed closed, cutting her off from her friends and co-workers. She knew, instinctively, that they were dead – no one could survive such explosive depressurization. She tried not to think about her friends – killed – without any warning or reason at all. Instead, she focused on her future – such as it was. She wondered where she was, why she was here, locked away in this room? If she was unimportant, surely they would have sent her home by now, on a shuttle to somewhere within the Empire. And if she was important, then why hadn’t they come to talk to her? If she was an asset, why had they left her here to stew? Trinity’s message aside, she had had no contact save for the solemn-faced soldier who delivered her meals, three times a day. Her queries to him had gone unacknowledged, though she could not blame him. He was an Imperial officer, and she knew he did not know any more than she did. He simply had orders. Such was the way the Empire operated.

So it was more than something of a surprise when the door opened unexpectedly, and there stood and young woman in an Imperial officer’s uniform. More than a uniform, but the black guise of an officer of the infamous Black Fleet. Behind her stood an older man, blonde haired, his face grim, dressed in what Lia took to be a cross between a uniform and a formal suite. He was holding a cane loosely in one hand, but did not put his weight on it. The woman wore an officer’s insignia that indicated she was a Line-Captain – Lia assumed her to be Ariel Trinity – but the man wore nothing, which discontented the programmer greatly. She knew little of the Imperial Fleet, but she thought that there would not be many serving aboard Star Destroyers who were not members of the Fleet or its attached Army divisions. She entertained briefly the thought that he was her lover, but dismissed it, for no Imperial Captain would display so brazenly a lover, not while on duty and on a warship of the Empire.

No, it was much more likely that he was with some branch of Imperial Intelligence. And that was why Lia Ryder was concerned – Imperial Intelligence had a reputation for making people disappear.

“Lia.” Trinity said, offering a wide smile to the young woman. “I’m Captain Ariel Trinity. I apologize that this meeting has not come sooner, it was my intent to visit your earlier, but duty calls, and there simply has not been time.”

Lia nodded uneasily, not moving from her position, halfway inside the room. She heard what Trinity said, but her eyes were fixed on the man, who met them coldly and did not show even a hint of a smile.

“Forgive me,” Trinity continued, “this is Ton Karlos, with Imperial Intelligence.” Lia nodded again, her worst fears now confirmed.

“A pleasure.” She managed.

“Please, don’t worry about Agent Karlos.” Trinity said. “He is not the faceless servant of the Empire the holovids would have you believe.” She smiled thinly at that. “And he is not here to do you any disservice. We simply need to know everything you can tell us about the attack on Elyios.”

Lia nodded again, not really having any idea what else to do. Moving to the bed, she sat herself shakily on it, and Trinity took the chair from the desk. Karlos remained standing near the doorway.

“I don’t really know…” She began.

“Just tell us everything.” Trinity said in a friendly tone.

Lia nodded, and began to recount her story, beginning with Ralen and his jokes. She spoke slowly and purposefully, recounting as much as she could remember. When she reached the part where the station was breached, she faltered, blinking back tears.

“You are no warrior, Lia. But you did well. How anyone could survive out there for so long – it’s a miracle your alive.” Trinity said.

Lia shook her head.

“No, no miracle. Someone had to tell the families of those men and woman how their loved ones died.” Her voice was bitter, but there was strength in it for the first time. The need for loved ones to know how their children died was not lost on the Captain – each time a soldier under her command died, she ensured the family knew how they died.

For the first time, Lia looked right at Trinity and asked a question: “Do you know who was responsible? Who did this?”

Trinity exchanged a look with Ton, who nodded.

“We think – we’re fairly certain, actually – it was the remnant of the New Republic.”

Lia said nothing, and Trinity offered a look of compassion for her.

“Look, tomorrow we’ll be sending you to Csilla on a shuttle, and from there the Empire will arrange passage to anywhere you like. News of the attack has not leaked yet, so your family won’t be worried about you. We just need to know one more thing. Where were you stationed before Elyios?”

Lia looked at the young Line-Captain, her eyes wet with unreleased tears.

“Corellia.” She said shyly. “I was stationed on Corellia.”

SSD Acheron

The foreboding presence of the Empire’s second-largest warship had not changed. Held at station-keeping not far from Csilla, her active sensors still reached into the nether regions of real space to examine the paltry flow of traffic into the Unknown Regions. What had changed was her company: the Avatar was a massive warship in any other circumstance, but here even her impressive bulk was overshadowed by the sheer enormity of the Super Star Destroyer. To an uninitiated observer the RCD might have looked like a baby animal sucking at the teat of her mother. For anyone versed in the designs of the Imperial Fleet, however, there was nothing remotely ‘cute’ about these two. The most accurate designation would be more along the lines of carnivorous monster, and even that did the pair a great disservice: there were ships in the galaxy more feared or respected than these.

“Captain,” a voice carried up from the crew pit, prompting Stremmins Joda to turn toward it, “shuttle Adder’s Bite reports it’s arrival and requests permission to land.” Joda shook his head ruefully: Mirth Adder’s self-gratuity was well documented, but naming an Imperial Fleet shuttle after himself approached new heights.

“Very good. Inform the pilot he may land in the main hanger bay. And inform the Grand Moff that Admiral Hammond has arrived.” He paused, thinking. “Belay that. Have the pilot land in the forward hanger bay. And I’ll talk to the Grand Moff myself.”

The conference room was located only a few decks below the bridge, and there Joda was not surprised to find the Grand Moff conversing with Trinity and Ton Karlos. The Avatar had arrived several hours ahead of the shuttle, and as Joda entered the three broke off their conversation.

“Grand Moff, I am sorry to disturb you.” He said, offering a proper salute. “I thought you would like to know: Admiral Hammond’s shuttle has arrived. I directed them to the forward hanger bay.” Drayson nodded, smiling thinly. The forward hanger bay was normally reserved for low-priority guests and baggage – it was cramped, without any room for the ceremonial honour guard that Hammond was no doubt expecting. Too, it was nearly ten kilometres from the bridge, and would buy the Grand Moff almost an hour before having to meet with the newcomer.

“Very good, Captain. I want you to meet the shuttle, and extend Admiral Hammond every courtesy. However, we are not to be disturbed under any circumstance. Further inform our guest that we are under communications blackout, and any messages he wishes to send will have to wait until we make our next dump.” She stopped, thinking, then frowned. “And sweep his shuttle. I have little doubt Adder will have had a tracking device installed, and we certainly can’t have him keeping track of us and disrupting our operations, can we?”

With that, the Captain was dismissed, and Bhindi turned back to Trinity and Ton.

“Adder’s meddling will not compromise our operation,” she said, her voice hard, “merely complicate them.”

Ton Karlos nodded, his dark eyes considering the Grand Moff. He had known Bhindi Drayson a long time, since before she had joined the Empire, in fact, and he was well aware that the business with Mirth Adder was bothering her. He also knew full well she was more than capable of dealing with the Emperor’s Counsel, and the way she tucked her hair behind her ear and picked up the next report on the table before her told the Intelligence agent she had already put the thought of Hammond’s arrival out of her mind.

“We’ve tracked the stolen fighters to here,” Trinity was saying, returning to the subject they had been discussing before the interruption. She indicated a spot on the map. “It doesn’t correspond to any maps we have of the regions, but that doesn’t mean anything. Our mapping effort in the Unknown Regions are spotty, and it’s likely we’re just haven’t found whatever it is there is to find.”

“Or their ship is simply holding position in the middle of nowhere.” Ton returned, thinking.

“Unlikely. It’s too dangerous – if you want to avoid detection, you don’t sit still. You move.” Trinity said.

“Normally, yes,” Bhindi said slowly, “but out here, who knows.” She considered the spot on the map. “Trinity, I want you to find out. Take the Vesper with you – whatever’s there, destroy them.”

“Admiral, I have to warn you, I don’t like this,” Ton was still looking over the map. “If they suspect that we’re tracking the fighters, it might be a trap.”

Bhindi’s eyes flashed.

“Oh, it is almost certainly a trap, Agent Karlos. But the Empire can bring far more weight to bear against these bastards than they can hope to cope with.” She smiled thinly, her eyes dark. “Take your ships, Captain, find out that they are doing, and destroy them.”

Trinity nodded, taking that as her cue to leave. Ton watched her leave, his face etched with concern.

“Admiral, I am not certain this is the right course of action. If this enemy is as dangerous as you think-”

“Trinity will gauge their strength.” Bhindi said, matter of factly. “Do not presume that I do not have the Captain’s best interests at heart, but remember: this is war, Agent Karlos. Sacrifices must be made.”

Ton nodded. The Admiral had spoken: no amount of pleading on his part could change that. They returned to the discussion, but he was still bothered.

“What about our agent on Corellia? Has he been updated?” Bhindi asked, shifting to Lia Ryder’s revelation.

“Lieutenant Merder is aware of the situation, yes. He’s looking into it, but if they managed to slice into our files to change her history, they’re probably inside of the organization. He’s trading carefully.”

“Tell him time is of the essence. She was transferred for a reason – the fact that they tried to kill her now tells us something. I’m just not sure what.”

Karlos nodded.

“I’ll be going to Corellia myself, Admiral, as soon as I’m finished here.”

Drayson nodded.

“Good. Right, then. I have to go meet our guest,” her eyes flashed, “inform me before you leave for Corellia.

“And good luck.”

Elyios

It was something Gash Jiren had pioneered. Something that, ironically, the returned Grand Admiral Thrawn had used against him during his great campaign against the Rogue Jedi Order. Then, even the Force had not been enough to show Jiren the warning signs of that imminent, devastating invasion.

There would be no warning this time, either: the ships came out of hyperspace in perfect unison, three massive, winged beasts driving in hard as though the whips of their demon master himself were behind them. The Imperial reconstruction fleet was not heavily armed, nor where they expected a fight. The incoming ships showed no mercy, and soon explosions filled the space above the planet as turbolaser batteries tracked and fired with deadly accuracy, blasting the Imperial craft out of the sky.

Elsewhere, not far from here, another group of ships was making the same sort of assault on another world. Jiren’s strategy was simple: take two worlds from which to stage an assault on a third, more important planet. With the sensor station at Elyios already destroyed, the Empire would have no idea what was coming for them. By the time they sent a fleet out here to respond, it would be to late.

As the last of the Imperial ships was destroyed, the young commander of the armada smiled grimly. Anyone seeing her might think it was the fire of the burning Imperial craft reflected in her brown eyes that gave them an eerie glint, but in truth it was nothing of the sort. She reflected for a moment on the death of the men and woman here today. It was not a great toll, compared to what was to come. Compared to what the Empire had caused. But it was enough.

“We cannot win if we are unwilling to kill,” she thought to herself, quoting one of her instructors. By now, with the Imperial fleet destroyed, her ships had slowed down, opening fire now against the largest of the Imperial ships, the construction droid responsible for rebuilding the broken sensor station.

She almost laughed as the great droid began to panic, its plasma cutters useless against the shields of the warship. The turbolaser gunners calmly brought their fire against the thing, cutting through its thin armour and exposing its vulnerable inards.

Fifteen minutes later, the battle was over, the massive droid reduced to so much molten metal drifting in a lazy orbit above Elyios. The three ships stood sentinel over the system, the flaming wreckage of the Imperial fleet slowly being pulled in by the gravity of the planet, where they would eventually perish.


RCD Avatar

The ship’s battle alert sounded with five minutes left before their arrival. The clattering of feet on the ship’s decked signalled that everyone was quickly getting into position: officers buckling in, Stormtroopers taking up defensive positions in case the ship was boarded, fighter pilots running their pre-flight checks. Aboard the Vesper the same thing would be happening: crews finishing their final tests, the Captain giving last minute instructions.

With two minutes left until hyperspace terminus, the ships’ blinders were opened and her guns armed.

With one minute, Captain Ariel Trinity buckled her crash webbing and nodded to the ship’s XO. The countdown was issued, and as it reached zero the two ships slowed from hyperspace velocities to emerge into realspace.

Another alarm sounded, this one warning everyone that they had arrived and battle was imminent. Guns began to track, searching out a target. Shields were raised, the hanger bay doors ground open to launch fighters.

“Hold.” Trintiy ordered, slamming her fist on her armrest. “They’re not here.”

Indeed, the naked eye could see as well as sensors that the region was empty. There was nothing here. The coordinates given by the transponders installed in the fighters had been very exact, and there was nothing here. They were gone.

But freshly gone: the data stream was live, self updating whenever the fighters were in realspace. If the transponder was not picking them up, then they had to be in hyperspace. Unless the enemy had found them. Unless this was nothing more than a clever ruse, a trap.

“Do we still have data on them?” Trinity asked, pouring over the sensor readings. If this indeed were a trap, there should be enemy vessels nearby, or coming out of hyperspace at any moment. But there was nothing, only empty space.

“No, Captain. We’ve lost the signal.”

Trinity swore.

“Plot the points they could reach in the time since we jumped to hyperspace. I want those ships found. And plot us a hyperspace jump to friendly space: I don’t want to stick around here any longer than we have to.”

The crew nodded, and Trinity sagged into her seat. This had been their best chance to find those responsible for the Elyios attack, and now they were gone. She wondered if they had found the trackers, or if they had known they were there all along. Or if there was a traitor in their midst.

“Captain?” A voice called from the crew pit, “We’ve plotted their likely jumps. Assuming their heading somewhere that’s actually on our charts, and assuming their still in hyperspace, they’re going to Elyios.”

“No.” Trinity said quickly. “That doesn’t make sense, there’s nothing at Elyios. They already wiped out the sensor station there, there’s nothing of value left in the system.”

“With respect, Captain, there is a sizable reconstruction fleet there. They might be after the materials, the sensor equipment.”

“Maybe,” the Captain said quietly, recalling a history lesson about the late Grand Admiral Thrawn. “Or maybe not. Alert the task force, have them make all possible speed to Csilla. Get us underway to Elyios, relay that to the Vesper.”

The crew reacted as she expected: they did not question the orders, but leapt to obey, bringing the ship around and preparing it for hyperspace. As the Avatar accelerated beyond the speed of light, Trinity bit her lip.

“Gods help us if we’re too late.”

Corellia

“Where in the name of the Sith are we, anyway?” Merder asked, adjusting the rucksack on his shoulders and biting back the multitude of worse curses that he was very tempted to aim at his guide.

“Watch your mouth, kid.” The shuttle pilot shot back, his cracked face taught with concentration as he strove not to slip on the lose rocks. “There aint many things out there worse than the Sith. Twitchy fuckers, they are.”

Merder shook his head. The old man had been making snide comments about the Sith since they had set out on this fool’s errand. Merder had read the same rumours he had about the Sith, and he had no reason to believe they were anything more than the ramblings of deranged rebel sympathizers. The Sith were no more a threat than the damn Rebels.

Which, Merder thought as he nearly tripped over rise in the floor, might be a little more of a threat than we thought.

“This cave used to be used by a rebel cell.” The other went on, looking over his shoulder and casting the beam of his torch over Merder. “Imperial Intelligence located the base and managed to get a mole in, fed a lot of valuable information about the group before he was caught.”

“Yeah? And what happened to the rebels?”

“Imp Intel let the Army know, and the Army firebombed the hell out of the place.” The old man’s voice was bitter. “Killed a lot of people and their families in the process.”

Merder stopped.

“The rebels had their families here with them?”

“Course. Most of the high level types were wanted by the Imps, couldn’t just leave their families out there to be kidnapped or killed. Most tried to get them off world, but there were plenty here when the Imps came down on the place.”

“What did they think? That the Empire wouldn’t find their base? Or that if they did they would let all the civilians go before they came in? The rebels were dumb to think they were safe, even here. Even dumber to put their families in harm’s way.”

The old man didn’t say anything, he just raised his torch so the beam of light played across a large, cavernous room. The rock here was roughly hewn, as though it had been slowly expanded by hand, and not by the droids and heavy machinery Merder normally associated with underground facilities.

“They built this place by hand?” He asked, astonished in spite of himself.

“Bits and pieces.” The other responded, not moving from the entrance. Merder was circling the room now, shining his light across the walls and examining the old equipment that still littered the room. Anything valuable would have been removed by Imperial Intelligence, he knew, leaving only outdated and useless junk behind.

“Most of the base was part of an old mining complex that was shut down several centuries ago. But the tunnel we came in through, and this room, the rebels added as an escape route in case the Empire ever came in.”

“Didn’t do them much good, did it?” Merder asked.

“They didn’t expect the Empire to just blast the place. They expected to have a fighting chance – if the Empire had sent their stormies in, the rebels could have held long enough to get their families out.”

Merder stopped his examination of the walls and returned to where the old man was standing.

“You said you’re not with Intelligence. How do you know all this, then? Why do you care?”

The old man shrugged. “It don’t matter how I know it, or why I care. What matters is what you think.”

“Think about what?”

“Take a closer look at that computer equipment.”

Merder turned back to the terminals he had dismissed earlier. There was nothing particularly interesting about them – they were old, probably pre-Empire, by the looks of them, and scattered around the outside walls, obviously where they had been left when Intelligence had cleared out the base.

Looking closer, though, he realized that while the casings were old, the screens themselves did not show the same signs of wear. The power cords looked almost new, and were neatly bundled and all plugged in.

“That tunnel,” He said slowly, straightening and looking on the outside casing for a power switch, “You said the rebels dug it out themselves.”

“That’s right.”

Merder found the power switch, and with a thin smile, flipped it.

“Then it wouldn’t have been on any of the old records. Even if the Empire had pulled the data, they wouldn’t have known this room was here.”

The terminal was going through its boot sequence. The screen flashed a symbol, something Merder did not have time to catch before data was filling the screen. He couldn’t read it, but he saw a number of options and in the bottom, an entry field.

“The Empire never did find this room, did they?” He asked slowly, turning back to the old man.

“No.”