“A man's worth is no greater than the worth of his ambitions” ~Marcus Aurelius
<i><b>Shortly after the battle of Coruscant...</b></i>
It is a dark hour for the Empire.
As the hours after the battle of Courscant grow greater the specter of defeat hangs low over the heads of the Empire's leaders. Soundly beaten and driven from the world once known as Imperial Center, the foundations of the once seemingly-invincible Empire has begun to crack as the weight of the Cree'ar, the Reavers, and fragmenting political ties to surrounding nations make themselves felt. Azrael Zell has been deposited from the position of Regent by an insurgency within the Empire but a new, if illegitimate, Emperor has been found to rally around in the newly reappeared Park Kraken. Throughout this the uppermost regions of the Empire, Yaga Minor and Bastion, remain far from the Empire's minds and have been left to forge on their own for the time being, with only Muunilist and it's financial markets in continued contact with Imperial Center.
The once proud Imperial fleet has now been bruised. Reserve fleets across the Empire mobilize as the Empire prepares itself for war, while the remaining fleets of the core hesitantly wait for orders after the fall of Coruscant. Kach Thorton's mighty Borderland armada, a large segment of the remaining Imperial Fleet, prepares itself either to begin an offensive to push the Reavers from the isolated but still unravaged industrial worlds within the Borderlands, or for war with the League of Nations if they attempt to move against the Empire.
Within in the once-unified Empire a dissident faction now grows, gaining influence and gathering resources and connections within the Imperial Hierarchy and boldened by it's success against Zell. Kach Thorton, granted the title of Supreme Moff and Grand Admiral by the new Emperor soon after the battle, continues his plotting against the Empire's “old guard” - the older members of the Empire he believes hold back it's progress and threaten it's very existence. At the same time, Telan Desaria makes his way back to the core from Onyx, changed by the years of bloody occupation and guerrilla warfare he's seen. Many simply rally behind the loudest voice, desperate for a leader to follow. Wes Vos begins a campaign against the Cree'ar, vowing to wipe the galaxy of the scourge and avenge the Empire's defeats at their hands.
Peace is far from the minds of Imperial citizens. As far from their minds as the idea of defeat...
Following the invasion of Coruscant, the HoloNet, without the central relay hub it relied on, had mostly collapsed. The Imperials had destroyed communication and HoloNet relays as they evacuated, to prevent the Cree'Ar from using them.
It took the Cree'Ar six hours to construct an interface through which they could broadcast a message. It began to all those who still had active terminals after a few weeks of static as simple scrolling numbers, but it was soon replaced by a face.
Artanis Daz’Da’Mar.
He opened his mouth, and spoke.
“For the past century, your galaxy has been at war.
It has been a war of many different states. From periods featuring open, outright hostilities, to periods of subtle manipulation and politicking, to periods featuring death and violence on a horrifically encompassing scale, this war has never ended.
My people as well are a people who have experienced the triumphs and defeats of war.
And though we do what we must in the face of oppressive forces, we remain always fearful and horrified of the cost… the barbarism, the savage price that is paid in war.
Paid in blood.
Innocent blood.
Young blood.
The death of a future generation on battlements commanded by the aged and the ruling elite. Safe in their ivory towers they command the life, and the death, of millions below.
This is the reality of war.
It is not a glamorous reality. And in war, it should be noted, that there are no winners. The only correct resolution of a war is to find in what you have left that that which kept you apart is finally gone, and now, in the ruins, can you rebuild what once was lost… together.
This is the price, and the purchase product, of all great wars.
When the warring factions agree to find a permanent peace, then the war is over. Everything else is just a different type of battle. Some are fought with knives and sharp words. Others with laser beams and exploding bombs. But no matter whether it be with words or weapons, war continues until it can continue no longer. Those who are comfortable in a state of relative peace do not understand the cyclical, continual nature of war. No matter how long it has been since the last engagement, no treaty or truce will hold as long as the fundamental reasons for war, whatever they may be, exist.
Your galaxy is at war for reasons you do not know.
Moreover, they are reasons that I do not know.
What is the fundamental difference between a Jedi and a Sith?
What is it that separates them so?
What is it that causes them to plunge the galaxy into turmoil, war, and despair?
What drives them?
What motivates them to choose those actions?
Why does a person being a Jedi or a Sith seem so revolting that the only cure to one’s being aware of the continued existence of the other must be intergalactic war?
Why does this concern you?
Why do you pay the price for what differences they have?
Because that is what is happening to you. For hundreds of years have the Jedi, or the Sith, exchanged the base of power on the world of Coruscant. With the various Sith pulling the strings of the New Order today, back to the Jedi Organa Solo and her command of the New Republic, to Eternal Rogue Order under Recon Klain, back further to the Galactic Empire under Palpatine, and further still, to the Jedi Order sitting atop the cityworld with a spire rising above all spires. And as the faces change, the orders rename, the fundamental conflict remains the same, and the ones who pay for this conflict are the innocent people.
Not the Jedi.
Nor the Sith.
But the people caught in between.
Fleeing their homes. Burying their dead. And fighting a war that they don’t even understand. Being told that one side, or the other, is inherently evil, and must be destroyed, but never being told why. Only told that you must fight. And that if you do not, you will be killed.
This conflict has been the basis of the existence of this galaxy for centuries. Today, it comes to an end.
I stand atop what was once known as Imperial Center. The palace of the Emperor, in fact, in which the housing of both Palpatine’s Galactic Empire, and Daemon Hyfe’s New Order, lorded over the galaxy. Debris is strewn everywhere now; the ruins of the greatest city that the combined civilizations of this galaxy have been able to craft. A statue of Palpatine himself, carved into the side of this building, taller than most buildings in fact, as falling; corrosive acid eating away at the metal and stone, reducing both to simple ash. His nose fell twenty minutes ago; I suspect his jaw is next.
What your Sith, and your Jedi, created in the past centuries we have undone in the span of a single Coruscan month.
With my foot I step on the remnants of The New Order.
In ash it loses much of the luster that it displayed in war.
Do not mistake this broadcast as a boast, however.
I take no joy in the lives lost here today. The soldiers of The New Order fought bravely, and are to be commended. They have done their gods worthy and earned their place amongst the honored dead. I salute them, and those who fought with them and survived. They were vigilant opponents.
I take joy in the destruction of the power of the Sith.
The hold of the Sith, and the Jedi, on this galaxy has ended today.
For the first time in centuries, I stand on this world, capital of the galaxy, and I stand not as a Sith, or a Jedi, but as a man.
A great man, perhaps. Only time will tell. But I am only a man. I exert no mystical control over those around, or use subversive hypnosis to bend them to my will.
I am the leader of The Dominion. My name is Artanis Daz’da’mar.
This broadcast is a declaration of war. Not of war between myself and any government, or between my military and theirs. This is a war against those who would cause a continuing, devastating war to continue.
I hereby declare war on Force Users everywhere.
Be they Jedi or Sith. From this day forward, I decree that the difference is negligible as both will be considered enemies of the free people of the galaxy.
The time of the dominance of Force Users over the civilians of the worlds of this galaxy is henceforth declared dead.
We will use all resources of The Dominion, from this galaxy and from others, to pursue, and destroy, the Force Users who continue to rally against the cause of peace and mutual understanding in this galaxy.
From atop the Imperial Palace I extend the following offer to all governments of the free people of the galaxy.
The world of Coruscant will continue to be the hub that you are all used to. Within one week, the infrastructure of this world will be rebuilt and it will be suitable for human population once again. As such, I declare this world to be open to visitation by any and all representatives of the free people of the galaxy.
The only exception is Force Users.
Force Users are welcome on Coruscant as long as their intention is to surrender to The Dominion. If so, we will accept their surrender and will forgo execution.
If a government representative wishes to surrender prisoner Force Users then we will accept that as well. We will also forgo their execution provided they remain peaceful and cooperative.
Any government who wishes to surrender prisoner Force Users shall receive an immediate non-aggression pact from The Writers Of Scripture And Law. This will be a binding agreement that will ensure the continued cooperation between our people and yours.
This offer extends to The New Order as well; this attack upon your capital world was necessary to demonstrate the capability of our Dominion. Beyond that, and the Force Users within your hierarchy, we have no conflict with your Empire.
We are receptive to negotiations that will facilitate the repopulation of Coruscant under The New Order. Those talks may begin when you so desire.
I look forward to the coming peace between the governments of this galaxy.
But that will not happen if they continue to follow the whims and wills of the Jedi and the Sith. So I say this now, to all Force Users, and to all governments who would shelter them; in choosing to resist the movement of peace, you propagate hatred, violence, and war. In so choosing you make yourself an enemy of not just The Dominion, but the free people of this galaxy and beyond. Your war is over. You have lost. If you surrender, and negotiate peace, then there is a place for you within the society that will evolve.
If you do not, you will be executed.
I take no joy in murder. I do what must be done.
I will not hesitate in this mission. I will complete the task that Borleas Quayver has given me.
I will see peace in this galaxy.
And so will you all.
For millennia The Dominion has opposed the will of tyrants. We defeated the Yuuzhan Vong. So shall we defeat the Jedi and the Sith.
I call on citizens everywhere to assist us in marching towards peace.
Entaro,
Artanis Daz’Da’Mar.”
With that, the signal faded. Static was once again all that was available on the HoloNet.</i>
* * *
Deep within the central government centers of Vladet a young technician in the INS monitored holonet signals coming out from the core worlds. There was mainly silence except for some high-priority battle reports from Coruscant as the fleets reported in from the clashes.
A red flag popped up on his monitor. It was labeled "Unauthorized Communication Detected." He clicked it and it opened, telling him that there was an unauthorized access to the holonet taking place in the galactic core, and it was attempting a Universal Public Emergency Broadcast - whoever was sending it wanted <i>everyone</i> to know whatever he had to say. Unfortunately for the broadcaster, any message like that had to pass by the censors at the INS first. He went ahead and clicked "Censor" which would record the live message so it could be censored of sensitive and dangerous information by the INS.
After it began, however, he realized that what he had here was most certainly out of the ordinary. He raised his hand, opening and closing his palm rapidly to signal high priority. A Major came over and began watching with him, then paged his superior - a COMPNOR Colonel. After it was finished, he stated the obvious conclusion: "Soft-block any further broadcasts from this source and record further messages for analysis. Send this one to COMPNOR, the ISB and governor Thorton's Intelligence Offices."
"Thorton, sir?" he questioned.
"Thorton. With the disintegration of the core fleets and the Mid-Rim fleets deployed to fight the Reavers Thorton is the Cree'Ar's primary opponents at the moment.
Artanis' proud message, attempting to unite the citizens of the galaxy against their masters, ended up blocked by a Junior-level lieutenant in a minor holonet-monitoring station in the Mid-Rim.
* * *
<i><b>Shortly after the battle of Courscant... </i></b>
Seamus Arliss looked out at the panorama representing Muunillist’s skyline and smiled to himself. The tragedy from his daughter’s death had fallen behind him and both Arliss Industries and Arliss Towers were whole again.
While the rest of the galaxy burned in hell, the various departments comprising the two halves had worked furiously on reintegration and it was as if a new power core had been installed in a warship giving it new life.
He truly had not understood how organized his daughter had been and, as the reintegration neare completion, he found a wealth of options open to him.
His eyes scanned the galactic financial sector news and saw that there were a variety of markets in panic over the alien war against the Empire, the upsetting of the balance between the League of Nations and the Empire, the havoc caused by the Reaver threat, conflict within the Onyxian Occupation Zone…. His eyes roved the symbols and numbers finding patterns. It was amazing how life, death, wealth, poverty, rises and falls were told with as few characters as possible. Truly, no one could transmit information as efficiently as the financial market.
But there were other tales told.
The Outer Rim was solidifying as companies, typically weak in certain markets,were making a comeback. It would bear watching.
Vellixum Enterprises seemed to be outpacing it’s projected growth of a few years ago and that meant only one thing: powerful backers.
But who?
This was a time of war, strife and struggle.
And if experience told Seamus Arliss anything, it was that it was times like these that individual stars rose or fell.
Kach furrowed his brow at his former superior in thought, momentarily amused by the question of if he could see it. Holonet had become shaky lately, with the new relays on the Mid-Rim far less powerful than the old ones around Coruscant that had been destroyed. The ridiculous amount of encryption they were using due to the conversations sensitive nature didn’t help either.
“Talk about a move that takes <i>balls</i>,” Kach said. “Coruscant drops off the map for a few weeks and what happens? Park Kraken emerges from the dead and declares himself Emperor!”
“Sounds like an old-fashioned Holodrama if you ask me,” Gilford chimed in. The Sector Admiral was not amused at Thorton’s analysis of the situation and it showed in his voice. “The whole thing is ridiculous.”
“Maybe, but we’re living it. I’m going to Vladet now to meet with Emperor Kraken. Stick to your part of the plan. You know what to do.”
* * *
<i><b>Somewhere between Coruscant and Vladet…</b></i>
A cloud of Ion mines, courtesy of a nearby Imperial Armaments depot, slowly drifted across the twinkling stars outside of the <i>Smuggler’s Luck</i>. A squadron of Action IV transports drifted in the opposite direction, back to the lurking battleship and the cover of a nearby asteroid. Next to the luck sat a single interdictor cruiser, borrowed from an Alliance owned shipyard where it had been undergoing a refit. With luck, it would be back from its “shakedown” cruise in just a few days no worse for wear. It’s gravity wells now slowly throbbed in a powered down mode, ready to be brought up to full power in just a few moments as soon as their target entered the killing field.
This operation, with the mines, was so ridiculously, impossibly crazy under normal circumstances it had almost no chances of working. But the payoff, if the supposed cargo was true, was so enormous the Alliance could not afford to pass it up and Kach had an easy time convincing Jesh Tolli that it could be done.The convoy, from the Imperial capital, was the most important single squadron of ships to have left during the evacuation – the vessels carrying the backup of the Imperial Palace’s databank. Always fully fueled and ready to go, with a constantly updating backup stored on board, several of these convoys were always on Coruscant. Now, with the evacuation, there unexpected mission had finally become necessary and they each made their way to Vladet. This one, however, wouldn’t quite make it…
…The one just leaving hyperspace now. Two dozen medium-sized transports and a skeleton escort (for data this important) of four Carrack Cruisers, two Victory-class Star Destroyers and two Imperial V-class Star Destroyers, all badly mauled from the battle above Imperial Center. The mines, surrounding the convoy, activated their thrusters and dove toward the unshielded flotilla with unbridled fury, the first ones detonating against transports just moments after the convoy entered the surrounding space and rendering the first transports helpless. The warships, better armored than the transports, were shieldless and caught off-guard but no pushovers and began to bring weapons online even as systems and generators failed due to the ionic attack.
The small battlegroup, the best the Empire could scrounge up for this convoy after the mauling at Coruscant, wasn’t enough to defeat the Smuggler flotilla – six Victories and two Imperials remained cloaked and surrounded the convoy. But, if the enemy commander played his cards right it was enough to still stop the Smugglers from achieving their objectives. Even if the Empire couldn’t win, he could still – rather easily – destroy the convoy with one of the Star Destroyers while the other ships held them off.
But would he?
Actually, <i>she</i>.
The central holopad on the bridge lit up as the enemy flagship requested a communications line and they were patched through. In the centered appeared a slender female figure for shorter than the average for a human, but something about her was menacing.
Her message, politely summarized as wanting to know what he was doing here and informing him he was about to die, was tersely worded and harshly delivered. This was not a woman he would normally want to tangle with. His response – designed to be provocative as possible – and politely summarized was that he was a representative of the Rebel Alliance here to board the convoy and seize any weapons and material carried in the name of the Rebellion, and that Imperials were rather dumb – in fact comparable to Mynocks. To emphasize they were here for a fight the Smuggler’s Luck unleashed a volley of turbolaser fire across the void to the Imperial Escorts which dissipated harmlessly before reaching them due to the long range and a squadron of X-wings began emerging from the ship’s hangar.
<i>Take the bait, Take the bait, Take the bait!</i>
She did, if not quite.
Battered by the ionic mines, the Imperials knew that one half-disabled Imperial Star Destroyer was probably not going to fare very well against a Victory. It might win, certainly, but it might be permanently crippled in the process. The Captain – whatever her name was – decided to move both of her Star Destroyers forward toward his ship, with the two Victories fanning out on the Convoys flank to provide security and the two Carracks holding point in front of it. That was about as good a compromise as he was going to get. He waited until the Imperials were about halfway to his ship, the Star Destroyers being continually pounded by Ion mines all the way (though by now they’d deployed TIE fighters and were successfully intercepting them about half the time, with the Star Destroyers anti-missile systems getting most of the rest) before ordering the Anti-Interdiction field on the Interdictor to activate – the signal for the rest of the ships. As they watched the interdiction field appear on their sensors they decloaked, guns charged and shields up, and began moving. The two Imperial Star Destroyers moved up between the Empire’s two Star Destroyers while the remaining Victories engaged the four ships surrounding the fleet, pelting the Victories with waves of missiles targeted at their anti-missile defenses at the same time more mines came pouring in, resulting in both some missiles and mines making it through. Turning to engage the attackers, the Victories drew their guns away from the convoy, letting Jesh breathe a sigh of relief.
“Captain,” he said after pondering the situation for a few moments. “Broadcast a request for surrender. Emphasize that crews will not be harmed if they surrender now and that they <i>will</i> die here today if they do not and their sacrifice will have been in vain. Tell them the Empire needs crews like them now more than ever.”
He began to walk away but caught himself. “Oh,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “Set up a rendezvous with Thorton. Tell him we have what he needs.”
* * *
<i><b>18 Months Ago
<color=yellow>Project Homoculus </color>
From “Kach Thorton: The Past Eighteen Months”
Mechis III</i></b>
<color=yellow>Trachta sat quietly in his garden office at the top of the Tower, Mechis III's administrative building that Trachta had taken years ago as his private citadel away from the busy activity of the Empire's Core. The planet itself, a major manufacturing center for the droids utilized by the Empire was also a major equipment supplying world for the ISB. Even with only a month worth of work Trachta was using his private little fiefdom, the Mechis Cluster, to begin a quiet and gradual build up of COMPNOR operatives. No one really cared to pay much attention to the Empire's internal security mechanism, too focused on issues from outside the Empire to really care what the cybernetic Director of COMPNOR was doing. His plans to aid Thorton would take a bit more time and planning, spreading out the necessary agents even as he had already begun to quietly slip agents into the Imperial Holonet network. He was digging his claws slowly and gradually into the Imperial infrastructure, focusing on the major logistical areas of the Empire.
"Sir, the prototype is ready for you to view," chimed the voice from his desk com of one of his droid specialists.
Trachta nodded and walked across the well kept garden he spent his time within while on Mechis III most of the time to the turbolift. He slotted one of his specially encrypted code cylinders into a socket and the turbolift quickly went down until it passed the floors of the vast administrative tower into the crust of Mechis III. Deep below and built only after Trachta had taken the planet over was a secret research facility for development of new droids for use by the Empire. One such model was the droid prototype he was now going below the surface to be seen. The journey took about fifteen minutes considering how deeply hidden the facility was under the surface before the doors slid open.
"Welcome to lab, Director," said a smiling Arkanian scientist.
"Doctor Ertho, I assume the prototype is ready?" Trachta asked in very business-like tones, never really carrying for the often strangely cheerful Arkanian scientist.
"But of course, please follow me," Dr. Ertho said as he began leading Trachta further into the scientific bunker past an array of droid prototypes including a rather familiar looking ball like the one Trachta kept in his office on Coruscant.
Ertho engaged Trachta in his usual inane conversations which the cyborg responded to with terse and basic answers, not really willing to ever tell the scientist much of anything. He had no issue with what Ertho was as much as his annoying personality which seemed to be in full swing today. It wasn't until they entered Ertho's office and Trachta found himself looking at a second Ertho that he stopped in place, looking between the two of them.
"Magnificent, isn't?" The other Ertho asked eagerly as he walked over to stand by his copy.
"Then again which of us is the copy?" The one that had greeted Trachta now asked.
Trachta looked between them, taken aback slightly as he tried to scan them with his internal cybernetics and he still couldn't discern which one was artificial. He wouldn't like this situation one bit if he wasn't the one funding the project for a new model of a Human Replica Droid.
"So which of you is the droid?" Trachta asked with curiosity as he walked around the pair who were now smiling smugly.
"The correct term is Advanced Human Replica Droid, Director." The second one answered.
"And as to the copy, I'll turn it off," The first said and pulled out a control and clicking a button.
Trachta was shocked as that one then suddenly froze, its eyes staring blankly ahead as the second Ertho grinned widely now.
"I imagine you weren't expecting that, were you?" Ertho asked eagerly.
"I was not, and I would be annoyed if you had not managed to make such a perfect copy. It even registers as being alive," Trachta said as he walked around the now deactived Replica Droid.
"Admittedly I had to program it with my brain algorithms for it to act exactly like me, but it will pass for an organic no matter how hard they look as long as now one cuts it open and digs too deeply," Ertho said with amusement as he watched the cyborg examine his prototype.
"How many of these can you make if provided a full production facility and resources," Trachta asked calmly and looked at Ertho.
"You mean you want to actually put this project into large scale production?" Ertho asked in astonishment yet his eye gleaming with eagerness to take on such a challenge.
"Yes, so how many?" Trachta demanded more sharply.
"Well, initinally only maybe 50 or so a month. Once I get down the correct production technique I imainge I could make 100 a month without too much fuss as long as I have the bio materials and electronics needed for work this complex."
"Then make preparations, we're expanding this facility with a full scale HRD production plant," Trachta said as he turned and left a stunned Ertho gaping as his back.
Project Homoculus had begun. </color>
~
<i><b>Shortly after Jesh Tolli’s Raid</b></i>
And now, more than a year later, it had long borne fruit. Millions of HRDs, manufactured in a vast facility at the center of Mechis III, now served within the Imperial Fleet, Bureaucracy and Army thanks to COMPNOR’s infiltration efforts – replacing dissidents or merely the unlucky with a perfectly identical copy, uploaded with even a subjects cognitive imprint to let it meld perfectly into its unlucky original’s former life. Even the SS was not immune to COMPNOR’s efforts.
But all of this was nothing compared to what was now about to unfold.
Thanks to Jesh Tolli, Doctor Ertho was about to create his greatest masterpiece.
~*~
<i><b>Shortly after Kach Thorton’s visit to Vladet </i></b>
Beneath the Super Star Destroyer <i>Nighthawk</i>, formerly the <i>Eternal</i>, Kach watched the fields and oceans of Muunilist rotate beneath the mighty battleship, a comforting presence in a region that had watched the destruction of Yaga Minor not long before. Further comforting were the two Borderland fleets, the 7th and the 9th, he had brought with him to the region to help stabilize things. With the fall of Courscant most of the refugee traffic had been directed toward the Mid-Rim, but a substantial portion of it had headed instead to the Yaga Minor Protectorate or the Bastion protectorate, the home of the former Imperial remnant and a veritable fortress fortified by years of preparation to resist the New Republic if it ever came knocking. Now, thanks to the refugees pirate activity in the protectorate had skyrocketed with an abundance of new targets and most warships staying close to important planets. In a few weeks, he suspected, these sectors would be cleared of pirates by the fleets and things would return to normal. In the meantime, he was here in an effort to reestablish contact with the region. Credit lines had frozen after the Coruscant attack and the region had been completely cut off from holonet communication with the rest of the Empire and the flow of capital had to begin again to avoid an economic collapse. To make matters worse, Moff Drayson disappeared after the attack on Yaga Minor and was presumed lost, leaving the protectorate leaderless.
“Melini,” he addressed his secretary. “Contact a Miss Darro at Arliss Industries. Tell her Kach Thorton is here to see Mr. Arliss.”
There was never something more frightening than having the capital warship of an Imperial bigwig floating in orbit over a world. In one moment, the SSD could (conceivably) open fire laying the economic powerhouse of a planet to ash. It would also irreversably wreck the Imperial economy which was why the planet was also defended in ways that not even the most militant starship captain could imagine. Still, the gargantuan warship was a symbol even Seamus Arliss could appreciate. For Arliss Towers cast it's shadow about both servitors and competitors in much the same way.
It was unsubtle and blatant.
It was a physical manifestation of power.
Kach Thorton, a highly placed and highly regarded officer in the current Imperial military and while even an Imperial military officer could be dangerous, a man of Thorton's calibre increased such danger exponentially.
Such people tended to not only burn their targets but everything around their targets by a given radius. Their unpredictable behavior ensured their opponents were typically at a loss, their punishments usually more than what was deserved. However, on the flip-side, their rewards were also similarly more than might be typically deserved for certain actions.
Kach Thorton and Seamus Arliss had never really traveled in the same crowds and the two probably would not have ever met had things continued as normal. But as one unoriginal newscaster from INS had stated over static holochanels, these were hardly normal times.
It was Kach Thorton who held the keys to the kingdom, so to speak. First Kaine, then Drayson had allowed Arliss Industries access to military designs and plans in exchange for probably something that had cost more on Arliss side than his Imperial military counterparts. But one always kept an account funded for being screwed over by the Imperial hierarchy.
It was a gamble with these people that Arliss would eventually get his due. Kaine had come through on his part which returned to Arliss the whole of his company. Of course, there were more chains shackling him by his old nemesis. Bhindi was content to simply ignore the company in favor of her own pet projects but what would this new Grand Moff be like?
There were rumors (oh there were rumors!) but what was truth and what were lies were left to speculation.
Time to find out.
"Mr. Arliss, Grand Moff Thorton is here to see you."
"Please send him in, Ms. Darro. Also, have the refreshments prepared. I believe his command has forwarded Mr. Thorton's tastes and we would be remiss in our duties as a host if we did not cater to them."
"Yessir."
Seamus Arliss had not expected the Grand Moff himself to come in person but, in hindsight, perhaps he should have. It was not so much that the Grand Moff needed to grandstand to impress upon the other his power though perhaps that had something to do with it. Nor was it the fact that nothing happened on Muunillist without it's premeir entrepreneur knowing about it though that too might have been a small part.
Perhaps it was the fact that such meetings between two power-brokers demanded personal attention.
Arliss personally had seen that his representatives had given the Grand Moff every deference due the rank. The man had, after all, fought at Coruscant and lived to tell the tale.
The Imperial entered and Seamus rose from behind his desk to greet him.
"Grand Moff Thorton, it truly is a pleasure to meet with you." He gestured to the refreshments that followed in the military officer's wake.
"Please, make yourself comfortable. I feel that we have a great many things to discuss regarding the future of the Empire and how it pertains to our selective interests."
<i>They’re colossal</i>, Kach reflected, studying the Arliss Towers outside his shuttle’s viewport. Huge and black, they dominated the landscape like the massive Super Star Destroyer orbiting above the world.
A massive shadow cast by the leviathan passed over the shuttle as if to remind him of its presence. Looking out across the cityscape, Kach could see other, smaller, shadows dancing beneath him, cast by the Star Destroyers and smaller ships that accompanied him. An impressive enough display of power, brought along to restore order to a protectorate swamped with refugees and pirate activity in the aftermath of Coruscant. Moffs and Governors, paralyzed by the alien threat had pulled their defense forces back to protect key planets and away from patrols on the hyperlanes, leaving lawlessness and disorder the rule of the day beyond civilized systems. The fleets getting ready to leave Muunilist would be more than enough to re-stabilize the region in short order and to remind those Moffs and Governors they had certain obligations they needed to keep toward the Empire and her citizenry.
And remind them, if necessary, where their loyalties lie.
That scenario was unlikely, however. Trachta and the ISB, weary of Bhindi Drayson and the formerly Demosthenians had infested this protectorate with a web of agents, sleeper cells and secret police to keep the oversector in line. True agents of the Empire, of course, would be in charge. The only question was who, of course, since the protectorate’s government had disappeared with Bhindi Drayson and the shipyards of Yaga Minor. The business of rebuilding the protectorate, however, could wait until current business was completed.
The landing at the towers was uneventful thanks to the clear weather and gentle winds. Greeting him on the platform as he stepped out of his shuttle was a small delegation of envoys from Arliss who shuffled him into the tower promptly. A short turbolift ride later and he was stepping into the office of Seamus Arliss.
“Grand Moff Thorton, it truly is a pleasure to meet with you,” his host greeted him. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I feel that we have a great many things to discuss regarding the future of the Empire and how it pertains to our selective interests."
“Thank you, Mr. Arliss,” Kach replied, reaching out his hand to take the Chief Executives and looking him in the eye like his father had taught him so long ago, “Please call me Kach. Do you have a conference table anywhere we could use?”
Arliss nodded. “Of course, this way,” he replied, gesturing to his office door. Predictably, a well-equipped meeting space was next door to the man’s office, and on the way there Kach selected a few small morsels on a server droid’s tray – he wasn’t hungry, but refusing them would be impolite. Diplomatically he chose a spot mid-way down the table and organized his notes while his host sat down nearby. A second assistant to Arliss – this one a human – asked if he would like anything to drink, and he asked for a light wine from Garos IV that he had developed a taste for while on the planet. While waiting for drinks to arrive Kach and his host bantered about the obvious subject of the times – Coruscant and the Reavers – with Kach careful not to talk much about himself. He knew within the Imperial Hierarchy he was well regarded, but even so an unfair and exaggerated reputation that he loved to talk about himself had started to proceed him during the past few months. Most of the conversation was commentary on the events and potential countermoves. Eventually his instincts began to tell him it was time to move on and he let the topic fade before changing to business. It wasn't his true goal for this meeting, but it could lead into it easily enough.
“I came today to ask your advice. Enough commentary from me, what do you think of the state of the empire today?"
Seamus was surprised at the question at first. But, after some more thought, he realized he probably should not have been. The man before him was a military officer and it was the Empire's military that had taken a beating for an entire year, most recently on Coruscant.
"State of the Empire as opposed to when?" Arliss asked. "It is a rather ambiguous question when you think about it. No doubt the new Emperor would like to see the Empire a certain way and perhaps he has a vision about it. Not knowing what that vision is, however, I cannot comment as to the practicality of achieving it. The reponsibility for moving the Empire in the direction of it's Emperor's vision typically will lay with those he communicates directly with. For Palpatine, it was Darth Vader and the Moffs. For Hyfe, it was the Supreme Commander. For Kraken, the government he is forming may be along different lines.
It is my opinion, however, with what I know so far, that Emperor Kraken will maintain the offices and positions created under Emperor Hyfe. It would be rather difficult to simply create new positions and responsibilities during a time of war.
And we are at war, though INS has been slow on the uptake."
He paused when an attendant entered refilling the Moff's glass as well as his own. After the attendant left, he continued, "My company has survived since Regent Exceron placed our world back into the hands of the Empire. It has survived by remaining close to those in power. We were there when Simon Kaine was Supreme Commander, we have backed severa initiatives from Supreme Commander Drayson and, now, we find ourselves on the outside looking in. Most of our connections were destroyed by this alien invasion and now we are rebuilding. Emperor Kraken is rebuilding is government but has been silent as to who will become the new Supreme Commander."
He stared at the Moff, "My analysist and my gut tell me that it might be you."
He grinned as he took a sip of the drink, "Therefore, in my estimation, the state of the empire would seem to rest quite a bit on what you do in the next few days or weeks."
