Coruscant

Tilaric Brel walked quietly down the corridor, his footfalls making no more noise than was absolutely necessary. A low profile was best, in circumstances like these; low, but not too low. If he actually looked as if he was sneaking around, there would be trouble, no doubt. He ducked into one of the many offices which lined the hallway, continuing to look inconspicuous. Years of intelligence training, within the Imperial guard, within Imperial Intelligence, even within the ranks of a returned Grand Admiral Thrawn during his assault on Ossus and the rebellion, had honed his skills to an unprecidented art.

The glowing holoterminal in front of him began to cast a pale light about the dark room as Tilaric waved his hand at it, activating the archaic systems within. This terminal hadn't been used for years; its older technology would allow him to send a communique as he desired without going through typical Imperial channels.

<font size="1">//activate

//Welcome to Imperial Holoterminal #10x11x.
//Please enter your credentials.

//Name: Tilaric Brel
//Access Code: ************

--Verifying. . . . . .--
//Complete.

//recieve messages

//1 New Message. View?
//yes

--Accessing. . . . . .--</font>

The message scrolled forth across the holoprojection, text only, just as was arranged. Tilaric nodded and smiled knowingly as he read it, chuckling at one point. He allowed himself the weakness of some enjoyment of this process; with his victory so near, there was no danger of reprisal. He'd been told that life was a journey, not a destination; why not enjoy the ride? He laughed again, and entered a request to reply to the message.

<font size=1">//To: :/quasar1.holonet#12y345
//Subject: None

//Text: Xizen;

Do not worry, my friend. You will have your vengeance for the wrongs done to you, and you will, too, avenge the death of your fallen master. All is in place, just as we had planned it. The shuttle will dock on your world at 0600 tomorrow; be at Central Xizor Port.

All that is needed now is the readiness of the Black Quasar, and our plan is guaranteed success. However, I am fully confident in your ability to complete this mission. You once served the Empire; only the best serve the Empire, and despite your current low opinion of them, you know this.

Were he alive, Lord Vader would be most pleased with you.

-T</font>

Falleen

Gerren Xizen found it very difficult to appear as if he was merely going about his business, as he approached the loading gate of the FA-102 transport vessel which would take him to Coruscant. A palpable excitement coursed through his veins, an indefinite feeling of approach; approach upon the revenge he'd sought for so long.

As a member of the Falleen race, he'd always been taught what was thought to be the elemental truth about Darth Vader; that he was the villain who wiped out an entire city in cold blood, murdering many members of the royal Falleen bloodline.

He could remember his first meeting with the dark Tilaric Brel.


The man -- if that's what he was -- was dressed entirely in the red armor of a traditional Imperial Royal Guard, the uniform fitting him snugly. He wore it like a second skin, comfortable despite its encumbrance, grace apparent even in the simple act of walking.

"I understand what you have been taught, Mr. Xizen." Brel had said to him. "But what proof do you, yourself, have? What evidence? Naught but the speculation of fools who wish someone to blame. Do they know Darth Vader like you did? Do they know his brilliance? How could a man -- a being, for he was more than man, of his calliber, commit such an act?"

"I don't know," Xizen replied evenly. "But you offer little more than they. You ask me to discount their assumptions and speculation, but that is all you offer to me."

A short sigh was emitted from the sound projector within the royal guard uniform, and a red-gloved hand darted into his cloak. A moment later, it withdrew, an object clutched within its fierce grasp. Xizen gasped, because he knew what it was. "My god..."

"This is what I offer you." He said. "For I, too, knew Vader, knew his true intentions. He sought to save your city, when that biological agent got loose, not destroy it. But the Emperor, the Empire, they are creatures of evil, of hate and hell. They acted without mercy!"

"Yes..." Xizen said. "But what can I do? I am but one Falleen."

"Regather all of the surviving scientists. Show them what I have shown you, make them understand that Darth Vader is not the rightful recipient of your ire, but the Empire -- and that, with my help, you might be delivered to the revenge you seek."

"How will acquire our... revenge?" Xizen asked, speaking the word as if it was the name of an ancient monolith or savior, a great and sacred thing which was so glorious as to barely be described in speech. "A group of scientists against an Empire!?"

"I trust you have not forgotten the formulae for the bacteria?" Tilaric asked him, knowing the answer.

"How could I?" Xizen took a breath. "That is it, then? Unleash upon them the very thing which sealed our own fate?"

"Yes. I will provide you the means to do so, to avoid detection in your task, and all you must do is provide the specimen." The Imperial guard stood, signaling that the meeting was thoroughly over.

"We will do more than that. We will improve upon it; the agent that will strike down the Empire which struck down my colleagues will be... unstoppable." The Falleen smiled. "The irony."

Tilaric Brel nodded. "Indeed. I will contact you." He slammed down the object within his grasp upon the table.

There lay Darth Vader's lightsaber.



And from that dark meeting, the Black Quasar had been born. They met only in the most secret of locations, in dark alleys and the basements of abandoned warehouses. Together with seven other Falleen, Gerren Xizen had engineered a new biological agent, and concocted an equally dangerous plan with the assisstance of Brel.

Now, as he boarded the craft, he met each of them on it. Xillep, Kwen, Siinara, Valal, Wehntai, Hiveth, and Del all stood up from their seats and greeted him in turn with the greeting they'd made the callsign of the Black Quasar: "Vs'aqil Tanturn", which in Falleen meant "Past Returned".

"It is good to see you, my friend," Xillep said, taking his seat once more, and Xizen doing the same. The craft was small, no more than an Imperial shuttle with an extended passenger hull, but it was one Brel had organized specifically -- one which would be allowed to bipass Imperial security scans, that they might deliver their precious cargo to Imperial Centre unmolested.

"And you, Xillep. All of you." He nodded to them. "You all know your missions, I am sure." They certainly had gone over them repeatedly. "Once this agent is released into the target area, we will have only one hour to escape the world before the infectious agent begins to spread too rapidly to be avoided."

"Yes," Siinara, one of the two females, said. "We know. And we will all succeed."

"Vs'aqil Tanturn," The others replied in agreement.

"Today," Xizen said, "Is a great day for the Black Quasar, for all Falleen. Today is the day that the Wrath virus wipes clean the slate of the galaxy, and gives rise to an Empire free from the evil which killed our bretheren."

Coruscant

Tilaric Brel stood alone in his quarters. He wore his Imperial Royal Guard armor, something he'd put away for months. It reminded him of a past he'd come to hate; the truth of his existence, the reality of his being. His identity as a clone. It had driven him away from the Empire once, but the past of an Imperial guard was not one easily escaped.

They'd come, swiftly and without mercy, to Fondor. They'd crushed him, crushed his forces, crushed what he'd worked so long and hard to create. He'd drifted for years after the battle of Fondor, falling eventually into the service of Grand Admiral Thrawn in his quest to destroy the New Republic and Rogue Jedi Order. He'd learned the arts of the intelligence game, battling Kasien Treseda on Hapes. He'd beaten Treseda, but Thrawn's invaison had failed.

Finally, he'd been drawn back into Imperial service. Imperial Intelligence had welcomed him back.

And now, he would betray them. No, not betray. He'd never been loyal. He would repay them. Repay them for his suffering, for his years of pain. For his very creation. They had played god, created perfect soldiers as guards. Now, he would play god. He was holding every key.

His final plan was finally coming to pass. Tilaric put on his helmet, locking it into place. Within his grasp was a single vial; the cure for the Wrath virus.

This was for the Freedom Guard.

Within minutes, he'd left the planet on his personal vessel.

<hr>

<hr>
Muunilinst System

"Is it as bad as the reports?" Gosef Mien asked, shutting off the holoprojector.

"Worse, I'm afraid. Much worse." Vice-Admiral Vikar replied. "I received a holonet message from the Regent two days ago, informing me that I was to say exactly those words." He sighed. "In truth, our forces are crumbling. We cannot dock to receive supplies, or we'll be infected. Everyone is running on half rations. Some ships have already run out of fuel. We lost Outpost 6512 yesterday. We'll lose more today."

"Lost it?" Mien asked. "You mean, rebels took it?"

"Utterly. They devastated our forces, tore them apart. They're gaining a foothold in other sectors, too. The quarantine means that it's almost exclusively us that are suffering ill effects. If it was a uniform plague across every planet in the galaxy, there would be no problem. But we're limping, now, and everyone else is jumping all over us."

"I see." Mien looked at the desk blankly. "What can we do?"

"Nothing. There's absolutely nothing we can do to solve this problem. We just have to wait it out. It'll take years for the rebels to reclaim their lost territory, during which we will certainly find a cure. But..."

"...in the meantime, we're screwed."

"Yes."

Somewhere in the Imperial Sector

Tilaric Brel sat silently, staring at the damage report. It was rather impressive; and, given that his personal operations vessel, the Dreadnaught Quintessential, was several hours outside of holonet contact with the Empire, this was only the beginning. Five million on Coruscant, twelve million offworld. The effects were devastating.

He smiled still as Gerren Xizen entered the office, sitting down without speaking a word, nodding his greeting to Brel.

"Greetings, my friend." Brel said. "I bring you in here only to congratulate you, and to inform you that all goes exactly as planned."

"The Wrath virus has been effective?" Gerren asked.

"More than I ever could have hoped. You and your team have engineered the most contagious strain that any Imperial scientist has ever come across, according to this report. They'll never get a cure in time."

Gerren furrowed his brow. "You think that Wrath will wipe out everyone one Coruscant?"

"No. Where did you get the idea that I was suggesting that?"

"You said, 'In time'. In time to stop what?" Gerren got the distinct feeling that there was something he was not being told. For the first time in his dealings with Agent Brel, he felt uneasy, unsure about the character of his associate.

"In time to stop phase two of this plan."

"Phase two?"

"I'm sure I've told you all this, Gerren." Tilaric said, though his tone made it sound like this was all play-acting.

Gerren was beginning to feel quite uneasy. "No, I'm sure you haven't."

"Phase two of the plan. I will present the cure to the Empire, and implicate Imperial Command as the planters of the virus. We will be free to claim total control of the Empire; worlds will flock to us, seeking the cure, and fleets with them."

Gerren's frown deepened. "You never told me any of this. I'm sure of it. I was told that I was to manufacture a virus for the purpose of retribution on the Empire for what they did to us."

"And this is all part of that, my friend." Tilaric said, in a soothing, assuring voice. "At last, the followers of Vader will return to command of the Empire, that no such tragedy will ever occur to a world like your own again."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" The Falleen got the distinct feeling that he was being fucked with. Why had this been a secret? If this was all part of the plan for revenge, what reason had he to hide it?

"I did."

Gerren Xizen said nothing in reply. He just stared at Tilaric. After a moment of tense silence, the agent got up as if nothing had happened, smiling again. "Well, I have an address to make, my friend. You'll want to watch. This will be a great moment for all those who still follow Vader, and for all of Falleen."

A great moment for Falleen, or for you, Mr Brel?

<hr>

<hr>

Outpost 6512

Gash Jiren sat silently onboard the Sovereign-Class Star Destroyer aptly and derivitively named Sovereign, in orbit around the recently-captured Outpost 6512. He was steepling his hands in contemplation. The door to the office opened, and Kasien Treseda, as well as several other Republican officers -- including a Chiss operative sent directly from Xylon Hexyra -- flooded into the room.

"Have you seen this?" Treseda asked, throwing a datapad down on Gash's desk haphazardly, looking frantic. The others in the room looked dazed, too.

"Is this a report on the reactions to Brel's little speech?"

"Yes."

"Then, yes, I have." Gash looked up at the man, tilting his head, slightly. "I read it very carefully, as a matter of fact."

"It's obvious, what this is." Kasien said. "Obvious. Brel hasn't gotten over FGC -- he's just been laying low, all this time. So well, in fact, that the Empire believed him. And now he's randsoming them. And they're flocking to him -- a hundred worlds, thousands of ships. All under his command, in return for a cure."

"Do you think Brel planted the virus?" Gash asked, calmly.

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"No," Gash assented, nodding. "No, it doesn't. This isn't a very pleasing development, is it? There's a divide, within the Empire -- a divide which places us in a morally undesirable position."

"No shit. Hyfe won't join Brel -- not a chance in hell, you and I both know that. Which means more people are going to die on Coruscant. And this will continue; for every world which sticks to the Regent, another will jump at the chance for a cure. The Empire will be split in two. Which means a civil war, and disaster, and mass suffering. Brel will tear the galaxy apart."

"I have thought of all of this, Kasien," Gash said, annoyance edging into his tone. "Do you have any solutions?"

"None."

After a few more minutes of discussion, the men left the room, thoroughly without answers. Gash continued to stare at his desk, and the holoterminal on it. He turned it on, then off. Then on, then off again. He couldn't decide.

In the end, he began typing. A text message was the only sort that they could encrypt strongly enough.

<font size="1">//activate

//Welcome. Please enter your name/password.

//Name: GashJ
//Password: **********

* Verifying . . . . . *

//Complete.
//Welcome, Sovereign-Elect Jiren. Please enter your command.

//send message.

//To: :/regentx1xxx2.holonet#145y25 [channel encrypt attached]
//Subject: Brel

//Text: Regent;

I trust you continue to know who I am. I certainly would hope you haven't forgotten, after our little spat at Etti IV. I hear your newly-installed governer is doing his job on that world well.

One year ago, I never would have written this message. But the Wrath virus has progressed too rapidly, and these new developments call for action. By now, I would assume you have heard the reactions to the speech broadcasted by your own Agent Tilaric Brel. The truth of Brel's speech is irrelevant, as is your or anyone's guilt, innocence, or complacence in this matter. I honestly do not care. However, you are losing worlds rapidly to this upstart warlord of your's; hundreds, new ones every hour.

Brel will fight you, you and I both know this. Where and when, we cannot be certain. But it will happen, and it will be devastating -- and he may win. Regardless, such a conflict would ravage whole worlds, devastate thousands. I know that you will never join him, and this, of itself, means that more will die of the Wrath virus.

I cannot, in good conscience, allow this to happen.

I did, intentionally or not, collaborate with your Grand Marshall Kaine during Thrawn's invasion of my territory. That unity of Republic and Empire succeeded. As before, I do not ask for your moral blessing, your friendship, your alleigance, or even your respect. But in the event of a war between Brel and yourself, no one stands to benefit but Brel. Each second which passes lends more power to him. I have spoken to Xylon Hexyra. He concurs.

I hear he has recently taken Bastion, or coersced it into co-operation. Perhaps we can take the fight there.

-Gash Jiren</font>

One Month Later - Bastion System

The officer was calm but alert; active, ready. He was prepared to do his duty in whatever ways were necessary. He was the perfect Imperial officer; well trained, experienced -- but not burnt-out -- and young. And there were a billion more like him, all under Tilaric Brel's control.

"These are the latest figures?" Brel asked, glancing up at him as the datapad was placed in front of him.

"Yes, sir." The officer responded. "Compiled by the most up to date databases."

Coruscant Death Toll: 1.2 Billion
Off-Coruscant Death Toll: 8.3 Billion

Worlds Under New Imperial Control: 396

"Excellent." Brel said. "Quite excellent. I expect that the new vessels are arriving in the Bastion system today?"

"As soon as possible, sir. They are reportedly prepared for the inaugeration. And, a small detachment stopped off at Falleen to escort the Black Quasar scientists here. They should arrive a few hours afterward, as per the schedule on that datapad."

"A question, sir."

"Go ahead."

"What do you plan on doing once you declare yourself Emperor, sir?" He asked plainly.

"I plan to crush the Empire, officer. To make them mine."

The officer nodded, saying nothing in reply, and Tilaric thought a moment. "What fleet group were you with, officer?"

"The Talon IV Taskforce, sir. Stationed -- formerly -- on Dantooine. We were stranded out in the space between Dantooine and Bastion, taking shelter in abandoned systems, before we joined you."

"Hmm." Brel nodded. "And what are your thoughts on joining the New Empire, officer?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Permission to speak freely granted. Be honest, please."

"It is a necessary action, brought about by the Wrath virus. Whether I am loyal to you, or the Empire, is really of very little concern to me. I signed on to serve and protect the civilized galaxy; if the New Empire is the way of the future, so be it, I am your's."

Brel nodded, standing up. With one swift, almost soundless motion, he brought his force pike out from behind his desk -- where it had been hidden, unseen -- unsheathed the hinge with the press of a button, and used one of the blades to swiftly part the officer's top half from his bottom in a diagonal line.

"We don't need Imperial loyalists, thank you, officer." He pressed the communications button on his desk. "Someone get in here, and clean this mess up. I have an inaugeration to attend."

Today would be a great day.

For the Freedom Guard. For the New Empire.

One of many great days, and one of many yet to come.

<hr>

<hr>