In the aftermath of Cataclysm...





Imperial Center

Vladet



Clusters of transports and construction craft littered the airways blocking Neela's view of Vladet’s blue sky. It had been two months since Governor Park Kraken's shattering announcement claiming the mantle of Emperor and establishing Vladet as the bright center of the Galactic Imperial universe. As a result, the Mid-Rim Protectorate had become the Empire Proper for the legislation and governance of the rest of the Imperium.

It was a smaller Imperium that Emperor Kraken inherited as some worlds were lost to the Reaver threat, others to rebellion and yet still others to the brutal alien attack that destroyed Coruscant and spelled doom for the late-Regent Azrael Zell's government.

With the seat of government now located on Valdet, Emperor Kraken found his agencies too small to carry out his commands effectively, especially with the influx of new arrivals from the Core. Buildings had to be improved upon, expanded and then enlarged again as the various government ministries settled into the new capital. Immigrants from the previous administration coming out of the Siege to take up their previous posts found their positions already filled as Kraken had used his own Protectorate Government as the blueprint for his own style of Empire-wide administration. Using his own people had been the easiest way to implement the change in government since Coruscant had been under assault at the time of his assumption of the Imperial Throne and the evacuees had yet to be sorted out. Now, as organization began to once again assert control, the previous government workers showed up expecting their old jobs back on an unfamiliar world resulting in various clashes. Kraken's government and political backers rising on his coat-tails of success expected to keep their newly elevated positions but they were inexperienced when it came to actually running an organization as complex as the Empire. The new Emperor realized this early on and started programs to assign posts to the more experienced servants so as to capitalize on their abilities.

Life on Vladet was unlike life on Coruscant and this was to be an ongoing concern as evacuees were placed on planets throughout the Mid-Rim's Empire Proper and other Protectorates. Culture clashes were inevitable as there were few, if any, total city-wide planets leaving the evacuating ecunopolists misunderstood and under-appreciated (at least, in their minds). Culture aside, even the evacuees’ living experiences would require great adjustments. Now, they lived with the ground under their feet instead of the hundreds of levels of city. Now, they lived with the sights, sounds and smells of a planet’s natural characteristics instead of the typically processed, sterilized or smog-ridden atmosphere that passed for air on Coruscant. Fashions on Corsucant were considered as strange as the aliens who attacked the former capital to those living outside the Core. Entertainment programs were different and those agencies who were so used to the technological speed of instant news, instant programming, instant communication, instant gratification were horrified to find themselves having to resort to 'smoke signals' to find out anything. While, of course, this was an exaggeration, the fact of the matter was that the near instant increase of Vladet’s population and infrastructure taxed its various utility networks beyond their limits. Transmission networks were overloaded and Emperor Kraken had to pass several draconian measures to ensure certain priorities.

Hence the massive construction contracts taking place all over the world to meet the increased demand. Despite the inconveniences, however, many of the evacuees were simply grateful to be alive as KIA and MIA numbers of both civilian and military units from the Core increased daily.


*


Some of the Imperial organizations could weather the changes in political climate. For example, the Census Bureau provided the leadership with numbers. Numbers that were essential in assessing who to tax and how much to tax. Rebellious planets forced the local Bureau to simply report the numbers to the new leadership who would then decide how best to collect taxes by doing away with the Imperial model of taxation entirely and employing their own tax code or not. In any event, the local Bureau went on with its business collecting numbers.


Other agencies and organizations could not adapt quite as well. INS, for example, pretty much was torn down in the newly liberated Jutraalian Empire. Those employees of INS were imprisoned or stripped of their function as it's assets were converted over to proclaim the glories to come under the new management.


Coupled with the loss of the INS HQ on Coruscant, the new (and rather inadequate) branch location on Vladet that now served as the organization's new headquarters (for INS HQ should never be far from the seat of power in the Empire) had to face the fact that INS resources were gutted and stretched thin.


When the aliens first attacked Coruscant, INS leaders hedged their bets. Half left the first chance they got while others more daring decided to wait out the siege placing their bets with Regent Zell for a government's best and brightest defenders always surrounded its leaders. Unfortunately, those INS managers and employees that stayed had not factored on Moff Thorton and ISB's coup that left Zell dead and Park Kraken's initiative moving Imperial Center hundreds of thousands of lightyears out to the Mid Rim. Those that left could not believe their luck and gave themselves all promotions when word of their counterpart's demise came to light. They pushed the locals out of their own INS branch and began setting up INS HQ, pushing all their limited resources to supporting the new Emperor Park Kraken in the hopes that doing so would give INS access to much needed funds after Muunillist had frozen most of the accounts. It was important for the INS leadership to support not only the most 'legitimate' leader but the one that had the best chance of surviving beyond the year. Emperor Kraken was known for his savvy way of coming back from the dead to thwart his enemies and his own fleet was probably the only one carrying out the most proactive efforts of the entire Imperial Fleet next to Grand Admiral Desaria. It also helped that his fleet had not been battered to hell and gone.


And so, in this culture-in-flux, this transition time of the Empire, Neela found herself bored. Her local award for her 'The Many Lives of Park Kraken' did not seem to impress the new arrivals from Coruscant since they lumped her in with their prejudices against Mid-Rim Bumpkins.


It seemed all everyone wanted to talk about was the Imperial Family since it was the first time that such a situation existed with the leadership. Both Palpatine and Hyfe were unmarried and had no families. INS had spent millions of credits trying to find if they had impregnated anyone since nothing sold better than Coruscant gossip. And in gossip, Park Kraken's family satisfied ad naseum. Who were his daughters seeing? Was his son an eligible bachelor? Who wanted to be seen with the Krakens and how could they accomplish it?


"Has it crossed anyone's notice that Emperor Kraken is also the first non-force user Emperor?" Neela asked her Editor. He looked up from his monitor that was trained on protestors outside the INS building. It seemed a rather intrepid INS reporter/hacker tried to find out the favorite sexual position of a famed Kraken family member. Needless to say, it scandalized many citizens of Vladet who were protective of the 'Imperial Family'. Strange that they were not so protective when Park was governor but now, as Emperor, everyone was his friend.


"What was that, Neela?" he absently started and then frowned, "Ahh.. yes, the Force-angle."


"That is news, Luick. Not what the Emperor's favorite silk underwear brand is!"


"Neela, Neela, Neela. The news is what sells. If people want to know the Emperor's brand of underwear, we shall give it to them. It heartens us to know that we can be of service in helping Imperial citizens to be like their beloved Emperor!"


"Stop with the propaganda crap! You know I hate it when you try to be like Groder Stu."


"Neela, we cannot talk about the Emperor's force ability or lack thereof."


"Why not!?" she demanded.


"First, what if he is a force user and spreading lies about him pisses him off? You'd disappear and then who would I get to bring me caff in the morning?"


"Well, if he's a force user, then there's no story. What does it hurt to investigate?"


"Neela, no!" Luick was feeling exasperation. "Suppose he is not a force user, then we would be giving out critical information regarding a weakness of our Emperor."


"Who said being a non-force user was a weakness!" Neela nearly shouted back, defending her stance. "Simon Kaine was not a force user."


"Simon Kaine is also not here. Perhaps he was killed? Perhaps for not being a force user?"


"Luick!" now it was Neela's turn at exasperation.


"No, Neela. Maybe after the Emperor has solidified better his reign. For all we know, Lord Lupercus may come back and ..."


"Where is Lupercus?!"


"Corellia has it's own problems right now. All I can say is that the Core is not the best of places to be right now."


"Bhindi Drayson's death has not been confirmed," Neela suddenly snapped her fingers.


"Now you want to travel to Yaga Minor? Neela, the fleet hasn't even gone back and it may not go back if those aliens are still there."


"Of course, the fleet will go back.."


"Neela, the Emperor is a smart cracker." Luick grinned at his own joke. "Kraken is a smart cracker."


He turned serious, "He may just put all these current losses on the shoulders of Bhindi Drayson since she was the Supreme Commander of our Military. Hell he may put it off in old Zell. That absolves him of responsibility for the mistakes of the past."


"So?" Neela shot back.


"And so, why send good money after bad?" Luick asked. "A significant portion of Bhind's fleet was destroyed at Yaga Minor. We have probes scittering about the system but really, do we want to launch an invasion back only to lose? I am not saying we never will go back but the Emperor needs to consolidate and to embark on what may turn into a massive military operation when our even our government is in transition is foolish."


Neela grinned, "Can I quote you when I report the Emperor's decision to regain Yaga Minor when it's launched?"



"If you do, you'll be fired for lying." Luick shot back.



After a bit of silence, the INS Editor relented, "Why don't you write about some of Kach Thorton's new policies? I am sure he would love an interview.."



"Especially since Emperor Kraken has not made a decision regarding the position. For all we know, he could dissolve the position entirely." Neela smirked back. "Besides, Kach Thorton will not want his ideas in print, he'll want to issue them from a podium so he could hear the sounds of his voice."


"He does like to hear it," Luick agreed.


"Writing about what someone is going to do is not my style. It seems more like fiction since it hasn't happened yet. I want to write about something of substance. I want an actual mystery to uncover. I want to know why we went there when we could have gone here. I want to know why we went here when we should have gone there! I want to know.."


"But nobody else cares, Neela. You are starting to sound like a 'Regrad Speech'. Big insidious Empire dupes the masses. It sounds like old Rebel propaganda."



"It was good enough for the Federal Oversight eXaminer.."



"FOX was not news. They are haters and well paid haters at that." Luick thought for a moment. "Though it's not a bad idea to have haters to stir up some selling drama. I wonder if the Director will revive the subsidiary. Hmm.... I wonder if they'll get that weeping guy."



"I think he died on Coruscant."



Luick sighed, "Now there's a damn tragedy for you."



Neela should have been appalled at her Editor lamenting the death of a single profit-making INS employee (twice removed) rather than the billions that died on Coruscant. In fact, she wondered why she was not lamenting the loss herself.



Perhaps I am just still processing that fact that I am still alive. Perhaps it will hit me later.



"Luick, do you feel happy that those other Imperials died while we lived?"


"No," he answered bluntly. "But, I might be more broken up about it if I was a Coruscant evacuee."


Neela had to admit that the attitude made sense. They were from Vladet which had remained relatively safe during the galactic upsets of rebellion, Reavers and these aliens who had especially targeted the Empire.



*



“So, what’s the word on the street?” Neela asked as she loaded up a Starfly Harptoad with a variety of spicy sauces from several unmarked containers.

Vladet may not be as much of a cosmopolitan planet as the Core worlds but it did have several nuances that Neela appreciated. For one, there were actual streets and these streets, as with Coruscanti life, teemed with rumors, innuendos, lies and, yes, sometimes the tidbit of real news that helped reporters such as herself make a name for themselves on the circuit or, at the very least, earned them a credit chits to pay their bills.

“Empire is getting it’s butt kicked from the Rim to the Core,” the alien boasted jovially. Evidently, Vladet’s anti-alien bias had not taken a foothold here and there was a bit more freedom of speech. Not that there was such a thing a ‘Freedom of Speech’ but, rather, what the local Imperial Government was willing to tolerate. Every so often, INS or some other affiliate might cross an unspoken line and have to issue a retraction, pay a fine or suffer the offending individual’s imprisonment. As an organization, it was not a bad situation for there were always hungry up-and-coming reporters willing to take the offending individual’s job/position. Most ‘opposition’ pieces done by the various networks were staged. While a decision or action might be lightly questioned, there was always a smart, in-depth analysis on why the government or government official said or did this or that.

Some were not stages and those were the more daring news or correspondence items. Such organizations and people liked to live on the edge and provided the release that the population enjoyed so frustration with government did not directly translate into rebellious activities. It was not the only pressure release built in the Empire by such leaders as Simon Kaine but it was one of the most visible.

And now the builders, Hyfe, Zell, Kaine..even Drayson were gone leaving their legacy to Kraken, Desaria, Thorton, Voss and others..


“You think this is the end of the Empire?” she lightly asked a question that was everything but.

The alien vendor chuckled loudly while serving up his tasty dishes to customers lined up behind Neela intent on getting something to eat rather than conversing. Neela stepped out of their way but waited for a response.

“Neela, Neela, Neela. In another life I could have been a teacher,” the alien lamented. “Of course it’s not the end. Coruscant’s been lost before. In fact, the Empire was once pushed out to the Rim and was a mere Remnant of itself. Did the Imperials fall on their swords in despair?”

“They came back..” Neela nodded.

“An Imperial is a stubborn person. The very house they live in could be burning down around them and they will still assume that lofty superior attitude of theirs and invite you to dinner the following day. How, What, Why are unimportant. Only, what will be is first and foremost.”

Neela snorted a laugh as she bit into her Starfly. “Gubb, this is good!”

“Of course, it’s good. I would not be selling them in the Palace Sector otherwise.”

Neela almost choked. A bit of controversy was the building of a new palace for the new Emperor and she asked, “You scared of being taxed like you do business in the Palace Sector?”

The alien named Gubb only laughed heartily. “Emperor Kraken will not raise the taxes on us.”

“No?”

“If he drives us vendors away, where will he go to get the best Starfly Harptoads this side of the Core?”

“He’s Emperor, Gubb. He can hire a first class cook.”

“Ahh..”, the vendor held up a tentacled hand, “But Emperor Kraken is a Rim-world Emperor. Not a Core-world Emperor.”

“What difference does that make?” Neela demanded.

“Park Kraken is a man of action. He does things for himself even if he does like the highlife. If the man wants a harptoad, he will go get himself a harptoad. He won’t have it staffed out.”


“Well, there’s a human interest story. Boring, but a story.”

“Hey! You could put some coupons in your paper for my Starfly Harptoads,” Gubb waved his hands wide, “Just like Emperor Kraken likes em!”

“Well, you’ll either make a fortune or be shot for defaming the Emperor.”

The alien only chuckled, “You don’t get anywhere without a little risk.”


*


“Still getting your news from alien scum, Neela?” her hairdresser sneered as he pinned back several locks to color underneath.

Letting the racist remark pass, Neela merely responded gamely, “As opposed too?” she inquired innocently.

“Everybody knows that if you want to know what’s going on, you call on the government hairstylists!”

“I thought that was mistresses?” she shot back.

“Oh no,” her hairstylist said seriously. “Those can be replaced easily. But trying to find another stylist who does you up like you want? That’s hard to find!”

Neeal laughed and the hairstylist scowled because her head moved.

“I hear that our Emperor is not going to raise taxes on Vladet vendors.”

“Of course not!” her stylist responded as if anyone who thought otherwise were two engines short of a two engine ship.

“Because it would drive local businesses out of business?” Neela prompted.

“Because it is stupid for any leader to overtax those closest to him!” the stylist stated. “The construction costs of Vladet are not going to be burdened on Vladet! The rest of the Empire is going to carry the expenses wrapped in whatever military upgrades his majesty desires as well.”

“The military is getting upgrades?” Neela asked, shocked. With billions of civilians trying to settle in, spending money on the Imperial Fleet seemed like a slap in the face. Especially a fleet that has not done much to their credit. Sure, there were instances here and there of smart fleet policy but the military was a constant credit drain on the Imperial economy in wartime. And the Empire was in wartime even if they had no clear strategy or plan on how to handle the Reavers or the alien threat except the old orders of simply sending good money after bad. The ships that the Emperor ordered into the Borderlands had been lost and the new IHC had not quite figured out that sending more ships, more firepower helped in the short term but by the time any civilian or administration follow-ups to consolidate the areas politically arrived, the Reavers had overcome the push and those follow-ups entered a high danger area with no military aid. The ships sent to Corella were stranded like their predecessors with Centerpoint still active and any plan put into action to slip ships farther into the system was upset by the fact that the enemy had no such limitations or hindrance. But the Emperor continued to argue for the retaking of the Corellian shipyards and how they were vital to the war effort. The problem was now, with a plan to upgrade the current military, the shipyards on Corellia were close to becoming obsolete (depending on what those upgrades were). If the changes to shipyards were minimal then that begged the question, were the upgrades really all that important for all their costs? The Core was a warzone and free-for-all. So why spend money on it?


“The military always gets upgrades!” the stylist answered slightly tugging at Neela’s hair. “An Emperor is only as strong as his military and the state of the military is a measure of the state of the Empire. The Empire lost nearly half the entire Imperial Fleet under Regent Zell which is why INS is dumping on Zell publicly on most of the problems being faced. A weak fleet is a weak Emperor.”

“So he is continuing ineffective offense action to retain his image?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time and it probably will not be the last. But you better be sure that Emperor Kraken is not going to anger the residents of Vladet, the seat of his power.”

“What could they do?”

“Plenty! This is not Coruscant. You have to remember that our Emperor Kraken was, up until a few months ago, our presumed dead Governor. Presumed dead not by heart attack or health issue but by an assassination attempt that was well planned and well executed. Park Kraken may be Emperor now but that does not mean those that hate his guts suddenly love him!”

“But they may be mollified because they are not a part of Imperial Center?”

“They may be mollified because now, they are the center of the Empire and like it or not, a citizen of Vladet now has a galactic meaning that it hasn’t before. You assassinate Park Kraken and the next Emperor or Regent may take that away giving another planet that recognition.”

“And if Kraken goes easy on his own people..”

“He defangs those people intent on his death by swinging the planet back into his favor.”

Neela sat back as the stylist began to wash her hair. “He mollifies the rest of the Empire by sending the fleet out and even if it does lose..”

“He probably has estimates of how much of the fleet he can afford to lose..”

“And those losses pay for his political stability while he does what?”

The stylist poured the warm water over Neela’s hair as she spoke and Neela could hear the smile in the other’s voice, “that is the question, isn’t it?”

*


Neela sighed as she walked into her apartment. Rent was going up but not by much. She had chosen her location because it was in the outer part of the city center but now, with the capital growing so much, she now found herself in what was going to be the center of town. And, because of that, the landlord saw an opportunity to profit from the situation.


“Hello, Neela,” came a soft voice from the darkness of an adjoining room.


Neela jumped at the sound and instinctively went for her personal stun gun until she saw her brother emerge.


“Keslo!”


Her brother had been listed as lost with the Borderland’s ill-fated 3rd Battlegroup and she had just started to get over the loss. As she looked at him now, he seemed to have the haunted expression of a person coping with survivor’s guilt. But that did not stop her from hugging him nearly to death.


*

Situated in her kitchen area, after going through the run-down on how various relatives were faring, he started to sip the hot beverage she had prepared and cleared his throat before delving back into memories best left forgotten.


“The assignment was Bandomeer,” he started, his eyes narrowing in concentration. “Kach Thorton had disobeyed orders to pull out leaving several elements of his fleet throughout the Borderlands. The 3rd Battlegroup under Captain Ferro attempted to coordinate with the others to form some sort of zone defense of the area. Thorton had taken the main elements to Imperial Center so Ferro was the man on the spot and he had decided to rally at Bandomeer.”


Neela, having poured herself a cup, sat down and asked, “Didn’t Bandomeer declare independence?”


“That they did and that was probably the main reason Ferro decided to go there first. The fleet did not seem to realize that the Reavers can track holonet signals and we are still not sure how far that detection can run. Some of those few elements left in the Borderlands gave their positions away immediately and were not heard from again. Some remained unmolested and met us.. I was with Captain Ferro on his flagship…at Bandomeer.”


He paused, taking another long sip. “Needless to say, Bandomeer was not happy to see us.”


“What did they do?” Neela was curious for those reports that were leaked to the public showed the fleet her brother was attached too destroyed near Bandomeer with no explanation as to how. She always assumed it was the Reavers but perhaps not?


“Do?” Her brother frowned. “They did nothing!”


Neela was confused. “I don’t…”


“The Reavers track holonet signals,” her brother reminded. “Captain Ferro signaled the planet. Coordinated a military drop when the world went dark and continued to send the standard signal of surrender and occupation before sending out a jamming signal of static.”


“So then the Reavers could not track..”


“You have to broadcast in the format you are jamming, Neela. Modulating signals require static broadcast in modulation format for it to jam those signals. Modulation static does not block holonet frequencies. When a fleet jams, it sends static (or a jamming signal) out on all bands, all formats! Whether you are communicating or not, you are still broadcasting in the format the Reavers use to track. The Reavers do not care about the content of the broadcast be it military secrets or simple static. They respond to either. And with the amount of signal flares Captain Ferro was sending up, they did come.”


Seeing the horrified look the memory caused her brother, she focused attention on another detail. “You said the planet went dark?”


At this, her brother smiled. “It was actually clever of them. Bandomeer must have stopped worldwide holonet broadcasts and receptions early on. Probably use modulation frequencies or smoke signals for all I know. But when the Imperial Fleet showed up, their power centers went dark as well. It was like someone just flipped the power switch ‘off’.”


He shuddered. “The Reavers struck our ships hard. The more they called for help, the more Reavers they attracted. The Reavers also hit the planet since the ground forces were calling up to the ships for instructions. I can tell you that the planet has no love for the Empire. You may have been able to bank on some loyalist after their declaration of independence but not after this. Not after we brought these Reavers to their surface.”


Keslo closed his eyes. “How do you defend against a person bleeding from the mouth, raving with an artificially induced hysteria? How do you defend against their clawing at you? Biting at you? How do you defend when a drop of their blood is enough to infect you?”


“So Bandomeer is dead?” Neela nearly gasped.


Her brother smiled grimly, “No. They firebombed the entire landing zone and several kilometers out from ground zero. It must have killed hundreds of their own but they vaporized everything and they ensured that no more signals were being sent from the surface.”


Neela paused at the enormity of what she had just been told. “So, how did you survive?”


“Survival pod,” Keslo answered quickly. “Some pods emit a holonet emergency signal which the Reavers, we found out to our horror, also track. Mine happened to be disabled so really, it was just luck. They were not terribly aggressive towards the planet once the signals stopped. And they did not go after every pod from what I could see. But I did see one Imperial ship blow another infected Imperial ship to bits only to have that ship become infected by those bits. Trading blow for blow with these things does not work. Sure you blow the ships to bits but unless you can actually vaporize those bits out of existence, all you are doing is scattering infection. This infection not only affects living beings but it can also affect inanimate objects. There is some sort of purple growth that forms on the outside of ships, machinery, buildings. You know, Reaver debris can pass through shields? Those ships of the fleet more automated were taken quickly and easily even as the crew remained uninfected. Those ships eventually jumped away with their non-infected crew. You know how a spider will paralyze it’s prey and then wrap that prey to take with it for a later meal? That is what these Reavers reminded me of. Can you imagine? An uninfected crewman on a ship that cannot be controlled travelling at lightspeed waiting their turn to either be infected or eaten to sustain infected? That is true horror.”


Neela shuddered with her brother and forced her mind not to dwell on those unlucky souls.


“The people of Bandomeer eventually arrived and rescued those pods left untouched. The Reavers take their time but they are not interested in holding areas. I mean, their space is marked but they leave things alone unless they are disturbed, attracted or threatened. You just have to outwait them and those bits and pieces that were scattered by firepower eventually coalesce into a whole piece again and leave with the main body. Or so the Bandomeerian Navy thinks.”


“Sounds like a hive of flying insects,” Neela observed and Keslo nodded his head.


“I agree. But the Empire’s strategy is not predicated upon leaving well enough alone like you would with stinging insects. They have to dominate or be destroyed and the stingers on the Reavers kill.”


“The Reaver numbers are augmented with each new swing at their nest?”


“Something like that. I do not think there is a consensus of just how many Reavers there are. There are ideas about the numbers of fleets they possess but even those numbers are outdated as new fleets are formed after a certain point splitting off main bodies.”


“Like new insect colonies forming?”


“Exactly. These things adapt at a terrifying rate and there is a report floating around that the Reavers are a plot from the Black Dragon Empire.”


At that, Neela turned white. Like most Imperials, they did not know what to make of the Black Dragon Empire even though Emperor Kraken had hosted them on Vladet at one time. Their warships were scary, their technology advanced and their race and citizens a mystery. It was their silence that allowed the Imperials to go on with life without thinking much about them but it was also that same silence that scared the crap out of them when the Imperium was in the news.


She shook her head. She had to focus. “What report?” she asked.


Her brother smiled. “Can’t shake the reporter out of you, can I? When I asked why we were expending our resources on a fallen sector, Captain Ferro told me on our way to Bandomeer that the Borderlands were important for IHC Imperial policy towards the Dragon-Problem.”


“The Dragon-Problem?”


“Just because the Empire treats someone nice, it does not mean that they do not have plans to invade or kill them…just in case.”


Neela frowned. She imagined that the higher-ups of the Imperial Hierarchy had their reasons but such future plans sometimes killed present initiatives. “So the Empire cannot attack the Dragons without the Borderlands?” Somehow, she did not think so.


“Well, the way Captain Ferro described it was that all the preparations to make ready such an invasion are all sitting in warehouses, docks and those shipyards not blown to bits within the Borderlands. The longer those worlds remain separate from the Empire, the less likely those resources will be there for IHC’s use as the worlds begin to look to their own ends. They cannot sit on them indefinitely, especially if they are cut off from the Empire. And the existence of the Reavers definitely cuts them off.” He took another sip of his drink.


“At first, Kach Thorton’s Command was worried the Reavers, if they were a Dragon plot, would find the Dragon attack plans the Imperial leadership had drawn up and, therefore, find justification for the Reaver’s action upon us. It would be a declaration of war and we would be the culprits on the galactic stage. If such information was found by the Dragons, Thorton’s command could have been charged with negligence if not treason and probably shot by an irate Imperial High Command.”


“But the Reavers are attacking everyone..”


“Captain Ferro figured it was a smoke screen. But, in the end, we found out the Reavers were not interested in such things like justification or who made what plans. They consume, infect and spread. And they are going to be a damned problem.”


“Well, I am sure Emperor Kraken will take care of the situation. He is talking,” she made a face to imitate their Emperor, “Consolidation, Consolidation, Consolidation!”.


Her brother smiled faintly as she wagged her finger and finished his drink.


She could see that he was still troubled by something but she let him take his time. She knew her brother and sooner or later, he would speak.


“Most of those rescued from the escape pods by the Bandomeerians were conscripted into service for the Royal Bandomeer Navy. Since everyone rescued was in the Imperial service, most did not mind having a gun to man or soldiers at their side deep inside Reaver Space. Since I was INS, though, they had no use for me. I was trying to figure out how to leave the world when I was visited by a fellow Bandomeerian reporter. With Bandomeer declaring independence, he was able to gain access to some documents yet to be declassified by the Royal Bandomeer Intelligence. It was an ISB execution directive.”


“For whom?” Neela asked.


“Some analyst,” her brother remarked off-handedly. “It seemed to be linked to a move by ISB to squash the existence of a report that this analyst had a hand in preparing. A report prepared for the eyes of Supreme Commander Simon Kaine.”


“Did you see the report?” Neela asked curiously. Any information on Simon Kaine was a potential credit-mine and she commented on it.


Keslo laughed. “The Bandomeerian reporter was disgusted at the situation. The declaration of independence gave him the information that could have made him rich in the INS circuit. But that same independence threw out INS and the Bandomeerians couldn’t give a damn about Simon Kaine.”


“So he gave you the information?”


Keslo grinned, “If you mean getting him drunk and taking it from him then yes. He gave it to me. Fortunately, I knew of a few merchants willing to brave the Reavers and booked passage. There are not that many willing to fly out where the Reavers lurk but if you do not use your holonet and keep a low profile, it is possible. Some make it, some don’t. We happened to make it and I am out of reach from my fellow Bandomeerian journalist. Independence can really suck sometimes.”

Neela was excited. “So what information do you have?”



Keslo gave a tired smile that was devoid of his earlier haunting. This was excitement, hubris and not a little greed mixed into his attitude that Neela found infectious.


“Nothing much. Just a little bit about the Empire dying within the next two decades.”


Neela dropped her glass.

*


THE PAST...

LAYING THE FOUNDATION

The various dignitaries had introduced themselves each measuring the other seated across the glossy black table.


A Spartan had walked up handing the Grand Marshall several data pads, turned, and left the room securing it. Pushing a button flush with the table, the room began to take on a faint bluish tint.


“This room is secured from eavesdroppers. Our ships in orbit will make sure we remain undisturbed for the duration of this meeting.”


“Pardon me, Marshall, but what is the purpose of this meeting?” an aging woman, Admiral Gatticus, of Imperial Military Command, interrupted smoothly.


Simon paused for a brief moment to collect his thoughts, his eyes measuring the looks on the others.


Some were expressionless while others held intense curiosity. And yet others, Moff Zell for instance, looked utterly bored.


It was an act.


“Gentlemen.. and women, despite the mounting victories of our fleets and the creative capabilities displayed by our soldiers, analysts have predicted we have roughly 25 years left of life before our government begins to crumble.”


The silence held for an entire minute…

*


Neela stared out at the transports flying by. The refugees were still coming and they would continue to arrive for months.


Coruscant, they had said, was dead.


The Phage weaponry had been used and all communication with the world had ceased.


Where the aliens, this.. Dominion, would strike next was anybody's guess.


...we have roughly 25 years left of life before our government begins to crumble.


She had started to count the number of ships but the numbers started to trail off as her mind pondered the words of her brother.


Things were crumbling now.


She started at the thought wondering where it had crept up from.


Simon Kaine ordered a study that showed the decline of the Empire. He remained at the head of the Imperial State, second politically only to the Emperor, for several more years before abruptly resigning.


At least it seemed to some as abrupt.


Did he leave because he found he could not prevent the fall?


Or was it something else?


It was the quintessential question, conspiracy theory or other hidden topic of conversation before the alien attacks and the shattering of the Empire's facade of invincibility.


Why had he retired?


Were the events even connected?


For all she knew, Simon Kaine was sitting on a beach on some backwater world.


Or a pre-technological world since there is no way someone with a receiver doesn't know the galaxy has taken a turn for the worse.


The former Supreme Commander had severed all lines that would lead anyone to him.


Or did he?



Were there still threads lying around the galaxy. Threads like an innocuous report created several years ago.



She wondered where this thread would lead.


...and how many more were out there.



Where are you?

Vladet



"I understand that you are paying for information regarding Supreme Commander Kaine," came a voice without a body.


Neela looked up from the report she was reading to see no one sitting across her desk.


"Down here," the voice intruded again before she could shrug it off as a figment of her imagination and return to her reading.


She began to stand up and saw the smallest looking man she had ever witnesses. At least, half man. For the figure had no legs and sat upon a rather flat repulser lift. A brief thought wandered into her mind wondering what the galaxy looked like from his vantage point below most everyone's field of vision.


"Can I help you?" she asked, trying to remember what his first words were.


He readily supplied the answer, "I asked if you were still paying for information regarding Supreme Commander Kaine."


She had to blink her eyes because the ad only ran for a single week, in an obscure paper since it was all she could afford now that prices for advertising in the newly minted Imperial Center seemed to skyrocket. Good ol' Vladet had held on to modest pricing at first but like any person who finds themselves famous, afterwards the price for their time inflates.


"Yes, Mr...ugh..?"


"Dram," the cripple completed.


"Mr. Dram. We are paying for such information," she confirmed though truth be told, she was the one paying since her INS boss did not want to appear as if the Organization was actively working to demonize a highly decorated Imperial leader. Especially not one of Kaine's reputation.

The man may be gone but his legacy remained.


The man nodded as if satisfied and entered a few commands into his personal "skiff" (for lack of a better word). Neela watched it rise and settle into a chair opposite her desk where she was now looking at Mr. Dram at eye level.


"You may ask your questions," he prodded after a few moments of silence.


"You are?" the reporter asked. She had had her share of people claiming this or that about Simon Kaine hoping to get free money from her offer and was not simply going to take this Mr. Dram at his word.


Mr. Dram himself seemed conservatively dressed, his neatly pressed slacks folded up and under at the ends. He was clean shaven and sported a military-style haircut though he seemed to be gaining weight around the jowls.


Probably due to his injury.


The man extended his thumb and Netta realized what he was doing. She opened her drawer and took out a special piece of equipment to carry out the task Mr. Dram seemed to desire. Almost every organization has their own special method of identification confirmation and this just happened to be hers.

He pressed his thumb down in the indicated area and as she connected it to her main computer, she began to watch the processing take place.

She wondered if anything would even show up since alot of Imperial data was networked. Reavers, Rebellions and Alien Invasions tended to reduce certain chunks of that network to rubble which left incomplete data in a variety of locations. While still secured, it was fragmented and it would be quite a while before some semblance of order was put back. Some data would obviously be irretrievably lost on Coruscant which made confirming anything problematic at best.

The computer beeped and she was shaken away from her thoughts to the dossier that appeared on her screen. At least the unclassified portions since it was only a general outline of the life led by the half-man before her.


"Captain Dram of the Terra Nasar," she read out loud. "Disabled in the line of duty during the occupation of Chiss. Assigned a teaching position at the Imperial Academy on Carida..."


She looked up.


"What are you doing here?"


"The Academy has been evacuated," Mr. Dram answered. "Who wants to travel to the Core for school with Alien fleets, rebels and Reavers about?"


Mr. Dram had a point.


"The Emperor wisely moved the Academy to another world more suited for the young in our Empire to travel to. Also, it is easier to conscript them into our remaining fleets from a centralized world," he stated.


Neela stared at the man for a moment before continuing. There was something about him that raised her ire but she could not put her finger on what.


"You were an officer in Kaine's fleet," it was not a question.


Mr. Dram nodded.


"So, what are you doing here?"


The man seemed surprised by the question. "I am sorry? I thought I made myself plain with the question pertaining to payment for information. I am a recent evacuee from Carida and, since my teaching position was filled by someone more 'capably qualified'," he seemed to spit out the term, "I am in need of some funds to live on until I become situated."


"I mean, why are you here," her finger pointed to her desk, "..in the Empire and not out galavanting around whereever the Supreme Commander went?"


"Why didn't I retire with him?" the man asked innocently and Netta's eyes narrowed at the question.


It was like a fire that poked her brain as the implications of the man's question burned within.


She began to voice her thought process, "The man retired his position and took his fleet with him. If they all retired with him then that would make for some rather cramped retirement quarters don't you think? Therefore, it seems logical to presume that the only thing Mr. Kaine retired was his rank and not necessarily his purpose or activities."

she was proud of that little bit of logical reasoning and looked pointedly back at Mr. Dram, "Since he took his fleet with him and you were a member of that fleet, I have to ask, again, why didn't you go with him?"


Mr. Dram looked down at his missing limbs and Neela snorted. "Do not try to get sympathy out of me. Many people lose their limbs and have them replaced with prosthetics. Darth Vader was said to be part-man, part-machine. ISB's Trachta was said to be so as well. Luke Skywalker and the late Gash Jiren all were said to have mechanical hands/arms so I know that you could as well!"


Neela was rather satisfied with her analysis until the former Captain Dram replied, "I have a rare disease that rejects any prosthetic. Unfortunately, it is uncurable and so here I am."


Neela was silent for a moment. The man did not seem to be depressed about his condition as perhaps another might be or perhaps as she would be if in the same situation.


"I apologize if I seemed callous but even given your condition, Kaine would not take you with him?"


Dram smiled. "On the contrary, he offered me the choice before meeting with Emperor Hyfe on Coruscant. He could have swung by and picked me up if I so chose."


"So you chose to stay?"


Mr. Dram smiled slightly. "You do not look behind the veil, Miss. You are taking my words at face value and coming to conclusions that are in error. Not the conclusions themselves but the meaning behind them."


"I don't understand." Neela confessed.


"I chose to stay. But not in the manner in which you might think. For instance, let us say that you and I are loyal friends. And I inform you that I am going away for a while and that I am offering you a choice to come with me or teach at the Academy. However, I also state that I would prefer, as a loyal friend, that you teach, how would you chose?"


"If we were loyal friends, I would teach, I think," the reporter answered.


"So you would chose to stay as well," Mr. Dram concluded.


"You did not turn down an offer from Simon Kaine by chosing to stay, you merely accepted an offer from Simon Kaine by chosing to stay," she translated.


The half-man nodded in agreement.


"Are you 256th?" she asked suddenly. Mr. Dram started to shake his head but then thought better of it.


"In a manner of speaking, I suppose. But I am not an original. I am third generation," he responded.


"Again, I don't understand," Neela murmured.


"It is a term applied only within the Corps. By 'Corps', I mean the 256th hierarchy. The original 256th chartered by the Galactic Empire prior to Endor was an Imperial garrison with a fighter attachment stationed on the world of Sotel. The world had joined the rebellion and Simon Kaine was one of the last recruits to be assigned there. It was said that his father was leading the rebels on that world which was why he was sent."


"Is that true?"


Mr. Dram shrugged, "They never really knew and since we do not know Palpatine's thinking on the matter, it is impossible to confirm the hows or whys of Kaine's assignment there. In any event, the aftermath of the rebel attack killed most of the command of the 256th and an Imperial Representative promoted Simon Kaine to Colonel, replenished the ranks and gave him command. Call it a perverse assignment if they were fighting his father or simply the fact that the cream of the military crop was pulled away to Endor, Kaine took command and defeated the rebels. In any event, the victory was short-lived for Palpatine died at Endor along with good many Imperial soldiers and the Empire found itself with other priorities than reinforcing a nondescript world. Without that support, it was impossible for the garrison to indefinitely hold Sotel and so they left. Getting back to the term, those that left were the original 256th. First Generation."


"So, second generation was?"


"You may not know this but the Corps under Kaine's command when he returned to the Empire during the reign of Exceron on Bastion numbered far more than what was originally assigned to Sotel.

Those soldiers augmenting the Corps' numbers were Second Gen. The military forces assigned to Kaine's command by Exceron were Third Gen."


"But the term '256th' was still used by Kaine and his officers even if not a standard designation anymore within Exceron's Empire?"


"That is correct. The term was used within the Corps. New assignees were vetted at first by First Gen and later by Second and Third Gen Corpsmen. Those that did not make the cut were culled in a variety of ways. In that way, it was ensured that subsequent generations would be loyal to the Corps values over all else."


"There are news bits about the vessels Kaine had with him when he met with Emperor Hyfe when he retired. There was some speculation, even envy that he had created his own personal military force."


Mr. Dram smiled. "On the surface, there is some truth to that. Those complaints were made by those officers envious of Simon Kaine. To understand the man, to understand what he did and why he did it, you have to understand the world or, rather, the galaxy in which he operated. To rise high and go far in the Empire, one has to do one of three things: Accomplish the extraordinary, ride the coattails of a powerful benefactor, or bring down your peers. Simon Kaine utilized all three during his rise and the rise of the Corps but, even when having reached the top, that nature of the Empire did not vanish. To continue to accomplish his goals, the Supreme Commander needed an infrastructure he could rely on. To carry out his designs without question and without the fear that those he relied on would not act behind his back to unravel his work. The 256th was that backbone."


"I am surprised no one called him on it," Neela murmured and the former Captain grinned.


"Imperial Intelligence almost did. In those first, formative years prior to him taking Imperial Center. He even almost lost his life to a New Republic reprisal attack. When he gambled, he gambled big. It was no small measure to distract Intelligence, your external enemies all the while formulating the advancement of the Empire. But when he took Coruscant, he was untouchable."


"No," Neela disagreed and Mr. Dram's eyebrows went up.


"When he did not crown himself Emperor, he became untouchable," she spelled out and Mr. Dram started to laugh.


"Everyone rose on the coattails of Simon Kaine. Even Regent Hyfe by being crowned Emperor. I remember that day. Schools were let out, celebration was everywhere as if, in one moment, everyone thought all their troubles in the galaxy was put out."


Mr. Dram smiled at her retelling of the memory, "Achieving the extraordinary and being the benefactor allowed him to become a very powerful person. That was when he put the 256th to work. We were trained and molded into being leaders.. Captains, Admirals, Department Heads... the 256th was not just a name of Kaine's fleet. It became the designation of his network and with that network, he guided Imperial Policy."


"So...when Simon Kaine left, he pulled the network as well?"


"He took the 256th with him when he left," Mr. Dram confirmed.


"But you stayed. So, it stands to reason that Kaine may have left others. So are you all part of some network doing things while he is gone?" Neela was starting to weave this complex conspiracy theory from her mind...

Retired Supreme Commander pulling strings from his retirement home.


"I do not really know if there are others that remained. I imagine there could be a few others but I can confirm that there is no network behind me," the former Captain remarked, dashing her headline.


"So why did Kaine ask you to stay?" she blurted out.


"He did not say specifically," admitted Mr. Dram. He sighed, "He said I did more for his cause in my present situation than if I went with him. Then he said that things might get bad for a while."


"So...what? All this trouble the Empire's been having is because of him?"


Mr. Dram chuckled lightly, "Not quite. I do not think that even Kaine could predict the Reaver threat or even the alien attack on Coruscant. The man may be good but he is not omniscient."


"So, do you know where he is?" Neela flat out asked.


"Actually, no. I do not know where he is," the half-man admitted.


"Then what sort of information do you hope to get paid by?" she demanded.


Mr. Dram gave her a curious look, "That the third act of Kaine rising high and going far is being played out right now."


Neela was puzzled and the former Captain could see that.


"Why the bringing down of his peers, of course," he answered matter-of-factly.


Her eyes glanced down at the report she had been reading...


…we have roughly 25 years left of life before our government begins to crumble..

Galactic Proclamation for Force Users

The Galactic Empire hereby declares that its planets, ships, and space stations are now safe havens for force users of any kind, whether they are light, neutral, or dark in affinity of the force, and whether or not at one time they may even have been sworn enemies of the Empire. Any force user, from Jedi to sith, that seeks asylum within the Empire shall be immediately granted it, with any official refusing such to be met with severe and swift punishment. Furthermore, every effort shall be made to rescue force users in dire need of such, even if such acts must occur outside of the Empire's own borders, if so threatened by the Cree'Ar Dominion, with the proclamation lasting until such a time that the Cree'Ar Dominion is no longer considered a valid threat.



Galactic Proclamation for Reavers

The Galactic Empire hereby declares that its planets and space stations may be used by any private, commercial, or man-o-war flying the flag of any Galactic government not at presently open war with the Empire, for the purpose of tending to wounded, repositioning, or repairing such vessels, and in the case of vessels of war, providing munitions or additional weapons to those vessels as needed for the greater good of defeating the threat of the Reavers, until such a time that it can be determined that the Reavers are no longer a valid threat.

Neela and her fellow coworkers at INS listened as the proclamation went out on every available holoserver and network throughout the Empire and beyond.

"So we cozy with the Coalition now?" someone muttered behind her and Neela saw her supervisor frown at the comment.

"You read the Proclamation. We are entering a new era of cooperation against common enemies and our Emperor wishes to be in the forefront of it! If you will not tow the line, you will be cut off and set adrift!"

No one spoke after that as INS commentators came on to discuss the latest rounds of Reaver attacks and gossip on where the mighty alien armada of the Cree'Ar would strike next.

Neela's attention drifted and she moved off to her desk to continue working. Or, at least, she thought she would be able to get some work done until her Supervisor walked over and sat down in the chair she reserved for visitors on the opposite side of her desk

"Neela, what do you think?" the Supervisor asked and Neela had to cringe inside.

That was the million credit question. The Emperor's new Proclamation was a quite a turnaround from previous administration stances that she wondered if the very nature of their New Order would change.

On the plus side, frightened worlds on the verge of rebelling suddenly had their fears ebbed because of this very suprising statement. Whom would they rebel too if even the likes of the Coalition were now welcome inside the Empire's borders, let alone being allowed to step foot onto their planets and taking advantage of their shipyards and supplies.

It was as if the old era of Imperial excellence and domination were giving way to a new era of tolerance and...well, cooperation.

"The Proclamation itself is a nice political move but I think what is on a lot of people's minds is whether or not the Empire will back up the Proclamation with deeds or is it just a political statement."

"I don't see how the Empire could not back that statement. Not after all the holonet time the government is taking in spreading this message."

Neela had to admit the Supervisor had a point.

"I do not know how well this stance will play out with the old Imperial hardliners. I am sure Regent Zell would have blown a fuse."

"Regent Zell is dead. Emperor Kraken has to deal with the reality that is and right now, reality says we cannot fight the Reavers and the Cree'Ar by ourselves."

"You are aware that this Proclamation could be construed as a first step to creating a fundamental ideological shift within the Imperial Government? Within the Empire?"

The Supervisor exhaled loudly, "Well, if Emperor Kraken is going to represent the progressives of the Empire, we would do well to support the current government."

"You will note that the Proclamation gives safe have to both Sith and Jedi forceusers. Cosmic history tells us that no Jedi is safe on the same world as the Sith and vice-versa. How safe will this new haven of the Empire is going to be, I wonder."

"Well, they will just have to find common cause to work together against the greater threat."

"That's just it! If it were so easy, why after all these thousands of years have the Sith and Jedi not found common cause to work together and stop their killing of one another. And the Empire thinks it can end eons of conflict with a Proclamation?"

"The alternative is taking their chances with the Cree'Ar."

"So the success of this new venture will directly tie in with just how successful the Cree'Ar are in carrying out their threats against force-users."

"You still working on that Kaine article?"

Neela was taken aback by the sudden change in topic but nodded.

"What do you hope to prove? What do you hope to find? Kaine?"

Neela shrugged, "Right now I am just investigating. No one else seems to have. Why does a man at the pinnacle of his power suddenly up and leave?"

The Supervisor shifted uncomfortably. "You think he will come back?"

Neela narrowed her eyes, "I have found nothing that would support that conclusion but then again, I have not yet found out where he went to begin with. Maybe my investigation will lead me to a small house on Naboo where his dead body is the food for rodents. Maybe he is living with a tribe of Ewoks. Why? Are you afraid of something if he does come back?"

"I wonder what he would think of these changes."

"Well, he's not here and he lost his chance to voice his concerns when he retired," Neela shot back.

The Supervisor looked as if he was being put in a vice and Neela secretly enjoyed it.

He stood, "Well, if you do find out something important, be sure to let me know."

"Of course," Neela lied.

It was a talent at INS. Actually, it was practically a job requirement.

Then a thought struck her.

Would Simon Kaine lie and if so, what would he lie about?


"Morton, get me the archival footage of press releases made by Simon Kaine."

"It will take a while," the department assistant chimed in over the holonet news.

"I've got time," she murmured.

Vladet


The scene opens in a drinking establishment. A bit cliche-ish, I admit, especially when featuring force users for they seem to present themselves to the world as if carrying the weight of the galaxy on their shoulders. One would, of course, wonder why they do not have much of an impact on it?

Actually, that is not right. Force users do have an impact. It is just that the impact is rather destructive. They will carve through bodies to get at whatever they want to get at but will one build you a house?

No.

"So Sorry.

I have the weight of the galaxy on my shoulders."

Oh, but they will move mountains to get at their respective counterparts to skewer them with the tips of their lightsabers.


But will one feed the poor?


No.

"So Sorry.

Weight of the galaxy and all that."


Anyway, the bar. A male force user sits at it drinking slowly. How much he has consumed is unknown. We do know he's a force user because of the lightsaber attached to his belt and we can even gauge his experience for the saber appears scratched and worn from use.

Of course, the man could have just stolen the saber but that rarely happens. This man is dressed in black his leather boots and gloves squeeking as he shifts on his stool and drinks his drink.

Seated behind the force user at the bar is another man. Not a force user and dressed in dark gray. He is an Imperial and is speaking.


"So let me get this straight: You blame Leia for the death of your mom, not the actual guy that killed her and, as this overwrought kid, you vow revenge. You are all grown up now, a Jedi in fact.."


"Rogue," the man in black interupts but the speaker waves that away.


"Same. Damn. Thing."


The speaker brightens suddenly having found his train of thought again. "So you're a Jedi Master but you want to kill another Jedi Master due to some unresolved mommy issues.

One would think with all this advancement in the ranks, some smart bloke might insist on mental maturity as a criteria for advancement to Jedi Master. I mean, we sort of don't expect it for the Sith but come on, the Jedi shouldn't be following the Sith's example in this."


"They don't," the man in black replied quietly. "I should know. I've been both."


The speaker smirked. "I guess the ranks are interchangeable," he murmured.


"What's your question?" snarled the man in black.


"If Leia was a Jedi Master when your mom died and she is still a Jedi Master now.."


"How can I defeat her?" the man in black asked, smiling.


"How old is she?" the speaker asked instead. "I mean, she just had kids I think.

Is that even possible at her age? I mean, look at you, how old are you? And you think you are immortal too.. but ignoring that, she must be what... Seventy?" I mean, you look like sixty so she must be??.. maybe into her eighties?"


"Shut up.." the man in black sighed turning back to his drink.


"All this time, growing in power and being top dog in your Sith infighting all because you hate the Jedi for what? Not protecting your mother as she was out gathering grapes or something?"


"Do not mock my mother," the man in black growled.


The speaker's eyes suddenly widened, "Wait a minute! All this anger, all this time hating the Jedi and then becoming a Jedi and hating the Sith yet still hating Leia... all those deaths in your quest for power and rise to meet the challenge of some day confronting her... All of this is based on the assumption that your memories of your mother loving you and being this peaceful, wonderful person are actually real and true!"


The speaker felt a tug at the thought and suddenly grasped it like an iron clamp. He stood up and walked quickly over to the man in black at the bar, nursing a drink. "Now there is a trippy thought! You have pretty much sworn off leading a faction, leading armies and commanding millions... ok, ok...hundreds...of soldiers and now roam the galaxy a vagrant, granted one of the most powerful vagrant in terms for force-powers and smells but all of this as a sort of personal pennance for the fallout that smashed countless lives over these mommy issues.."


"You tread dangerously," the man in black warned.


"The unknown is a dangerous place," the speaker quipped back. He fell silent as if in thought and suddenly a finger was raised, "Here's a poser: what if your mom was a spice-addicted whore?"


"What?!" the man in black nearly knocked down his drink as he turned to face the speaker.


"Whoa.. Whoa... wait! Look, typically, when men such as yourself still have some sort of metaphysical umbilical attachment to their dear old mothers, the kind of mothers these messed up kids have is often mirrored by the types of women they end up being attracted too."


"And?" the man in black's hands grabbed the glass tightly.


"The Montague bitch."


The glass was crushed in the man's hand. "She was... beautiful." the force user whispered.


"She was a whore," the speaker shot back as if it were common knowledge. The man in black began to see red.


"Whoa.. Whoa.. wait! I don't mean she could have made a living at it." He stopped for that actually sounded worse. "I mean, it wasn't her day job or anything. But damn, you gotta admit she slept with enough men to fill a starcruiser.."


The pieces of glass from the drink began to burst into dust as the man's fists tightened ever slowly, the leather from his gloves groaning at the pressure.


"I am just sayin, if she was like your mom..."


"She wasn't!" the man in black said through clenched teeth.


"You barely remember your mother!" the speaker shot back, with more force than the man in black expected. "You have been so wrapped up in avenging this image you have in your mind of her and so many people have died to fuel your ambitions, motivated by the rage you have of how this image was ripped from you that you never stopped and asked yourself: Is the image even true?


What if everything you imagine, every memory you have of your mother and what happened to her was a plant?"


"..."


"What if someone implanted that image into you?" the speaker persisted.


"As a child?" the man in black mused darkly, "You are proposing that some Sith Master implanted into a scared little me false memories that would serve as my life's motivation and culminate into bringing down the Jedi?" There was a glimmer of amusement at the convoluted conspiracy theory. He turned back to the bar and ordered another drink.


"Suppose the childhood you remember is not your real childhood? Suppose everything from before the point of the plant is false?"


"You obviously do not understand the nature of the Force," the man in black smirked. "No one could have done that to me while I yet live."


"How little you know people like myself," the speaker returned.


"Irritants?"


"Non-force users. As a powerful Jedi, Sith or whatever you call yourself you have the same inherent dismissal of non-force users that all of your kind have. As if we hold no purpose and could never be of value."


The man in black narrowed his eyes, "The leaders lead, the followers follow."


The speaker shook his head, "Ahnk, Ahnk, Ahnk. If you believed in that force-user superiority crap, why are you looking over that reward for information involving Simon Kaine? He's a non-force user. You've never met him so what do you care where he's retired himself away too?"


"Perhaps I am surprised that the likes of you are not out searching for him like some lost Messiah." the man named Ahnk replied, "Especially since you are getting your asses kicked from one end of the galaxy to the other." At that happy thought, the man in black downed his drink and asked for another.


"The likes of me?" the speaker asked confused.


"Imperials." Ahnk elaborated.


"Are you kidding? For every one Imperial that misses Simon Kaine, there are fifty that don't. Kaine was more heavy handed with Imperials than with those outside the Empire so do not think that we Imperials are crying over his absence."


"Really? I have heard the talk from the population here.. Whispers about the good old days when Kaine was around.." Ahnk's voice was sardonic.


"Those aren't Imperials, Ahnk and you know it. They are merely citizens and that is something the dear old Coalition has never figured out. The masses. The population will do whatever it takes to stay alive. If the Coalition were to conquer this world tomorrow, what changes for the citizen? Their taxes simply go to another place."


"They get representation," Ahnk murmured, his heart not really into such a debate on differing ideologies.


"Yeah, that worked out great for the Old Republic, the New Republic and the Coalition." the Imperial smirked. "What I am talking about is the quintessential "Imperial". The upper management who benefit from the Imperial ideology. Not those that become a stormtrooper to put food on the table but those that actually draw personal benefit and have linked their future to the cause of the Empire. Those Imperials that Simon Kaine controlled with an iron fist. At least those that were not ranked above him. If he were to come back tomorrow, do you think this great Imperial Center that Emperor Kraken is building will remain? Do you think Park Kraken will remain Emperor?"


"What do I care?"


"Given your investigations into the Cree'Ar your facade of disinterest insults you. You know very well if the Cree'Ar steamroll over the Empire, still the largest and most powerful of the galactic factions, it will spell out a certain doom to the other governments."


"And if I say: 'So what?'" Ahnk taunted, continuing to toss his drinks back. He had quite a collection of glasses accumulated.


"Then you are no Jedi, Rogue or otherwise! You are just some man with some powers.

Ultimately your investigations into the Cree'Ar are then pointless." the Imperial offered not without a little contempt.


"Some power?" Ahnk asked, his voice deceptively mild.


"Yes, Ahnk, some power. You wish me to acknowledge how powerful you are when you won't do so yourself?"


"I know I am powerful, Imperial." Ahnk growled.


"If your power hasn't motivated you out of living these past few years in a cloud of guilt, despondency and depression, you might as well not have power. I mean, hell, Who cares if the galaxy is doomed? Right? Certainly not you since you are already living in a doom of your own mind and making. I wouldn't be surprised if these Cree'Ar end up killing Leia for you!" The Imperial waved, "So continue drinking yourself into oblivion pretending you somehow matter to the galaxy at large!"


"Who are you to talk to me so? You think I haven't been acting? I have been training the next generation of Jedi to combat the future!"


"As Zell would say: Are you shitting me? You know exactly who I am to talk to you so! And yes, I can see how helping one Jedi to find his own fucking confidence will really bring about a bright future. You were sick and needed to be healed. The fact that the boy Milagro learned anything was incidental. In fact, I wonder if the boy did not infect you with his disease of not taking any responsibility and running away."


"I am NOT running from anything!"


"Oh don't worry, Ahnk. I am sure Simon Kaine will eventually come back and save everyone. The powerful force users of the galaxy saved by a guy who couldn't levitate a fruit pod."


Ahnk's eyes narrowed, "If Simon Kaine does come back, it will not be to save everyone. The man may have a reputation and even if the masses do love him when the 'Imperials' do not, I am not so blind as to think he will act with altruism in his heart."


"Is that why you have taken this thread of your investigation here? You have leads regarding the Cree'Ar that take you already into the heart of this new Republic, Capricia and it is a much stronger lead than...than this!"


"Now, what are you afraid of, Imperial?" Ahnk remarked. "Do you not want me to find your hero?"


"Hero? That is interesting. Do you know why that is interesting, Ahnk?"


"Shut. Up."


"Perhaps my theory regarding you being planted with a false history of a loving mother cut down before she could instill a few heartwarming lessons to her little boy, Andrew, a history, mind you, that has dominated your actions for the greater part of your life, is not so far-fetched after all?

Perhaps you, on some level, wonder this very thing. Perhaps it is why you have remained paralyzed all these years condescending only to aid some lazy Jedi?"


"Shut. Up!"


"Your own internal war has resulted in, perhaps, a greater sensitivity to certain conditions, like programming, no? Perhaps you begin to see a pattern, however loosely, that Simon Kaine himself was programmed?"


"Shut. Up!!"


"Perhaps your mother really was a whore? The Montague bitch certainly acted the part. Did you know that if you take away the first five letters of her name you get Gue? Any relation to a Michael Gue? You know? That sex droid guy? Maybe they modeled their whore-line after Montague?"


"SHUT UP!!"


"Do not worry, Ahnk. There is hope that your mother wasn't a whore even though you were attracted to Montague."


The Imperial grinned.


"You're attracted to Leia as well.."


"Fuck you."



*


"Excuse me?" inquired a small feminine voice behind the seated Andrew Rashanagok. The large Force-User turned to the voice revealing a skinny female in unremarkably boyish clothes and a loose fitting INS jacket.


"You Neela?" Ahnk asked finishing his last drink. The bartenders were already watering down the drinks. Probably to use the extra profits to upscale their establishments since becoming part of the Palace District of the new Imperial Center. The riffraff probably shooed away with all the stormtrooper presence and the patronage now being government and administrative workers.

Why not?

Everyone's got to make a buck.


"Were you talking to somebody? I saw your lips moving but no sound was coming from them?"


The girl was really annoying and Ahnk had known her for all but two seconds. Small tits, flat ass, slight overbite, boyish hair. The only feminine thing about her were her lips and voice. She wasn't a beauty by any stretch but she also did not look like her face was recovering from acid being thrown at it either. She also hadn't answered his question.


"Are you Neela?" his voice ground out, demanding an answer.


"That depends," the girl replied. "Do you have information for me?"


Ahnk smirked. She had answered his question without directly answering so he might as well answer her's.


"Of course. How much do you pay?" he responded.


"I need to take your scan to make sure you are legit," Neela started, matter-of-factly. She brought out a portable scanner, an older version Ahnk had not seen in quite a while.

"Just put your thumb here.." she practically ordered and, in a fit of amusement, Ahnk decided to play along.


The area around his thumb lit up as the scanner took his thumb print. He drew it away and the screen began to chirp out it's response.














The machine wanted to spill out whole volumes of Imperial charges but sputtered as if choking on something distasteful.

After a few seconds even the one charge that was displayed disappeared to Ahnk's surprise.








"Well, how about that?" Ahnk murmured as the scanner blinked off.


Neela wondered the same thing herself. Standing before her was a Sith Master, she just knew it!


"Mr. Sith Ahnk," she started but the large man raised his hand.


"I am not a Sith anymore. Call me.." he seemed to think about it for a minute. "Call me, Andrew."


I did not know Sith could retire from the club without death being a part of the retirement plan! He must need some money or he wouldn't be here!


Ahnk did not respond outwardly to the confusion and excitement the woman was keeping contained and so waited for her to find her voice. When she did, she was back on target.


"You seem to have held a position where you could have had quite a bit of knowledge on Simon Kaine. Can you tell me something about him? Depending on the quality of information, you should be well compensated." She wondered if she would have to sell her speeder to pay for the information Andrew possessed.


Ahnk, in thinking about his Sith Brotherhood leadership realized that he really did not know anything as Kaine was a peripheral player within the New Order, which was, at the time, a minor remnant. He wondered how history would have turned out had he simply destroyed the New Order when it was still in it's infancy.


"Simon Kaine was an asshole," he volunteered.


Neela sat very still wondering if showing her exasperation in front of this man was wise. He evidently had killed others but seemed ...

Her mind stopped as her eyes finally registered the scars, tattoes and general rancor-build of a man who had seen his fair share of combat and then some.


"Mr. Andrew," she said quietly. "I am not here to fight with you. It is clear that you do not have the information I am looking for. I will leave and forget that I ever saw you if you could..."


"I am not here to give you information about Kaine. I am here for the same reason you are. To learn about Simon Kaine. To see if the information we find out about him will help us in any way against the Cree'Ar or Reavers."


Neela's mouth fell open. "I cannot take on a partner! I barely have enough money to pay for the scraps of information obtained already. I was ready to sell my speeder to pay for your information! How can I afford you?"


The young woman's mind was a swirl of panic and Ahnk brought his two hands together resulting in a loud, large, single clap. Her attention was drawn to him.


"Listen. Money is of no issue to me. I have more than I will ever spend. You, however, have learned much despite that handicap and I sense that if we pool our resources together, we may yet learn much more that will be of profit to both of us. You have ways of obtaining information that I do not have."


Neela seemed skeptical. "I don't know..."


"You have finesse. My interrogation technique involves grabbing someone by the throat and hoping they expel the information I require before they expel their last breath."


"Still not sure.."


"I have a ship," Ahnk offered knowing this would seal the deal.


He could sense that it had with part of her. There was another part that eyed him carefully and he realized that this young woman did seem to have an exceptional capacity at observing things.


"What was going on when I first spoke to you? You were mumbling something to yourself, lost in space. Are you going crazy? I do not want to be stuck on a ship with a mad Sith..er.. former Sith with a lightsaber.." her finger pointed to his belt.




"She's got a point, Ahnk. Who knows what else you are programmed to do by person or persons unknown!"


"I only met you once, Imperial. Why you are a figment of my mind and not others is a mystery to me."


"Not to me," the Imperial replied, "I must obviously represent your exceptional ability to reason."





"I was... having a force vision," Ahnk replied to Neela, waving his arm in a mysterious fashion.


"Uh huh," Neela grunted. "Well, if we are going to be partners, we need to lay down a few ground rules.."


Ahnk folded his arms. This was going to be good.



Story continues in: Threads: Weaving the Past