(This thread will not be finished, and it can be assumed to have never happened)

Regrad sat in his chair at the Coalition Command Tower, looking out at sleeting rain that washed the city of Az. The Military Restoration had advanced to the point where he was no longer needed, new ships were to be found throughout the galaxy and new leaders had emerged to train the next generation of Coalition soldiers. Their boarders were more secure, their bonds were strengthened, and yet Regrad felt a shiver of fear, knowing this was not enough.

The enemy lies out there. he thought And no amount of training or preparation can dislodge them in the end.

Regrad had felt a recommitment to peace after the failure of the second war, and yet, he knew what had to be done. The Coalition would never really coexist with the New Order, at least, not for long. With Hyfe ascending the Imperial throne and the Jedi Corps replacing the symbol of unrestrained justice and freedom in the people's hearts, the noose was tightening over the principles he had championed, replaced only by their shadow following new and terrible masters. The weight of the years grew heavy on his shoulders, as he turned from the window to look at the holo-map on his desk. He was a guardian of dying ideals, a paragon of forgotten virtues, raging against the dying of the light.

No. He thought The light is not quite dying yet. It still survives, despite all of the Empire's efforts to crush it.

Regrad banished the thoughts of despair from his mind, and replaced them with focus. In front of him, the map hummed to life, and the galaxy lay out before him.

It was as he poured over the minute details of galactic politics that Viryn Quell appeared, by hologram, at one end of the table. "Early, am I?" he grumbled. Regrad looked up.

"No, you're right on time." he said, as other holograms came into focus. Yolem appeared, as did the ministers and commanders of the Coalition.

"It is good to see you could all make it. An important announcement must be made. When I returned here from Leritor, I discovered that Ferguson - our respected head of the CIB - has some information for us. Ferguson, if you will?"

Ferguson's hologram rose, and nodded to those assembled. "Well, we've been restructuring our intelligence forces, and have recently prepared our first wave of teams for international emergencies. As you may or may not know, X-team has been carrying the brunt of the workload lately, and their operations against our terrorist suspect has left them drained. Luckily, we recieved word of their success near Pavo Prime, escaping without loss, and can now move into the final phase of the operation."

"About fucking time." said Viryn "It's been like, what, a year since Brutus started attacking people, and NOW you get around to stopping him?"

Ferguson shot him a look "It's been harder then expected. The important thing is, at the next opportunity, we will finally be able to make our move and eliminate this threat. However, I have quite a lot of teams ready, and I understand Regrad has a mission dossier picked out he wants us to perform."

Regrad nodded, and held up a file folder. "I assume you are all aware of the fact that the CIB has been gearing up to begin operations. A part of that is, of course, creating some operations for them to begin. We can all agree that the Empire is our main threat, and especially in terms of intelligence, we are outmatched.

"That means that we need to start fighting back - not with ships, of course, they'd notice. The CIB is our best chance to weaken the Empire and bring it down from within, which is why I believe the 'Operation: Taste of Freedom' dossier should be enacted."

There was a ripple of surprise amongst the holographic group of leaders, and Ferguson voiced it. "Sir, that is rather an... involved mission dossier. I understand you would favour it, but then again - "

"It's got some balls on it, at least." said Viryn. "I say we get started."

Ferguson sighed. "Well, I guess if we're going to start fighting back, we may as well start big. That operation is fairly vague, however, how do you want us to start?"

"Just like this..." said Regrad. And then he told them.

***

One Week Later

Agent Red - or, as he was known as right now, Jared Offel - sat at what would be a regular cafe that could have existed anywhere on Corellia, if not for the fact that this particular one was across the Imperial Intelligence headquarters for the planet.

Of course, the Empire wasn't so foolish as to advertise thusly. There was an Imperial Intelligence Bureau office in a city further west, but that was all pretty much for show. The real files, computers, agents, and such operated in very Imperial fashion - hidden in a warehouse that advertised fresh fish.

'Jared' did not sit at this cafe for nothing. He was here to meet a contact. A lot of people on Corellia could remember being free. It was well within the lifetime of most citizens of the planet that they had lived under the New Republic, and known again the liberty of their forefathers. The Empire had gone to extremes to bury that memory, alter it, and stamp it out. In fact, that memory was perhaps more of a threat to the Empire then all the battleships the rest of the galaxy could put together.

One man with such memories was Imperial Intelligence agent Jorrel Koffman, who even now walked by the table. The two men didn't look at each other, didn't act in any way different. The only way things changed in the time it took Jorrel to pass was the slightest movement of Jared's foot. It would be another patient hour before Jared would deign to lean down and pick up the scrap of paper he had pinned under his shoe, the one that had fallen out of a compartment on Jorrel's shoe when he'd passed and squeezed the trigger for it.

Even then, he was careful - the pick-up was concealed by dropping a napkin. He paid for his meal, and left. Once he was several blocks away and encloistered in his apartment - facing away from the windows, of course - he read it.

South Pier, 12:15 pm. Blue 42.

It was a room with no windows, on a meeting that kept no minutes, with people who would deny the event's very existence.

It was a section meeting between Isard's minions as her eyes went from person to person gauging their response.

Those in attendance did not, by far, equal the sum of Imperial Intelligence's rosters. No, this was a special meeting of those who carried black level ratings and New Order clearance. An elite within the elite.

It was here that the whole of Imperial Intelligence's use of power, position and monetary wealth be determined for the next cycle.

And it was here that plans and concerns were brought up.

"Our friends, the Coalition are up to their old tricks again." spoke the aging Isard, her miscolored eyes narrowing at the others. These were her most gifted students and even they did not know each other, each on disguised as they were.

Compartmentalization had been key. Fragmentation of information, the only true way to keep the enemy from perceiving your next move.


Parion, Aquion, Vero, Bastion, Iro, Nero, Letor, Xavior, Querion, and, of course, the ever gifted Ciscero.

Each designation meaningless beyond a point of identification. The designations not listed on any database, their true identities (in most cases) unknown at all.


"You refer to the CIB?" someone responded. "A novice organization."

"But not unworthy of our notice." another included. "Everyone starts somewhere and their public budget is quite impressive."

"We can assume, that their budget is quite larger than what they publicly display."

"As long as High Lord Regrad remains their Prime Minister, we can expect their organization to remain quite predictable. He was leader of their fleets and sent them against us, and now he is leader of their political structure, what do you think he will do with the weapons of their Department of State?"

"Stop being elementary. Of course they will send agents. It is the natural order of governments. Everyone has agents. What matters is their effectiveness or lack thereof."

"What helps is the overall state of the Empire. There is little dissention and even those who rallied against us in the beginning are falling silent."

"Due to our internal measures?"

"In part. But quite frankly, due to our success as a government. It is pretty clear that no single government is able to destroy us as what was once thought.

It is our economic success, our general stability and constant vigilance that persuade insurrectionist to abandon their mad plots."

"You cannot squash an ideal like liberty.."

"Liberty does not put food on the table."

Ciscero laughed at this. "I must concur. Any possible recruits know that to pass on information to the enemy is treason. And we know how treason is punished.

So the double agent recruit must ask themselves, 'to what end do I place myself and my family in danger?'"

"The Coalition is not going to start a war with us of liberation. They have neither the means nor the desire."

"Well, they may have the desire.."

"Granted, but from a practical standpoint, a war would devestate their economy. Quite frankly, we would topple them and I do not think our military will agree to a cease-fire this time. It would be an all out fight to the end.

We've been on war footing for quite a while and our expansion programs have slowed considerably since the war. While they've been rebuildilng, we've been considating and fortifying....

There is no wonderful change in government coming. There is no return to possible recruits."


Isard had let the conversation go around the room as she sat back and watched how each of their minds worked. After the last statement she cleared her throat drawing all eyes to her.

"Correction. There is no large return. But there are small returns they may expect. And I believe that Regrad would be comfortable with those small returns to justify espionage against us.

So we must prepare to go to war. A silent, cold war to be sure but war just the same.

The Coalition has grown arrogant in the time we've not harrassed them. It is time to teach them the folly of their ways.

It is time to bring the war to them, perhaps in a personal way." She turned to Ciscero and the agent nodded.

"Regrad's family." It was not a question.


Isard sighed. "I never thought I'd say this. But I do miss the Black Hand."

A slight chuckle went around the room and as Ciscero laughed along with them his mind raced. The Jedi Corps were being set up on every world and it was only a matter of time before the twins are found.

They may not hold Sith powers exactly but if their charter is any indication, they would become a house-hold name very very soon and no place remain safe from their prying eyes.

Prying minds!

"It is time to step up to war footing, because, quite frankly, if their intelligence network screws up, our leaders will be calling for war. If that happens, we need to be ready."


Ciscero thought the idea had merit. But already, some dismissed the new CIB as ineffective and would act to clean up the damage they cause with war.

But another thought also nagged at the experienced agent. Just because an organization is untried, does not mean it won't be effective.

He thought about the Corps and realized his thought had more truth to it than he cared to admit.



Still there was a big difference in knowing the CIB would eventually strike and knowing where.

And sometimes, it was that difference that could make or break governments.

Jorrel placed the finished copy of the files on Known and Suspected Rebels, Dissidents, and Internal Threats into his personal datapad, and made one last search for anything out of the ordinary. No one would notice, after all, he had access to this file when on assignment.

His last assignment, he recalled.

"Jorrel, leaving already?" said Agent Kent. Jorrel secretly despised Kent, he was the perfectly mindless Imperial drone, but once again he managed to hide this thought.

"Well, you know how rarely we get leave these days. It might be our last chance in a while, if the Coalition reports are true. Anyways, I won't be gone long, just a week with my family touring Coruscant."

"The big city, huh?" said Kent, laughing. "Well, tell us what it's like. If you see the Emperor, don't forget to take a picture for us to put on the fridge."

"Yes, it can go along with all of your other pictures of him." is what he said, but "You son of a bitch, you know what he wants us to do and you still worship him like a god." was what Jorrel was thinking. He put the datapad in his briefcase, and stepped out on to the street.

He was happy to meet with his family, and using every scrap of his training, managed to keep perfect composure as they got into the family's old ship - it had cost a bundle when he was a young man, but he'd kept it dilligently in repair all these years, and now it would help serve as his cover. His old wife, his two sons, their wives and three grandchildren all managed to fit aboard.

"Ok, we're off." he said, to a little cheer by the children. "Next stop Coruscant." He was lying, which he hated to do, but he had no choice - the Empire was always listening.

The trip was uneventful, and Jorrel kept it that way. The only difference between this trip and all the others to coruscant was the slightest mistake in his inputting of the flight path. But he didn't let on to it. All the while, he kept silent about his plan. He had to.

Finally, suddenly, they were yanked from hyperspace.

"What was that?" shouted Greg, his younger son. "Dad, we can't be there already? What's going on?"

The proximity alarm went off, Jorrel tried to keep calm even though he knew what was going on.

"Dear, do something!" shouted Jorrel's wife, Luna "Is that a - wait, no - yes, it's an asteroid, Jorrel, move!"

Just before the screaming began, as what appeared to be an asteroid came barreling towards them, an Ion wash engulfed their ship, which immeadietly went quiet. The asteroid vanished, as insubstantially as a hologram, and in it's place was a New Coalition vessel. Jorrel's family looked with mixed anxiety and confusion, as he stood up.

"Don't worry" he said "We'll be fine." and with that, he walked to the hatch of the ship, which opened. A unit of New Coalition troops - in unoffensive and open-faced uniforms - politely advanced and allowed them space to pass. In silence, the family entered the ship.

Jorrel knew it'd be hard to explain to them. They'd be angry with him at first, maybe. Then again, maybe not. But in the end, he knew in his gut, it just wasn't safe raising his family in the Empire. In the end, he feared what his grandchildren, and their children, would become there, without him.

Ferguson himself patted the old man on the shoulder as he came aboard. "Don't worry, we'll look after you. Once they were aboard, he nodded to the captain of the ship, who moved away, and with that hurled an asteroide from a field nearby, a field within a gravity well that had brought them out on the way to Coruscant, into the family's old ship. It crunched and shattered, spreading throughout the region, and leaving no question as to what happened.

"Let's get out of here." said Ferguson. The captain nodded, and Jorrel passed Ferguson the datapad, which he began to go over. It was all there.

(This thread will not be competed, and if possible, will not have happened, as it is not consistant with my new stances towards doing threads with other groups.

Sorry for the inconvenience.)