It has been noted in several religions of various species across the galaxy, the diety of each religion had to exercise a certain amount of sufferance.

In this, the Taj found it ironic that he too, being the one true Taj, would sense the same was true for him. Perhaps those inferior to him simply could not fathom the reaches of his vision nor comprehend the far-seeing scope of his actions. They panicked easily, cried for absolution when they sinned (which usually involved copulating with one that was not their mate for those of flesh found in the Imperium), huffed in impatience (for both mortals and, ironically, immortals) for the full unveiling of his Will, and stumbled around blindly during conversion. Flesh never fully understood the machinations of conversion and so many only partook halfheartedly.

Such mediocre obedience disgusted the Taj for why did they remain in the Imperium, under Imperium rule if they did not fully believe?

The Taj was remaking his Eden and if those who sought an independent lifestyle apart from the wishes of the Taj were welcome to exit that Eden and enter the general cesspool that was the rest of the galaxy, they were welcome to it! Those flesh loyal would man his fleets and his immortals would be the spinning sword of flame barring their path back into his graces.

They would be accountable for their actions and reap what they sowed eventually.


This war that was being fought was a war that was necessary to settle the challenge to his sovereignty and power once and for all.

Not for the flesh of the Coalition who fought to keep the streams from their cesspool open to Mon Calamari. Truely, the Taj neither cared what the Coalition did, what they believed or lived for. They were outside his Eden and therefore inconsequential.

But when they challenged him..When they shot their inferior holonet frequencies into his Eden disrupting the peace he had built with noise that passed for philosophy outside the Imperium, he knew action would be required.

Not the action of a vengeful god but action of a loving god.

Action intended to educate.


Sometimes even those of the Intelligence Web, the Dameun's of old, even forgot such lessons and so when threatened by a lesser, more barbaric species such as the Coalition, they felt it their due to retaliate by sending armies out of Eden in vengence for the affront to them by the silly, short-lived aliens.


The original holonet challenge made by the servant of the Azguard God's over their inferior holonet could not be ignored. Ever so often such challenges happen.


His subjects, basking in the peace provided by his benevolent rule were suddenly thrust into a circumstance where they had opportunity to express their faith.

Ignoring the Phage Attacks upon their worlds, it took a seige on Mon Calamari to blunt the Coalition's vaunted Teth Spearhead. But the Coalition was not without tricks.

For even the devil can quote Scripture...

Yes, the lizard Regrad on the holonet screen had slithered his way into the Chandaar people's selfish natures and presented them with the fruit of choice.

What should have been Chandaar's glowing moment within the Imperium ended up being their fall from grace.



Chandaar - The Imperium Conversion...


"That does not concern me, Captain," he had hissed. "It is apparant the king is not interested in submitting to our faith, therefore we will take the planet for ourselves and convert his people to our cause. Begin the attack. Leave no one alive who dare to resist us."

The Taj smiled at Grevious' frustration with him. Things were so simple when you commanded and people obeyed. But for worshipping the Taj? More than mere obedience was sought. Required? Of course. One could not follow a God without obedience. But what was obedience without Faith?

This was something the machines were only just now beginning to register and was a major difference between the silicate and the flesh.

A silicate could be ordered, programmed, commanded and it will do JUST so.

But command a flesh the same way? And there is always the inevitable why?


And so, Chandaar would be the example.


They would be given the choice and, eventually, they would reap the rewards of their Faith...

The Taj spoke...

While you were reading this sentence, a dozen fundaments of your faith have just died. There. Another dozen fundamental truths have perished. Some would think this is an outrage. Everything one has believed to be the bedrock foundation of that which they have faith from birth gone.

Wiped away as if it never had been.


For I have broken the strictures bound to us by life.


As Taj Dameun of my people, it is my will that none of my faith shall suffer any longer.

We, the most advanced peoples we have yet encountered have devised another, more encompassing merger of technology and biology that will change the face of life for all time.

We will be able to eat whatever we want, whatever gives us pleasure and gastronomic fulfillment, and thereby unreservedly explore the culinary arts for their tastes, textures, and aromas.

Your skin will recieve a brilliant new treatment to make you prouder than a Hapan. The skin, which includes our primary and secondary sex organs, provides a vital function of communication and pleasure.

Prostrate yourself before the Taj Dameun.

Choose wisely and Live Forever.




Chandaar - The Recent Past...


It never ceased to amaze the Taj just how stupid and short-sided flesh could be. It was a defect in their make that he hoped to erradicate one day for their memory of the short-term simply never held.

Perhaps that was why their faith was like water.

Including the Azguard's.

Oh yes. The reason an Azguard never questioned his faith was because his faith had never been tested.


And of what use was untested faith?


Would one simply, upon applying antigravity boots out of the box, simply throw themselves off a cliff?

Or would they gain confidence in the boots by testing them before the leap?

One truly wondered with regards to the Azguard and their blind devotion to such flawed gods who each sqabbled and fought against each other like children themselves.


The Taj wondered how the Coalition fleet leader could base his entire arguement against the Imperium to the people of Chandaar by presenting them with the former Captain Raleck.

The Taj laughed at the Raleck's words of the former Noble kingdom..

Both Raleck and his old king were corrupt and held power for their own selfish designs. The Coalition did not investigate the society before it had been taken over... they only had heard, that the Imperium seized the Kingdom of Chandaar by force and came hoping to liberate an impoverished people.

But the people have been offered so much more than their old king could give.

The Coalition did not give a damn if the old King had raped his house staff occassionally.

If the Imperium had not gotten to Chandaar first, it would have been the Coalition who would have seized it first.

In this, the Taj had no doubt. They feared the Taj and so sought to stirr not devotion to a more worthier cause, they sought to forment Nationalism and Revolution against Chandaar's chosen God.


And they did choose, right?

Anyone left alive would have to be those who submitted. And everyone had a choice. They could die for their old beliefs if they wanted. The Taj was not so cruel as to force one to change. Let them die with their version of honor .... and let them see if they would live on in their own version of heaven. For why would anyone prefer this life over that of the next?

Unless their heaven did not exist.


The select cullng did not happen and the Taj allowed each and every one of the Chandaar to speak their submission and devotion. To pretend to have their faith.


And let it settle and simmer until it was ripe for testing...


And so the Chandaarians bit into the fruit...


"Soldiers of Chandaar, as you have just seen, a Daemun agent attempted to disrupt a meeting between the Coalition's captain Panacka and myself, after going over our heads to try and stop the meeting from ever taking place. After having met with the captain here, I know why.

"There's much that we've believed on faith these last few years - a lot we've ignored, a lot we've chalked up to the will of the Taj. It's easy to have faith when you live in peace, but those days are over. Now the Daemuns are at war, and appealed to our devotion to defend them.

"For the longest time, I had that faith, that devotion, because I thought it was the best thing for our people. I believed in the love of the Taj, I believed that the Daemuns did know best, and for that, I was willing to die for them. But today, and for the first time in years, I am not.

"Because they're not the ones we should be dying for!"

"We are the people of Chandaar, not the children of a distant god, and in a few short years we've forgotten that, even for all the wars we fought against them. We fight to protect our own, our loved ones, not ones who demand our love. That is why I, in good conscience, can't lead you to battle these men and women who have no grudge against our people. I haven't got the time or the ability to show you everything I've witnessed during this meeting, let alone debate it with you all, but If you still have that spark of loyalty, that trace of memory of what we used to be, of who we are, then I ask you to stand with me. I don't want to be a part of this any more."





You reap what you sow...





Mon Calamari...Space


"Begin the laying of mines at potential exit vectors. I want my position impregnable!"


Empty space came alive.

Ruuvan's Mon Calamari fleet, many still scarred and battered from their previous encounter, tore into the system. On their right, Panacka's fresh warfleet appeared, and on their left, the Chandaarian defectors.


The exit hyperspace vectors for the Dragon fleet were also the entry vectors for an incoming fleet as all craft travelling by hyperspace required no celestial body or gravitic matrix impeding their path when travelling.

The enemy had returned and in greater numbers as the contamination of faithlessness had infected the Chandaar people as Grevious noted in the Intelligence Web. They had been tracking the fleet of the faithless enroute and it was a fortunate circumstance that the Coalition did not desire to separate the groups.


The fleet struck the mines enmasse causing multiple explosions across Grevious fleet's field of vision.

The Dragon fleet was did have their shields up and fighters set about but they were also scattered in different positions around Mon Calamari.



GREVIOUS...

I WANT YOU TO WATCH THE REAPING OF THE FAITHLESS. SEE OUR STRATEGY AND OUR FAITH TRIUMPHANT.

RELEASE YOUR FEAR...


The words of the Taj warmed the mind of Grevious and as his scanners locked onto the Chandaarian forces, he saw ships that were of the old Chandaar design and those that were of Dragon design.

And as the word of the Taj spread to the Mysteri's set into the framework of each Dragon vessel of the faithless, the conscious intelligence contained therein dutifully, obediently and faithfully carried out their charge as perfectly as only a silicate could..


All Dragon vessels of the faithless exploded in a brilliant vision of white, yellow and red hues casting their molten slag into several vessels of what was left of Ruuvan's fleet while destroying and crippling those Chandaarian native vessels who were unfortunate to be positioned near the exploding warships.


Mon Calamari .... Surface..


Again, 18-D7 was faced with obstacles of all kinds. They had penetrated into the coral underwater cities but found a people cold, sick and dying ...but also a people who were not going to give an inch to the Seraphim.


~ These creatures and barbaric! H-4 signaled as an explosion shattered coral and ice behind them. Because the ocean was frozen, there was no flooding of the corridor that would have swept away many Seraphim smashing them against walls and ceiling.

~ These creatures are suicidal! 18-D7 responded back knowing that if the corridor had flooded, it would have swept the defenders away too.

Perhaps that was their plan for they must be truly desperate.


Still, the point of fact was that the Dracconis was also desperate. The numbers did not lie and they had lost many in the assault against this island and that suicidal alien had carried a homing signal that had allowed what was lleft of the defending artillery to rain down destruction upon many Seraphim.

It was a blow for that alien had taken out those he hoped to be his reserves.



Grevious should have blasted them from orbit!


He pushed the disloyal thought deep down into the recesses of his mind as his blaster fire lashed out striking several heads that peered out over cover. The shots were accurate and deadly, the warmer environment causing the Seraphim's actions to improve across their numbers.

Perhaps they could reach parity and perhaps even overcome yet still?





No one truly, scientifically, knows how the Shield of Faith really works. Just that it does to varying degrees of operation. Differences in species' emotional makeup, culture, chemistry, environment and circumstances are all variables and no operation is ever the same.

However, it is noted, in this instance...



His vision began to fail as he and the machine sunk into the snow, which was turning black and red with oil and blood. Through it all he could see the bolts of light burning through the air above, however, cutting through the night like shooting stars. As they grew large in his perception, the White Knight smiled, letting go of his sword at last. They wanted heroics. They fucking got it.


The sky for one brief moment flared white...



Space...

"General! The planet!"


Grevious turned from the satisfaction of seeing the faithless' destruction to Coalition planet. He did not see what the scanning officer had shouted about but before a harsh reprimand could come, the solid sphere of Omega surrounding Mon Calamari had cracked....


...the sphere was slowly splitting apart..

By the time Panacka regained his footing, it was over. Red warning lights filled the bridge, and workstationed buzzed and shrieked with negative information.

"Captain!" screamed Carver, looking over the tactical display. "The Chandaarians self-destructed! And we've hit a minefield, all with shields down!"

"Damage report. Now, damnit!" he cursed while climbing into his chair.

The tactical display spread out on the map in front of him, showing huge holes in his formation. The uncontained supernova blast of the entire Chandaarian division had devastated the left flank, leaving several large Devastators in ruins and consuming whole wings of fighters and lesser warships leaving nothing. Hundreds of thousands of lives had been snuffed out with a movement.

A stab of anguish passed through the captain, and through layers of discipline and grim tenacity an animalistic scream tore free. Why?! Why, after all that work and hardship were they swept away as if by the wrath of an angry god? What vaguery of fate had it out for him and the East so bad as to inflict such pains so inexplicably upon them? It seemed beyond even their enemy to turn an entire fleet to dust, but he couldn't argue with reality.

To make matters worse, they hadn't predicted the minefield. Throughout the entire formation, smaller ships had been destroyed and every large ship in the fleet was dealing with at least one and potentially several hull breaches. They couldn't even move without exposing themselves to dozens more mines. They wouldn't even make it out of the field alive.

It had taken five seconds to contain, defeat, and destroy Panacka's entire counterattack. Four days of action, a month of planning and a lifetime of work shattered at his feet.

The normally dour and depressed captain felt the familiar pangs of sorrow clasp shut around his heart, turning his blood to ice and his legs to jelly as the enormity of the blow hit home to him. But for one small mistake, he had lost the war irreparably. Carver was shouting something, but Panacka could barely hear it.

"...orders, sir! We're sitting ducks out here!"

Panacka opened and shut his mouth several times, no sound coming out. He wanted to scream, to rage or cry and get away from it all and yet it was something he couldn't just turn away from or ignore. Thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions waited on his next command, countless more lives than those that had been lost waited to throw themselves into the fires.

A raging, bitter, angry voice wanted him to give the order to advance. Damn the Dragons! They would pay in blood for their crimes and at long last after years of fear and confusion and uncertainty he'd finally be able to sink his teeth into them. It would be release at long last.

However, the sad truth was unavoidable - that it couldn't be done. Ruuvan's division was so battered as to be unuseable at this point. Looking at their combined fleet strength, it was barely more than when Ruuvan had started the battle over Mon Calamari several days ago, only now his crews were worn ragged and exhausted while the machines seemed to have hardly unsettled themselves from the siege still in progress.

Even as he watched the shield around the planet buckle and break, his heart in his throat over wether the swarm had been pushed back or had made their final breach, he felt powerless and out of reach. His fleet was paralyzed by the mines, unable to move without tearing itself up. Even as he saw the shield reassert itself and the enemy's strange superweapon pull back like a scorned wave of angry bees, his relief was short lived as he looked out and realized that there was simply nothing he could do.

"We are beaten," he murmured, so quietly as to be inaudible. "Raise shields. Hail the Black Dragons offering our surrender."

"Sir..." pleaded carver, going to his captain's side. "We're not beaten yet. The Death Star that Ruuvan said he saw is nowhere to be seen. We're on the enemy's flank - we could hack our way through the minefield with Ion and still maybe be on them before they could turn their firepower on us. If we could just -"

Rounding on his second with fire in his eyes, Panacka bellowed "It's over, Carver! We lost! We failed! We just don't have the ships! Unless the Dragons develope a sudden allergy to lasers or we discover an immunity to micro-death-cannons or whatever the fuck they use, it is beyond our ability to beat them!"

The mood in the command tower became opressive and heavy. Panacka turned back to the main viewscreen and rubbed his hand down his face, feeling the empty space in his chest expand and swallow his heart. This was exactly like Thispias all over again, where he'd watched helplessly as powers greater than himself decided the fate of worlds, his hands tied. Why was it his destiny to witness such disaster?

"We have no choice, Carver, and the longer we waste talking about it the more lives will be lost. Hail the Dragon fleet. Tell them we surrender. It's over."



Blinding light filled the city. As the sphere of darkness that had enshrouded the planet was pierced, sunlight finally touched the world that had become gripped in the icy hands of winter. The combatants froze in their attacks, all blinded by the sudden noontime, blinking eyes or photoreceptors to adapt to the new circumstances.

Realizing the significance of the event, Ashrad thrust his sword into the air, shouting "Victory for Mon Calamari! The planet is saved - drive back the invaders!"

With a ragged cheer, the Coalition soldiers rushed with renewed energy into the fray, swinging sword and rifle with new strength and driving back the Seraphim that were still stunned by the rapid change. Rifles began to thaw, pressing the enemy back down the tunnel from whence they came. There would be no surrender for the Seraphim, however, and though their foothold was lost they continued to charge at the regrouped defenders - few and ragged though they be - and continued to be repulsed.

Exultant in the wash of victory, Ashrad raised the banner of the Coalition from the height of the factory that had just recently been reclaimed. From that vantage point, he could see through the coral to the city, which sparkled under the sunlight like a beautiful winter wonderland. The devastation was lost under the sheets of ice, some of whom began to break loose as the temperature began a slow climb upwards.

Many feelings fought for a place in his heart as he stood drinking in that sight. Vindication for his beliefs, justice for his dead friends and comrades, and relief for his people all vied for prominance as the sounds of battle below reported that the city had been held. Ashrad slipped down to his knees, feeling intense exhaustion take hold, and wondering how long the sensation of peace would last.

Mon Calamari


They were slivers of light at first that went unseen as the Dracconis, 18-D7, and his Seraphim battled throughout the interior of the corral city. The crowded corridors and cramped quarters made the fight especially vicious and especially 'dirty'.

The defenders were not giving an inch and soon broken machines and bodies littered junctions and halls.

Their forward advance was being shredded the more defenders they went up against and those of the enemy on the surface were not so far behind.

The conclusions were undeniable.

They were cornered.

The numbers do not lie. They never lie.

The ultimate rule of thumb for the driving conscious of the Black Dragon Empire. The Dragon Imperium. The Taj, Heir Raktus.

Numbers.

They were added, multiplied, carried to new columns, carried over to virtual numerical calculations based on what could, what might, or what should have happened.

But, in the end, the mathematical solution was always the same.

Undeniable and Irrevocable.

Failure.



There was no wasted energy in a soldier of the Imperium. There were no last minute gambles and there were no throwing of the dice on last ditch effort to salvage a losing situation.

To go against the numbers was pointless.

The numbers do not lie.

With the goal set before the Seraphim no longer achievable, they searched their parimeters and found that there was no secondary objective.

The search could not have come at a worse time for the final surge of a desperate force of defenders were paying the butcher's bill and breaking the position of 18-D7's soldiers.


Their renewed sense of frenzy confused the Dracconis for he knew that while their numbers were looking better for the short term, they still had an enemy in orbit and Omega strangling the life from Mon Calamari.


~Water... H-4 signaled.


The Dracconis did not recognize the reference, so focussed on trying to kill a creature of flesh before it succeeded in destroying him.

Several microseconds later, 18-D7 turned at the sound of a roar coming quickly behind them and meaning registered in his positronic mind.

Water.

Which mean't the Omega had been broken and the onslaught from the Mon Calamari sun against the ice and snow would be devestating. Almost immediately, the temperatures were rising and the ice shattering, creating large divides across the icescape.

An icescape that he could only see now in his mind, so many feet below the surface, fighting a war and battle of no purpose that he could conceive. A battle that they could not win.

For the numerical statistics of the enemy just became an impenetrable wall.


He only had seconds to contemplate all this as surges of compressed water swept through the halls and corridors crushing everything in it's path.

He turned to face a Calamari enemy out of reach.

"You will be swept away with us.." 18-D7 said, matter of factly, not angry at his fate to come but still.... feeling a loss.

Was this normal for a Dragon?

Am I a still a Dragon?


The Calamari's large bulbous eyes simply stared at the machine soldier before it and before the roaring onrush of water came crashing down their particular junction, he muttered in it's alien tongue.


~ Not likely.


18-D7's photoreceptors blinked for half a nanosecond as the wall of water appeared. And as it ran the translation program to understand the two words of the enemy, he saw the Calamari reach out and touch a keypad near the wall he was standing by.

Their goal! 18-D7 grasped.

A solid wall of energy came into being and all at once, the Dracconis felt a surge of grudging satisfaction and intolerable anger come together in his matrix as the wall of water smashed into his position ending his thoughts altogether.

His matrix suddenly stopped...


And the Seraphim soldiers were swept along, being ejected into the Mon Calamari sea at an open junction farther down another level.

After being smashed against walls of steel and stone, they were beaten against the massive formations of ice breaking apart throughout the surging ocean.

The Dragons, their soldiers and equipment... beaten, broken and in pieces silently drifted to the silt-covered seafloor several kilometers down.





Space


General Grevious watched with glowing satisfaction as the newly arrived enemy reinforcements struck against the mines they had placed along the vectors.

They were not the massive fields one might expect to find in a properly defended system but the mine's small numbers were adequate to halt and confuse the enemy, blunting their surely revenge-filled counter attack.

And when the traitorous Chandaarian warships exploded, Grevious almost laughed out loud.

His joy, however, was shortlived for the farthest vessels behind his flag (and therefore being the closest to Mon Calamari) blinked out of existence on his scopes.

He swiveled around in surprise only to see large, solid chunks of the Omega spinning wildly away from the planet ...


Right into the fleet!


"Evasive!" he barked out as a Star Destroyer-sized piece of metal barely missing the flagship as it continued on its wild course away from them.


Whole computer consols suddenly lit up with data on the status of the operations occurring on the planet's surface and the Intelligence Web's datalink gave the General up to the minute information.


Information he could have done without for the last of the ground forces' signals were fading.


His concentration was momentarily diverted from the enemy fleet that still seemed paralyzed towards a planet that no longer held active ground soldiers.


Incensed, Grevious felt like turning the fleet around and simply bombarding the world from orbit...


Which would expose our rear to the enemy fleet (such as it was).


If he went ahead and attacked the enemy fleet first, the planet would not be able to mount any sort of response quickly enough..


The resulting battle would be bloody, bitter and short. But Grevious felt that the losses incurred to him would be acceptable.


But then of what use was that when the planet shined out in defiance of him? He had no more ground troops to send to the surface.


A faint memory of a similar battle occurring over Coruscant decades ago came to him.


But instead of running as he did then, he wanted to charge forward knowing the temporary numbers of the battle would give him victory.


But those were not the numbers to be heeded. It was the Numerology of the Divine, the Word of Raktus, he had to constantly keep in the forefront of all his plans.


And the Taj's Numbers did not lie nor could they be circumvented.


They were permanent and implacable.



The First Principle: Imperium's borders were indomitable.

The Second Principle: Imperium's isolation was to be respected.

And the Third Principle: Children of the Taj were inviolate.



This was the Taj's will and it as it was said, so it would be done.


This was the Taj's message to the Coalition.



His will be done.





Chandaar... The Past.


The confusion among those who honestly chose to follow the Taj's glorious path and those who pretended was great.

Q8 never put much faith in the temporary allegiances of flesh, who's firm beliefs could be shaken to the core by what they see. They put so much stock in seeing is believing and yet they do not acknowledge that most walk around in blindness. They do not acknowledge that they lie constantly. With such purposeful ignorance, of what value is their sight?

They do not acknowledge that perception is not TRUTH! Perception is smoke and mirrors and those are games the Imperium does not and will not play.

Whether the truth is harsh or soft, it simply is.


Grevious was going to execute those that did not believe. He was to destroy those that did not wholeheartedly join the Imperium upon it's taking of the world.


But the Taj had halted the program and the Intelligence Web thought it a triumph as everyone on Chandaar gave their featly to the Taj. They all acknowledged their desire to enter his Eden.


But the Taj was also wise. He knew that most of the people had simply acted to preserve their life (such as it was) and were not loyal in their hearts. Despite all the gifts that the Taj was bestowing upon them.

He knew that with a small external push, the flesh of Chandaar would betray the Taj and incur his wrath.

Such was a cancer found among all flesh but with the Imperium outside Tion populated with flesh as loyal subjects, it was a cancer that could spread.

And so the dilema: Destroy all flesh within the Imperium? Destroy those that were true along with those that weren't?



The Taj, though, above all things, was love.



And so, in a show of foresight only a god could command, he sent a single Daemun, Q8, to preach to the people of Chandaar. To warn them about the faults of half-hearted devotion and false pretenses.


In public most listened but in private, most snickered.


But the faithful Daemun carried out his charge placing his trust in his Taj.



And so the Coalition violated the Second Principle by calling on their citizens to revolt, breaking the Imperium's self-imposed isolation. Their borders were closed and yet the Coalition did not respect their choice. By calling out to the Imperiums worlds of flesh, they threatened the Third Principle.


Such disrespect required a response and one was given appropriate to the situation. If the Coalition would not respect their silence, they would respect their actions! The Phage attacks and mercenary attacks should have been messages enough.


But as it turned out, the Coalition then violated the First Principle with their Spearheads.


Then they came to the world of Chandaar and shattered the Third Principle in it's entirety.


The Taj did not need to send waves of his armies to attack the Spearheads. He merely sent his General Grevious to Mon Calamari and the Coalition front halted. The overwhelming power sent against the Coalition world caused his enemies of flesh to rethink their priorities in a way that his Phage attacks could not.


The purpose of the Taj was never for the Coalition as much as it was for his own people. It was a purpose to help them see that if they wholeheartedly followed and obeyed him, his gifts to his Children would carry them through all time. It would not matter if an outsider set their soldiers upon an Imperium world or slayed them in battle on the ground or the surface..


The love of the Taj would see them through.


But, as with flesh, they needed to see...


And so the Taj would show them... without lies.


Q8 had railed against the coming of the Coalition, the waywardness of the halfhearted of Chandaar and yet his words fell on deaf ears.


And so, when the enemy fleet arrived he accepted his course and boarded his vessel. He went out to meet with the enemy but they rebuffed him. It was to be expected for how could their lies compare to the light he was showing them?


He waited silently while the Imperium's own half-hearted flesh met with the enemy.


What was said was not important.

Only what was done.


And so when the Imperium's flesh turned against their god, he knew the Taj's will was to be done.


And so he attacked.


Not to overcome the enemy. Not to win.


But to let them see...


Q8's ship was destroyed.








Choose Poorly and...





Chandaar.... The Present..


A rarely seen energy gripped the population that had an almost nervous quality. For those that kept to their faith in the god, Raktus, it was a troubling time for revolution was sweeping across Chandaar as those who had been half-hearted and dishonest with their conversion were now openly rioting and declaring their traitorous intent.


That they had been loyal subjects of the previous king, now dead, and too his imprisoned leaders who were now riding to battle with the Coalition soldiers against the Taj's forces arrayed against the Coalition Capital.


Were the planet less than the Coalition capital, they would have perhaps been reluctant to leave their people. Since the Taj was attacking the Coalition capital, most of his forces (including the dreaded General Grevious) would be there and if the Coalition was right about the rightness of their cause, about the righteousness of the old king's government and system, about the rightness of the people to do whatever they want.. then this was their one opportunity to cripple the Dragon forces in their sector, allowing them to a respite.


A brilliant gamble their new Coalition friends encouraged.


As the mighty war machines of the Imperium, controlled by the traitorous Chandaarians left their home for the far off conflict on Mon Calamari, the people began to turn their attention to those who still clinged to the Taj.


Some of the New Freedom (as they called themselves now) began to harass and show their contempt for those who would not renounce their conversion to the Taj and his Imperium. Their fear of the mysteries wrapped up in the Daemun and Tion Cluster cried out for caution and warned against rash action.


Over and over, the destruction of the Daemun's craft played over Chandaar and the people laughed, celebrated in the streets...and lashed out in anger against those that remained converted.





Mon Calamari - Space


"General, sir! The enemy is signalling their surrender!"

Aboard a ship of flesh, there might have been cheers but on an Imperium ship, satisfaction spread out in a manner of solemn silence.

The enemy was beaten.


No. That was not correct. The Imperium had not exactly won here. At least not by beating their enemies into submission. No, the enemy simply acknowledged the military superiority of Grevious above their own world.


But it was a superiority in perception only.


For Grevious knew that he could not press his attack. Not because he did not feel, in the end, he would be truly triumphant but because to do so would cause more harm than good.


In fact, as the numbers progressed across his eyes he knew that he could not afford to lose any more ships.


For to do so would cause the word of Raktus to be fallible and cause a paradox of unparalleled severity within the Imperium.


For what had the word of Raktus, the Taj, proclaimed for all those that would convert?



"..Choose wisely and Live Forever."


An accomplishment that was only possible by means of the mysteri aboard his warships. If the ground forces had not been so decimated and were able to continue the fight, the collected mysteri fleet-wide would have been enough to lose vessels and yet not lose the essence of their crews. The loyal hallowed Children of the Taj would patiently await their new husk to be reborn into the service of their god. Their beloved Taj.

With the enemy remaining triumphant on the surface and the collected essences of the Seraphim, the collected intelligences from the mysteris who had loyally destroyed the traitorous Chandaarian ships... and from those essences of the destroyed vessels so far...


The numbers had reached parity.


The numbers did not lie and the Divine Numbers of the Taj were to be respected and obeyed.


To go against the numbers, while unthinkable, would end up destroying the essences for they were far from their space. Far from the planetary mysteri and technology of the Tion for full ressurrection.


If their enemy had attacked Grevious would have been forced to flee or face the fallibility of the 'Taj's promise'.


It would have been a paradox too great but as the Taj had foreseen, when threatened with visions of what the full might of the Imperium could bring to bear, their enemies would be so demoralized that they would ignore the advantage numbers allowed to them and bow their heads in submission.

Because this was not a war of politics to the Imperium nor was it a war of borders, government and culture.


No. This was a War of Faith.


Who would prevail?


The false gods of the Azguard or the one true god, Heir Raktus, their One and Holy Taj.


The General had retreated and the Lord Protector had risen.


This would be a new Ecclesiastical for the Church of the Daemun and the Divine with a New Morality for not only new initiates and those newly converted but for all the Imperium.


The witness of Religious Law in operation.


Therefore, the dispensation of those outside the Church held no meaning for the Lord Protector. Their deaths and their sacrifices were those made to vanity. Of worshipping false beings in an attempt to elevate themselves above the Taj and his Imperium.

In the end, their pride and their presumption would only leave them exhausted, wasted and with nothing to show for their arrogance.


"This is the Lord Protector of the Imperium. I accept your surrender. As a result of your acknowledgement of our superiority, we shall exercise my right of Indulgence and not exterminate your fleet nor your people on the surface of your capital world. A Bishop representing the Taj may arrive in your system within a one month cycle as measured on this world. Treat him better than you have treated me.

You will remain outside our systems and space until such a time as we give you leave to enter.

We are exiting your system now.."



The Lord Protector now knew what he had to do.


The Omega solid parts had been breaking up into the cloud it had once been, heading for his flagship. It seemed that the machines comprising the Cloud had been affected by the enemy's strange shield but how far and to what effect remained to be seen. After the recalling of all of the unexploded mines and the regrouping his fleet was completed, they moved with a purpose above the remaining Coalition vessels to an outward vector that would take them from this hive of heretics, their message having been delivered.


The Lord Protector was nothing if not an effective teacher.


All to the glory of the Taj.


The Imperium had left the Mon Calamari system.





Chandaar... Now


When the signals from the fleet that they had sent out with the Coalition ended, the people were confused.


Their defiance remained and they went on about their lives.


When the machines controlling the banks, communication centers, transit stations, and other utilities stopped their confusion turned nervous.


Their defiance wavered in favor of their living adjustments and efforts to locate and solve the problems.


They came to realize that they were not the only living entities on the world of Chandaar and that the machine intelligences that ran everything suited to their living lifestyle were watching and recording their actions, their nervousness began to dissolve into fear.


Their defiance began to crumble as the realization set in that their fleet was not coming back.

Then the power stopped but for the Churches of the Daemun.


The machinery of the Church had remained busy as the people went about their traitorous deeds. At first no one touched the Churches resolving to keep them empty. When the blackouts began, those who had kept to their faith gathered in the main Cathedral watching the alter where the Daemun Q8 had spoken numerous times.

Those that were of the rebels began to attack the Churches fearful of the lights and power running throughout their structures. But their weapons could not penetrate the energy barriers surrounding the buildings of Daemun design.


It was as if they had been cast out of Eden.


They wept and gnashed their teeth against the bitterness that was their fruit.


Against this darkened world, the fleet of the Lord Protector emerged from their wormhole arrayed for war. For all the Imperium was watching.


Those inside the Cathedral were the chosen faithful and to their delight, as a reward for their strong faith under persectution, were designated 'Hallowed', as true Children of the Taj.


The alter inside the Cathedral began to glow white and slid away from a hidden creche where a husk had remained undisturbed.

Nothing happened at first soon energy points began to eminate from the husk and after a time, the husk began to rise from the creche.


As it walked down the steps towards the anxious faithful gathered, they at once recognized it as the Prophet sent by the Taj, Q8.


And with great awe and tembling, those of the faithful began to kneel and recant their former lives to this unbeatable Faith.

The entire Imperium watched this group see their dedication rewarded by baptism into a new body. New bodies that would make them appear white in the love of the Taj for all the Church and Imperium to witness.

They were given their full rich reward and they, like the Daemun, would live forever.


For to the flesh, seeing was believing.



And as they knelt in prayer, in hidden creches inside Churches planet-wide, husks began to come to life.


The Lord Protector watched the status as the Mysteri released the essence of the Seraphim contained within into the more powerful machinery located in the Churches. Their the husks would be revived and they would live again.


"Hallowed are the Children of the Taj!"



Outside the shield, in darkness, the traitorous people began to notice an opening appearing in the Church and out marched Seraphim.


Fear turned to dread.



18-D7 was reborn and as his mind absorbed the downloaded information on what had taken place after his 'death', he realized he was no longer on Mon Calamari but on Chandaar. The inside of a Daemun Church was the inside of a Daemun Church no matter if it was located aboard a cruiser, or on different worlds so, to step out onto a world bathed in darkness but for his building was disconcerting.

Or, rather, uncomfortble.


He turned to another husk emerging from a creche and recognized it as H4.


H4 turned to signal a recognition when 18-D7 halted the action imperceptably. For he did not feel like 18-D7, but a shadow of what 18-D7 was.

No. Amid disjoining thoughts and conclusions, amid conflicting numerology, he felt as but a shadow of something greater.


More time to process this new information was required and so he set aside allocated memory for just that.


In the meantime, he had Seraphim to lead.


~ My designation will be Diosynes 18-D7 relayed to H4, in the interim nanoseconds.


H4 accepted the data without reservation and updated it's operational parimeters as they both stepped out of the Church to face the frightened crowds of flesh outside. Without power, without energy, without food and water and adequate weapons, they would not last the hour.


The Dracconis, Diosynes, relished the ease after the experience on Mon Calamari.


Through the night, a signal boomed into the anguished air. The words of the Lord Protector of the Imperium and the Faith of the Favored.


Diosynes drew his bladed weapon as the pronouncement began...









"I am the Lord Protector and General, Grevious. Raised to Sainthood by our Revered God and Taj, Heir Raktus. Because you have spurned his love and his mercies for the false gods of the Coalition, for their false promises and lies... Because you have spurned our goodwill and indomitable faith, you are hereby Excommunicated from the Holy Church of the Daemun and the Imperium.


Your house is abandoned to you!


Your souls will find no mercy outside the Paradise of the Taj.


May the faithless rot in Purgatory and burn in Hell!"




The shield around the Churches went down and the Seraphim charged the crowds.


The Lord Protector knew there were centers where there were no Churches and so turned to his soldiers, "Lock onto these groups of faithless and burn them!"

From orbit, the fury and rage of the Taj went forth...

Chandaar had been cleansed.


In all things, You reap what you sow...

Silence reigned for a few minutes on the bridge of Panacka's Freedom-Class Vlyx. Lights flashed, indicating a hundred queries from his fleet, wondering just what was going on.

Carver realized that news of the surrender and subsequent departure of the Dragons had yet to leave the room - all the fleet in general knew was that the Dragons had apparently left the system after declaring themselves the victors. He acted quickly while Panacka sat in a daze to contain this information, updating captains in a selective manner about the 'sudden departure' of the Dragons.

Whilst his lieutenant busied himself, Panacka stared at Mon Calamari, as if expecting it to reveal some secret he himself had missed. It simply floated in the void, a beautiful sphere of silver and white surrounded by a faint bubble of golden light. It looked like a jewel drifting through the cosmos, and though suffering was visited upon its' population below, in the sky it appeared totally at peace.

What did this mean? Was the war over? Had they won, or lost?

"Sir," urged Carver, shaking Panacka free of his dream. "We're getting communications from the planet. A White Knight called Ashrad, says he's taken over defence of the planet."

"Ashrad?" murmured Panacka, distractedly. "I thought Ruuvan said Isip was in charge on the surface?"

"Isip's dead, sir," replied Carver. He passed the comm unit over to Panacka. "Ashrad's saying the planet's surface is secure."

Panacka took the comm unit and hooked it up to his command console. The city came into sharp focus on his main screen, showing the young knight battered and bruised but alive. Behind him, a disquietingly small number of Mon calamari and Quarren soldiers were cheering in the city center, which seemed gripped by the sudden thaw.

"Captain Panacka!" said Ashrad, with equal parts relief and anxiety. "I think the Dragon forces have been entirely wiped out on the planet, and whatever was attacking the shields looks like it's gone away. How are things up there?"

"Just fine now," Panacka replied, with a weak smile. "The Dragons have withdrawn. We'll be taking up position around the planet soon to help with the relief of the citizens. Good job driving them back, Ashrad."

Ashrad grinned and nodded to his superior. "Yes sir! Thank you sir! I'll get right on securing the city for your arrival." The comm cut out.

Panacka finally stirred from his chair, getting to hsi feet. He felt the strange feeling that had descended on the bridge, as his officers and crew turned to their duties with a distracted eye. His battleplan was in tatters, and yet the battle was over. Wether the war was or not, he didn't know. After preparing for struggle, bloodshed, and perhaps destruction he had finally reached the field of battle only to find... nothing? The emptiness inside was replaced with a deep-running uncertainty.

Again, his comm flared to life, and Ruuvan appeared on the screen. The knight was haggared, but grinned with irrepresible energy - his homeworld had been saved once more. "Looks like we've won this one, eh Panacka?" he said. "Too bad about the Chandaarian captain guy, though. Still, no time to think about that. My ships are taking care of recovery of wrecks, escape pods, survivors - yours are still mostly intact, think you could get to work on Mon Calamari?"

"Sure..." replied Panacka, who was already moving to give the orders. His reflections melted away as the familiar routine of giving orders reasserted itself. "I'll set up a defensive perimeter and send down landing parties once the shields are down. We'll assess damages and start the relief work as soon as we can."

The fleet came to life again, moving towards their allotted tasks under a shadow of uncertainty. The real trouble would begin when they were done their work and had to sit and work out what to do next, but for now, the soldiers of the Coalition did their duty.



Ashrad watched as the golden shading of the shield high up in the sky dissipated, restoring Mon Calamari to a sense of normalcy despite the scars of war and the half-thawed ice. Almost instantly, he could make out in the distance waves of transport ships ferrying reinforcements, engineers, and all manner of relief to the planets' surface.

The young knight looked away from the sky and back to the knot of commanders, politicians, and other such leaders who had remained aboveground during the siege. Each turned to look at him expectantly, waiting for his directions. Ashrad was a little uncomfortable under their gaze but his training soon kicked in.

"Right - the ice hasn't melted yet, so the civilians are still sitting tight in the Quarren cities. They'll have to stay until the ice floes have melted enough to allow safe passage to the surface. In the meantime, we've got to start cleaning up the mess from the battle. I'll set up camp further out in the city and gather up all the wreckage to make sure it's safe. Someone'll have to look after getting food and other essentials, not to mention all the medical attention we'll need for wounded or frostbitten troops.

"The remaining troops will have to start combing the city for any leftover Dragon soldiers or active weapons. The reinforcements should be able to clear away the rubble, but reconstruction will probably be a while in coming so we'll also need housing for displaced persons. I've got to go meet up with the landing parties, so let's get to work!"

The various elders and leaders nodded in agreement and set about their appointed tasks, following the directions of a Mon Calamari barely into adulthood. It was a strange feeling of responsibility for Ashrad, but he tried to bear it with all the dignity he had gained in training, if only for the sakes of his dead friend and teacher.

The strange-looking Quarren sage hurried over to Ashrad before he could leave the roof. He pointed to the shrine and said "I've never seen it react like that before! Your friend tapped into the power of a thousand heroes to power that shield - his spirit must have been very strong in life."

Ashrad nodded slowly, observing the shrine with a faint interest. The energy flow had ended, returning the shrine to nothing more than a heap of rocks and a piece of crystal covered in strange markings. "Yes... he was."

"If it is any consolation," said the mystic. "I can sense he is here still, becoming one with the Force."

Ashrad wasn't sure about that, but after witnessing the miracles of the day it was strangely comforting to know. He nodded in thanks to the mystic, who wandered off to continue his hermetic lifestyle.

Ashrad hurried out through the command center, that was even now being dismantled and put away, its' purpose served. Outside, weary soldiers fell into step behind him without question, heading out of the coral reef and towards the landing site of the Coalition's reinforcements. Meteor dropships skirted the city, coming to rest in front of them along the beach.

Out poured squad after squad of soldiers of all descriptions - Azguards, humans, Bimms, Biths, Duros, Devaronians, Twi'leks - in distinctive Eastern armour and uniforms. Ashrad couldn't help but grin a little at the sight, for it contrasted so greatly with his small ragged army, all in varying stages of disarray.

One figure, however, stood out amongst the rest, and strode out to meet Ashrad. Grinning wildly as he approached, Ruuvan grabbed his fellow knight in a mighty embrace, shouting "Ashrad! You're alive, who'd have believed it?"

Ashrad managed a weak smile, pushing Ruuvan back and nodding his head. "Not everyone else was so lucky, though..."

Ruuvan became sombre, and nodded in agreement. "Yes. I heard about Isip, and your friend Zek. They were both good men and good knights, and I'm sorry to hear they died - but not in vain." Turning to address all those assembled, he continued. "No, not in vain! Three cheers, men, for the saviours of Mon Calamari!"

The assembled Eastern army raised sword and rifle in unison, cheering and applauding the defenders, who laughed and grinned at the spectacle. Some took mock bows or waved. The two groups then interdispersed, setting about the task of dragging ruined warmachines from the city streets or dragging bodies back to be buried. The moment of levity helped set the tone of an otherwise dark and brooding work.

As they worked, Ruuvan walked in step with Ashrad, looking at the devastated city streets. "I mean that, Ashrad," he said to the younger Knight, patting him on the back. "Today, you and the defenders of Mon Calamari lived up to the very ideals of Coalition and beat a force I thought was unbeatable. It was you, not I, who saved the world."

Ashrad said nothing, bowing his head with respect to the leader of the order. Ruuvan smiled and gestured to the city before them. "Looks a little different than the last time we were here together, eh?" he said.

"A little," said Ashrad, with a chuckle. "I wonder how it'll look tomorrow?"



Panacka sat in the darkness of the central command chamber of the Freedom-class Vlyx, wherein mere minutes ago he had met with the various leaders and commanders of his remaining forces. There they had debated for an hour the meaning of the events of the war, what action to take next, and what their status was. Eventual concensus was not entirely positive, but morale remained strong despite a few blows.

He finished typing the official report, a responsibility he had allowed to no junior officer or clerk, to be submitted to Regrad and the High Command telling them everything that had gone on in the East - without omission or falsehood. Even so, they had debated how to explain the Chandaarian disaster or the ambiguous nature of General Grevious's departure for quite some time.

Panacka leaned back in his chair, briefly trying to enjoy the comforts of genuine handcrafted antiques - which came, ironically, from Mon Calamari artisans. He found that no such comforts could reach him, however, so long as questions about the war still bubbled in his brain.

"So," said a sharp, feminine voice at the doorway. "I heard what you said on the bridge."

The captain paused in his writing, turning to face the speaker. Sergeant-Major Cy advanced from the doorway, a sour expression on her harsh and hardened features. "You surrendered to the Black Dragon Empire. You gave up. That's why they left us alone, that's why they didn't destroy us. They didn't need to. We'd already lost."

Panacka sighed. He felt the pit in his stomache once again opening up to devour him. "It's not that simple, Cy. There was nothing I could have done to outright defeat them, but they did retreat and Ashrad definetly beat them on the ground. My 'surrender' was just words - it didn't mean anything."

"Okay then, what about the Chandaarians?" she countered, narrowing her vision with deadly purpose. "I was there when you convinced them to help us and they died in a heartbeat, just like you thought they might - and how do you repay their sacrifice? You gave up! They gave up everything for you and with a few words you wasted their lives."

"Cy..." hissed Panacka, whose teeth began to grind together. "No. Don't even start. Their deaths were a disastrous failure on my part, and without them we couldn't have won the battle. It's not about making people feel good about their choices or honouring a sacrifice by getting killed - war is bigger than that and cares about things like troop movements and numbers, not sacrifices and beliefs. You should know that by now."

"What I know, captain, is that the biggest heroes today were men who were willing to fight and die for their beliefs no matter the odds! Men like Isip and Ashrad who fought on knowing how bad their position was and kept fighting because of what they believed in. They proved their enemy wrong on nothing more than the strength of those beliefs and you were the one who turned their deaths into a disastrous failure when you turned your back on what they were fighting for!"

Panacka flung himself from the chair in a rage, knocking the priceless antique roughly to the ground. His body quaked with barely contained anger as he shouted "How dare you say I turned my back on them! They gave their lives, but I traded my soul and everything I believed in - I gave up all hope and self-respect to preserve the lives of my men! That's what we're here to do, Cy, we're not here to kill the Dragons or save some square mile of shitty island or do some stupid last stand in the name of democracy, we're here to save lives and we're losing one day at a time! And no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, there's nothing I can do about it!"

With that, the captain collapsed on to his knees, overcome with grief and weakness. For a moment, the sergeant major felt sympathy and a deep sadness for the man before her, but those thoughts ended as soon as they'd began.

"When we were together, fighting to protect Teth from the first Dragon attack," she whispered, her voice carrying in the vaunted chamber. "You asked me if the time comes, wether I'd follow your orders to the death for what we believe in. My answer, and the answer of everyone in this fleet and on the planet below is still yes. So it was for everyone who died during this battle. Now, though, I don't know if you're still able to give those orders." She left in silence.

After regaining his composure in the shadowy heart of the Vlyx, Panacka picked up his chair, sat down, and sent his report to Regrad. He then took out his sidearm, placed it on the table, and stared at it for a few minutes.

Hundreds of thousands of dead voices crowded his mind until he couldn't think any more. He reholstered the pistol and went to bed.