"All ships are in position and holding M'lord."
Graal Kraxton's head dipped the slightest fraction, the movement acknowledging the subordinate's statement and dismissing him at the same time. The officer backpedaled slowly, his head slightly lowered as a sign of respect, as he made his way down the small incline that separated his master's command deck from the rest of the Santillity's bridge.
The movement was indicative of everything in Kraxton's horde, from its induction rituals to its order of battle.
In his small corner of space, in that miserable, unimportant, god-forsaken corner of the galaxy, Graal Kraxton was everything.
Everything.
Tribute was paid.
Recruits were sent.
Leaders, regardless of status or political persuasion, cowered at his mere mention.
Planets bowed to his whim or suffered unimaginable punishment.
Obedience was secured.
By brute force sometimes, though the Tarkin Doctrine (although it was not called this, or even actively pursued as such... it just happened to work out that way) helped reduce the number of such incidents.
On occasion, someone arose with the idea that they could challenge him, someone arose who believed that if they defied him that he would back down.
Like he was some sort of schoolyard bully.
Other times (though with much less frequency than one might imagine) someone with slightly more intelligence attempted to resist with force.
The result was the same either way.
Not that it was all bad.
The relationship between Graal Kraxton and the planets he "protected" was something of a symbiotic one. In fact, like many demons and vampires of mythology and fable Graal Kraxton only got involved if asked.
In his corner of space (a swath of territory that encompassed parts of Hutt Space and the surrounding Outer Rim) the politics of the great powers might as well have been in another universe.
The Black Dragon Empire had defined its border and stopped its expansion. The Empire didn't give a shit about resourceless Rim Worlds, and the Galactic Coalition was too busy getting its ass-kicked by just about everyone to help out. The Commonwealth was too far away, and the League of Nations, for all its progressive mottos and egalitarian principles was little more than a club for rich Core Worlds.
Which left Kraxton.
And while the politics of the galaxy at large may have been far from the minds of these people, politics of there own was not.
And so when one planet got fed up over perceived slights and picked a fight with another, or two worlds decided to duke it out over mineral rich asteroid belt, or someone figured out how to export some exotic material and make a few credits but got threatened by their jealous neighbors they looked to one man to provide the muscle that they themselves lacked.
And Graal Kraxton answered.
He pounded your enemies into submission, fended off that rouge mercenary gang, and protected your convoys from privateering. He did what he said he'd do.
But when the threat was over, and the crisis was averted, one would discover that Graal Kraxton didn't just pack up and leave. No, since you invited him in, he decided to make himself comfortable.
You didn't understand the threat. It was lurking there, just around the corner, and you need him. The galaxy remains a dangerous place. He was looking out for your own good.
The catch of course, was that protection is expensive.
Even when he (and the Horde) wasn't physically there were protecting you- the deterrent factor people knew what would happen if they touched a planet under his protection- he was protecting you, so you still had to pay.
Payment, of course, comes in many forms... and terms are often renegotiated without your consent or knowledge, but as long as you decided to pay everything would turn out all right.
It was when you chose not to pay that you would regret ever asking for help in the first place.
Graal Kraxton had no pretensions about whom he was. Unlike some, who put in his position might have proclaimed themselves to be some sort of living deity or ruler with a manifest destiny, he made no outlandish statements, grandiose proclamations or babbling tirades.
He wasn't building up an armada to invade the rest of the galaxy, nor planning some sort of radical genocide that might draw the attention of the greater powers. Not that he feared them, of course, or respected their authority; rather he lacked the ambition that drove most tyrannical maniacs to launch those ludicrous crusades.
He was content lording over the worlds that fell into his influence, and crushing those who dared defy his will.
He especially enjoyed the latter.
As such, he had a feeling that his newest assignment was going to be very pleasurable.
So Graal Kraxton barked an order, his deep, booming voice carrying easily across the length and breathe of the Santillity's cavernous bridge.
"Launch the Horde."
And as his words reverberated of the ceiling and bulkheads the Santillity and the mass of vessels arrayed around it jumped to lightspeed...
Echtabahn System
Kraxton's Horde exited hyperspace in the formation they had entered it, which placed the Santillity, the armada's most powerful vessel, and the symbol of its might slightly ahead of the other vessels.
This was a symbolic move, a signal to both the planet the Horde was targeting and the body of the Horde that Graal Kraxton was leading the charge, and that he was unafraid of the inevitable conflict.
Of course, there was a line between bravery and stupidity.
The Santillity was certainly an impressive vessel, at nearly 3500 meters long she was twice the size of the common Imperial ships of the line, and commanded an impressive array of weaponry. Following a retro-fit financed by the Union she boasted 150 heavy turbolasers of the highest quality (an upgrade over her original compliment of 132) and 75 ion cannons (up from 58). Gone were her finicky sensors and outdated shield projectors. A fresh coat of paint covered her re-touched and repaired, reinforced hull. Of critical systems, only the engines were original, as even the Union had been unable to find replacements large enough and of the correct style to fit the mobile fortress.
The Santillity might not win many races, but she certainly packed a wallop.
For the most part however, the rest of Kraxton's fleet was less impressive.
The armada was constantly fluctuating beast, due both to the nature by which Kraxton obtained his warships, and by the tactics he often employed while in combat. The size and exact make-up of the armada eluded even Graal himself, though he kept himself fairly well apprised of what ships he had at his disposal. Needless to say it was an eclectic mix.
Slightly behind the Santillity, on the mighty Bulwark's flanks, were the two most recent additions to the Horde, courtesy of the Union, a gift for services recently rendered. Four long, unique looking vessels, with the exterior appearances of a freighter. Docile as they might seem, they were actually most powerful vessels besides the Santillity and together with their deadly Star Viper contingents rivaled Kraxton's flagship for the most firepower in the Horde. They were the Vendetta class Battlecruisers Armegadon and Salicious; the only two ships of their type employed by someone other than Black Sun.
Ancient and of dubious value, around two dozen Neutron Star Class Bulk Cruisers made their home among the Horde and served as the dumping ground for the newest and greenest "recruits." Survive a tour on a Neutron Star and you might make your way onto one of the dozen or so Core Galaxy System Dreadnoughts that had at one time served as the backbone of Kraxton's navy. Survive enough battles on one of those old warhorses, and you could transfer to one of the "Lethal Eleven" as the Horde's Assault Frigate contingent was known. Though they had long ago been discarded as front-line war ships by the galaxy's major militaries, the modified Dreadnaughts were still capable vessels.
Of course, no navy is comprised totally of frigates and medium cruisers, smaller craft are needed as well. Pickets, scouts, and anti-fighter vessels are necessary cogs in even the most rag-tag naval conglomeration. A host of converted freighters made up the bulk Kraxton's force, and at the very least could act as "meat shields" to protect larger, more important vessels from incoming fire. Scouts who survived long enough might find a berth on the smattering of Corellian gunships, or even one of the Horde's five carrack cruisers.
There was no less diversity among the armada's snubfighters. The majority of Horde pilots flew uglies, the cobbled together mutant craft forged out of the discarded pieces of the galaxies most common snub-fighters. Others flew hornet interceptors or cloakshape fighters, the ubiquitous fringer/pirate models that were cheap and lethal (though often to the pilots themselves). The best pilots (or sometimes, the luckiest) managed to hold on long enough to get on of the spots on the Santillity itself- they flew HLAF-500s, relatively modern fighters that could hold their own against all but the best Imperial and Coalition models.
The composition of the Horde led to a fairly intuitive level of competence. The least effective (and most expendable) ships were crewed by the least experiences (most expendable) crews. Most of the time quantity helped make up for the lack of quality, but casualties among the lower tiers of the Horde were by far the highest. Those who lasted long enough (which required a mixture of skill and luck) for the next wave of recruits to arrive moved on to the more powerful (and valuable) vessels.
Which meant that Graal Kraxton was surrounded on the Santillity by the best- the most competent, ambitious and committed men in the Horde. Being stationed on the Santillity (and now on one of the Vendettas) meant staying alive- and so competition among the men was fierce. Training was taken seriously and it showed. Graal was confident the Santillity could go several rounds with the best the Empire had to offer.
His confidence was about to be tested.
The Union had contracted Graal Kraxton to do what he did best- attack without mercy, and destroy without remorse.
His target was the series of shipyards rapidly being built between Echtabahn and its moon Echbarahn by the Imperial Schutzstaffel.
He didn't know why the Union wanted those shipyard destroyed. He didn't know, and he didn't care.
He did know that the shipyards would be defended and he was likely going to lose a significant portion of his forces in the course of the attack.
More importantly, he knew that if he successfully completed the mission he would be rewarded with vessels that would more than make up for his losses, and certainly would be of a higher quality than what he had now.
However, most importantly, he knew that the mission provided him an opportunity to exert his power and crush whatever opposition stood in his way.
"Commence attack operations."
With three simple words, set the Santillity's bridge abuzz with activity. Orders were shouted and relayed, commands issues, statuses reported.
Kraxton's Horde surged forward, a torrent of metal and man, hell bent on destruction, the perfect personification of the man who commanded them...
Graal Kraxton's head dipped the slightest fraction, the movement acknowledging the subordinate's statement and dismissing him at the same time. The officer backpedaled slowly, his head slightly lowered as a sign of respect, as he made his way down the small incline that separated his master's command deck from the rest of the Santillity's bridge.
The movement was indicative of everything in Kraxton's horde, from its induction rituals to its order of battle.
In his small corner of space, in that miserable, unimportant, god-forsaken corner of the galaxy, Graal Kraxton was everything.
Everything.
Tribute was paid.
Recruits were sent.
Leaders, regardless of status or political persuasion, cowered at his mere mention.
Planets bowed to his whim or suffered unimaginable punishment.
Obedience was secured.
By brute force sometimes, though the Tarkin Doctrine (although it was not called this, or even actively pursued as such... it just happened to work out that way) helped reduce the number of such incidents.
On occasion, someone arose with the idea that they could challenge him, someone arose who believed that if they defied him that he would back down.
Like he was some sort of schoolyard bully.
Other times (though with much less frequency than one might imagine) someone with slightly more intelligence attempted to resist with force.
The result was the same either way.
Not that it was all bad.
The relationship between Graal Kraxton and the planets he "protected" was something of a symbiotic one. In fact, like many demons and vampires of mythology and fable Graal Kraxton only got involved if asked.
In his corner of space (a swath of territory that encompassed parts of Hutt Space and the surrounding Outer Rim) the politics of the great powers might as well have been in another universe.
The Black Dragon Empire had defined its border and stopped its expansion. The Empire didn't give a shit about resourceless Rim Worlds, and the Galactic Coalition was too busy getting its ass-kicked by just about everyone to help out. The Commonwealth was too far away, and the League of Nations, for all its progressive mottos and egalitarian principles was little more than a club for rich Core Worlds.
Which left Kraxton.
And while the politics of the galaxy at large may have been far from the minds of these people, politics of there own was not.
And so when one planet got fed up over perceived slights and picked a fight with another, or two worlds decided to duke it out over mineral rich asteroid belt, or someone figured out how to export some exotic material and make a few credits but got threatened by their jealous neighbors they looked to one man to provide the muscle that they themselves lacked.
And Graal Kraxton answered.
He pounded your enemies into submission, fended off that rouge mercenary gang, and protected your convoys from privateering. He did what he said he'd do.
But when the threat was over, and the crisis was averted, one would discover that Graal Kraxton didn't just pack up and leave. No, since you invited him in, he decided to make himself comfortable.
You didn't understand the threat. It was lurking there, just around the corner, and you need him. The galaxy remains a dangerous place. He was looking out for your own good.
The catch of course, was that protection is expensive.
Even when he (and the Horde) wasn't physically there were protecting you- the deterrent factor people knew what would happen if they touched a planet under his protection- he was protecting you, so you still had to pay.
Payment, of course, comes in many forms... and terms are often renegotiated without your consent or knowledge, but as long as you decided to pay everything would turn out all right.
It was when you chose not to pay that you would regret ever asking for help in the first place.
Graal Kraxton had no pretensions about whom he was. Unlike some, who put in his position might have proclaimed themselves to be some sort of living deity or ruler with a manifest destiny, he made no outlandish statements, grandiose proclamations or babbling tirades.
He wasn't building up an armada to invade the rest of the galaxy, nor planning some sort of radical genocide that might draw the attention of the greater powers. Not that he feared them, of course, or respected their authority; rather he lacked the ambition that drove most tyrannical maniacs to launch those ludicrous crusades.
He was content lording over the worlds that fell into his influence, and crushing those who dared defy his will.
He especially enjoyed the latter.
As such, he had a feeling that his newest assignment was going to be very pleasurable.
So Graal Kraxton barked an order, his deep, booming voice carrying easily across the length and breathe of the Santillity's cavernous bridge.
"Launch the Horde."
And as his words reverberated of the ceiling and bulkheads the Santillity and the mass of vessels arrayed around it jumped to lightspeed...
***
Echtabahn System
Kraxton's Horde exited hyperspace in the formation they had entered it, which placed the Santillity, the armada's most powerful vessel, and the symbol of its might slightly ahead of the other vessels.
This was a symbolic move, a signal to both the planet the Horde was targeting and the body of the Horde that Graal Kraxton was leading the charge, and that he was unafraid of the inevitable conflict.
Of course, there was a line between bravery and stupidity.
The Santillity was certainly an impressive vessel, at nearly 3500 meters long she was twice the size of the common Imperial ships of the line, and commanded an impressive array of weaponry. Following a retro-fit financed by the Union she boasted 150 heavy turbolasers of the highest quality (an upgrade over her original compliment of 132) and 75 ion cannons (up from 58). Gone were her finicky sensors and outdated shield projectors. A fresh coat of paint covered her re-touched and repaired, reinforced hull. Of critical systems, only the engines were original, as even the Union had been unable to find replacements large enough and of the correct style to fit the mobile fortress.
The Santillity might not win many races, but she certainly packed a wallop.
For the most part however, the rest of Kraxton's fleet was less impressive.
The armada was constantly fluctuating beast, due both to the nature by which Kraxton obtained his warships, and by the tactics he often employed while in combat. The size and exact make-up of the armada eluded even Graal himself, though he kept himself fairly well apprised of what ships he had at his disposal. Needless to say it was an eclectic mix.
Slightly behind the Santillity, on the mighty Bulwark's flanks, were the two most recent additions to the Horde, courtesy of the Union, a gift for services recently rendered. Four long, unique looking vessels, with the exterior appearances of a freighter. Docile as they might seem, they were actually most powerful vessels besides the Santillity and together with their deadly Star Viper contingents rivaled Kraxton's flagship for the most firepower in the Horde. They were the Vendetta class Battlecruisers Armegadon and Salicious; the only two ships of their type employed by someone other than Black Sun.
Ancient and of dubious value, around two dozen Neutron Star Class Bulk Cruisers made their home among the Horde and served as the dumping ground for the newest and greenest "recruits." Survive a tour on a Neutron Star and you might make your way onto one of the dozen or so Core Galaxy System Dreadnoughts that had at one time served as the backbone of Kraxton's navy. Survive enough battles on one of those old warhorses, and you could transfer to one of the "Lethal Eleven" as the Horde's Assault Frigate contingent was known. Though they had long ago been discarded as front-line war ships by the galaxy's major militaries, the modified Dreadnaughts were still capable vessels.
Of course, no navy is comprised totally of frigates and medium cruisers, smaller craft are needed as well. Pickets, scouts, and anti-fighter vessels are necessary cogs in even the most rag-tag naval conglomeration. A host of converted freighters made up the bulk Kraxton's force, and at the very least could act as "meat shields" to protect larger, more important vessels from incoming fire. Scouts who survived long enough might find a berth on the smattering of Corellian gunships, or even one of the Horde's five carrack cruisers.
There was no less diversity among the armada's snubfighters. The majority of Horde pilots flew uglies, the cobbled together mutant craft forged out of the discarded pieces of the galaxies most common snub-fighters. Others flew hornet interceptors or cloakshape fighters, the ubiquitous fringer/pirate models that were cheap and lethal (though often to the pilots themselves). The best pilots (or sometimes, the luckiest) managed to hold on long enough to get on of the spots on the Santillity itself- they flew HLAF-500s, relatively modern fighters that could hold their own against all but the best Imperial and Coalition models.
The composition of the Horde led to a fairly intuitive level of competence. The least effective (and most expendable) ships were crewed by the least experiences (most expendable) crews. Most of the time quantity helped make up for the lack of quality, but casualties among the lower tiers of the Horde were by far the highest. Those who lasted long enough (which required a mixture of skill and luck) for the next wave of recruits to arrive moved on to the more powerful (and valuable) vessels.
Which meant that Graal Kraxton was surrounded on the Santillity by the best- the most competent, ambitious and committed men in the Horde. Being stationed on the Santillity (and now on one of the Vendettas) meant staying alive- and so competition among the men was fierce. Training was taken seriously and it showed. Graal was confident the Santillity could go several rounds with the best the Empire had to offer.
His confidence was about to be tested.
The Union had contracted Graal Kraxton to do what he did best- attack without mercy, and destroy without remorse.
His target was the series of shipyards rapidly being built between Echtabahn and its moon Echbarahn by the Imperial Schutzstaffel.
He didn't know why the Union wanted those shipyard destroyed. He didn't know, and he didn't care.
He did know that the shipyards would be defended and he was likely going to lose a significant portion of his forces in the course of the attack.
More importantly, he knew that if he successfully completed the mission he would be rewarded with vessels that would more than make up for his losses, and certainly would be of a higher quality than what he had now.
However, most importantly, he knew that the mission provided him an opportunity to exert his power and crush whatever opposition stood in his way.
"Commence attack operations."
With three simple words, set the Santillity's bridge abuzz with activity. Orders were shouted and relayed, commands issues, statuses reported.
Kraxton's Horde surged forward, a torrent of metal and man, hell bent on destruction, the perfect personification of the man who commanded them...
