Kings and Pawns - I

[Telan Desaria]

Not too Long Before the Battle of Bestine...



General Seraph opened his eyes to the harsh light his surroundings provided. Had he not been partially asleep for the previous hour, the dim illumination would have been standard. Psychosomatic symptoms being that they are, the visions dancing in his head of turbolaser exchanges made the reversion from an imagined battle plane to the bridge of a star ship that much more…sudden.


“ Mon General,” called an aide, seeing the commander finally roused. With datapad firmly under arm, the barely-decade and a half-aged boy bounded over. “ We are towed to our destination.”


Seraph smiled, the thick Bourbon accent of his aide de camp always comical to him. Though the dialect was common enough on the adjutant’s Berellian homeworld, his lack of time spent there gave him a chuckle nevertheless.


“ Very good. Finalize all preparations and make ready to disengage Shadow One.”


The adjutant bowed deeply and relayed the General’s orders to a skulking Balmorran who captained the steelen cylinder in which they sat. Seraph turned his attention do his own datapad that sat unused on the arm of his chair. Activating it, a rough diagram of the Kourison Garrison came into being. Lines in green against a black backdrop signaled earthworks, red - weapons emplacements, blue – buildings, et al. One flick of his finger changed the schematics to an aerial holograph. Serpah ran coarse fingers over the slightly textured screen. The moment was personal, commander…


to target.


“ Mon General! Shadow One is ready for disengagement.”


Seraph nodded. “ Captain Bismoll – terminate Shadow One. Execute Operational Order 10…”

[Telan Desaria]

Lieutenant Sans Illien looked down longingly at his homeworld. He had traveled many a time in his youth as the son of a marketing vice president; later in life as a soldier he had been stationed throughout the galaxy. From Tatooine to Brentaal, he had gazed upon his home as only a frozen holo but never felt more separated from it than on station above it.


One of the prices of promotion had always been responsibility, the sacrifice of personal freedom for the demands of the service. No greater reminder could have surfaced than the singular tone of the watch change. Those crewman of mid-shift finished their duty reports and briefed replacements. Illien sighed. He tossed a look towards the spinning sphere below and straightened himself. As of the bell, he was Third Watch commander.


Through nearby double doors he stepped, placing every care save duty in a recessed portion of his mind. Promptly stepping up to him, Lieutenant Ratis snapped an intentionally short salute. Illien gave his fast friend a feigned blow into the gut from the latter double over in mock agony. In the teenager’s acted final moments, he extended a red datacard into the air – only when Illien grabbed it with a groan did he straighten out and collapse onto the floor.


A brief applause was struck up by the dozen techs and crewmen ending their shift. Ratis jumped to his feet and bowed while Illien dismissed him with an eye roll. “ Game of shock ball?”


“ When my watch is over, you’re on.” Illien gave Ratis a wave and smiled. He could not help but shake his head while he honestly wondered why Colonel Generom kept such an undisciplined boy as one of his four watch commanders. Reviewing the report Ratis had written, the answer was obvious: Tochem Ratis was the best launch officer in the Central Sector.


“ Good evening, sir.” Master Chief Petty Officer Kenslm nodded deferentially as he took up his station across the command deck. “ How was…”


Illien looked up from his report. “ Something wrong, Chief?”


“ Gravimetric distortions one hundred-ninety kilometers off, bearing two-niner-eight.”


“ Hmm, log it and call Lieutenant A – “


“ A ship is decloaking!!!” called the tactical officer. Illien rose to his feet leered into space. Sure enough, the form of a ship of some kind, at least a half-kilometer in length, was emerging from the darkness.


“ Shields!” he called, turning quickly to the Chief.


“ Not responding – our connection to the generator has been severed. Let me re-route auxiliary…”


A flurry of missiles was loosed from the unidentified craft, a flurry from which there was no escape.

[Telan Desaria]

Xornia
Palace of His Majesty, the King


“ Hark and Makeway – Entering: His Royal Highness Grand Prince Mikhail!”


Moff Eness turned away from the doorway, having seen the entrance ceremony twice already. He had already tired of the totally a-regal entrance bellow by the page, his lance’s banging on the marble floor, the brief trumpet fanfare. However, Eness thought to himself, the punctuated musical announcement is the most tolerable portion of the ceremony.He remember that it had been penned by Grand Prince Serathen himself as to someway apologize for his absence.


One glance to the Moff’s right revealed Grand Prince Gregori, renowned ‘playboy’ of Xornium. It was he who had orchestrated that part – thankfully only that part – of the evening’s pageantry. His tastes were likewise known to be gaudy and lavish. Eness cringed at the memory of his preparing security for a fifteen-million credit monstrosity that Grand Prince lauded as a masterpiece. Eness turned back towards the Throne and spied Grand Prince Mikhail edging closer.


Mikhail sauntered past without a word, his grey eyes and equally grey hair swaying from side to side as he walked. Eness ignored the aging fellow and was immediately accosted by the crescendo of another fanfare. This was not a newer pieces created by an apologetic amateur but an ancient processional march written many centuries ago by the master of that era’s musical realm.


All stood and turned to cheer for His Royal Majesty, King Michal Orlean, Sovereign of All Xornium. Eness took a measure of pride, despite his various opinions of them, in the fact that every Grand Prince present was at the front of the crowd to pay his respect for the diamond jubilee of their lord and master.


When all the King beckoned the celebration recommence, the center of the hall cleared without delay. One couple then another took to the polished plane accompanied by the Consort Ensemble’s beautiful harmony. The gentlemen’s exotic uniforms and suits jostled and jingled, the ladies and their lavish dresses spun and swayed. The Imperial Moff, senior representative of the Imperial Government on Thyferra, could not recognize the pieces other than to say it was a waltz. Though before his novice’s analysis of the music could continue, Eness felt a tap on his shoulder.


“ Father!”


Eness enfolded the King in a graceful hug, then stepped back and bowed low. The elder monarch let a smile cross his weathered face as his youngest and only living son took his place aloft. Though nearly forty years separated father and son, not a being alive could dispute the familial relation: both men bore a sandy blown mane – the King’s long since having greyed; their hair was eerily straight; both bore eyes of emerald and a kindly manner.


“ Your Majesty, the Grand Admiral sends his congratulations and wishes you another half-century of prosperity. He is pleased to bestow upon you the Statue of Algeron, to arrive shortly. It is transplanted directly from Xucphra City on Thyferra.”


“ You may thank him for me.” The King nodded, signaling an end to the official dialogue between the Regent’s spokesman and King, and the beginning of that between father and son. “ How was your trip to Bresniak?”


“ It was enjoyable. The Lady de’Winter and I met there. She also sends her congratulations.”


The King let loose a hearty chuckle as he took son in arm. “ You have been courting that poor girl for ten years. One of these days, you will ask her to marry you.”


“ I doubt it, father. She is…more than I can be.”


His Majesty shot his son a mock reproving glare. “ Don’t contradict the King.”

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Headquarters
Bedchamber of Moff Eness

City of Kaapstadt, Xornium


“ Good morning, Your Excellency.”


Moff Eness tossed and turned for a few moments until the light of a brand new became more than he could stand. As was often his custom, one of the many pillows adorning his four-post bed went flying in the direction of the poor chap bearing morning greetings. Captain Horus, Imperial Army, had woken his commander every day for the last two years and had acquired a knack for the job as demonstrated by his deft shuffle left out of the silken projectile’s path.


“ Why hast thou forsaken me?” mumbled the Moff as his adjutant moved towards the nearby nightstand and placed a steaming container of caf thereupon. Eness emptied the hand-crafted cup without hesitation, let his eyes roll back in his head, and fell grace-lessly back into the folds of his duvet.




Some time later, the Moff removed to his office, something of a hangover lingering. “ Was the party that good?”


The middle aged and wise Captain rolled his eyes, remembering he had to carry the Moff into the waiting repulsorlimo. His boss did not seem to remember, and politely ignored his question. “ These arrived for you this morning, sir.”


His Excellency was still tired atop his other ailments and waved away the proffered hand. “ What are they?”


“ Letters of congratulations, some no doubt wishing you an expedient ascendance to the throne of Xornium.”


Eness frowned. “ I appreciate the sentiment, I truly do, but do people not understand that my father would have to die in order for me to be King - - if I even wanted to. One of our lovely Grand Princes will doubtless assume that vacancy before I ever hear of it.”


Horus shrugged his shoulders and stood silently as the Moff tore into a stack of flimsiplasts bearing the morning news. He then felt an odd vibrating sensation in his leg. Intentionally, he ignored the warning device on his comlink to enjoy its soothing movement.


The Moff watched his aide say nothing, though he did not need to. The captain’s face turned several odd colours before all pigment drained from it. Grey eyes grew large at whatever information was passing from the anonymous speaker. Before he could inquire, Horus moved to the bookcase and revealed the holoscreen therein. He wasted no time in activating it and putting on an arranged channel.


“…we have little information at this time as the entire complex has been locked down by the Royal Guards. Imperial Authorities have deferred all questions to the planetary government which will say nothing. We do know that near a quarter of the city is being evacuated.”

The voice of an unseen news anchor bearing a Betrezdan accent bellowed. “ Can we confirm then if it has happened? Or is this a rumor, some sort of drill?”

“ Though we have no details we do know the fact of the matter – Grand Prince Gregori is missing. He is known throughout Xornium and even the Empire as the playboy of the Royal Family but has never disappeared before. If this is some sort of planned outing, the government is taking no chances.”

As if to illustrate the report’s point, an Imperial TIE Defender neared the news speeder and fired off a pair of bursts across her nose. “ Unidentified vessel, the perimeter has been expanded. You have two minutes to withdrawn an additional five kilometers or you will be destroyed. You will receive no further warnings.”


Captain Horus turned to Eness who was already clutching a comlink firmly in hand so tight that his knuckles were turning a horrid white.

[Telan Desaria]

General Seraph looked down at his desk and the slew of reports that had gathered there. He was most pleased with the meticulous nature possessed of his senior officers – they were mostly, after all, former military in one form or another. Despite what many would say, his men did what they were supposed to – what they were paid to. Thinking on that concept brought a renewed smile to his face - - the success of Shadow One’s assault gave a new lease to the importance Seraph played in the schemes of his employer.


At that moment, a private comlink sounded. Speaking of the Devil.


“ Is this channel secure?”


Seraph nodded. “ It is always secure, Your Excellency.”


“ Excellent. Status?”


The lanky general returned to his desk. “ A smashing success, Your Excellency. Total victory. Our next target is the Imperial garrison on Bespus Minor.”


The unseen voice responded harshly. “ No! I told you only to hit Xornian targets!”


“ It is a Xornian target. It is an Imperial outpost but fully manned by the 735th Imperial Security Division - - wholly staffed by Xornians.”


The comm. Grew silent before the speaker acquiesced. “ You toy with the regular Imps and it will be on your head.” The comm. Beeped, signaling a close to the transmission.


Seraph frowned. Why do I put up with this? A new monitor came to life with a monetary account on Raltiir displayed thereupon. Fifteen million credits bloated the size of said account. Ah, yes…that.

[Telan Desaria]

Moff Eness arrived at the scene of the abduction amid a fury unlike he had ever seen. Members of the Imperial Civil Defense Force, the Star of Xornium on their shoulders clear in the midday sun, milled about combing ever square meter of the compound. Planetary Militiamen patrolled the perimeter, posting specific and merciless sings in all local dialects - entrance or approach would be greeted by a warning volley then execution.


The Grand Prince had been seen at the latest of his parties, the guests a veritable roster of the social elite in all Xornium and beyond. Commander Max Vinzit, native fighter ace and hero of the Battle of Altoc in OverSector Outer was present with Dora Lamzicki on his arm, a women voted the prettiest holo-actress in the sector. She was, in fact, the last person to see Gregori alive.


" Your Excellency."


Eness turned towards the tall form of Colonel Fritzin, head of the Palace Guard. Though his chizeled features remained passive and neutral, the eyes set deep in his head blazed with fury and sadness. His charge had disappeared on his watch and though he was not on duty at the time, he bore full responsibility for what transpiried. The Moff could rest certain of one thing - Fritzin would find who committed the dastardly deed or die trying.


" Colonel, any news?"


" No sir."


The Moff reached up to the brim of his visor cap and gave it a squeeze, winds from the nearby mountain giving their all at blowing the device from his head. " Tell me what happened."



" My executive officer, Major Wyndim, arrived about twenty minutes before his watch began and asked if I wanted to head home early. I have not been feeling well and said yes. I went to grab something to eat on the boulevard and heard an officer in distress call on my comlink and returned. When I got here four of my men were dead, my xo wounded, and the Grand Prince gone. Orbital patrol gave chase, but the vessel cloaked and that was the end of it."


" Hmmm." The Moff pursed his lips, only one thought coming to mind. Grand Prince Mikhail had a dislike for Gregori that was legendary, so much so that the press had labeled them the 'Sparring Partners.' However, he was near Desarian in his honourable precepts. Nevertheless...


Eness turned back to Fritzin, his next destination at the forefront of his mind. " Take charge here, Colonel. I have faith in you."

[Telan Desaria]

As was all too frequent on Tierenar, a fierce storm grew from the shining light of the system’s binary star, rains pouring down where only moments before clear skies and serenity reigned. Disgusted with the weather he had grown up in, Grand Prince Yulov turned into the depths of his palatial office. An aide waited therein, silent and patient.


“ Yes, Vladmir? I can feel your eyes boring into me without ever sighting them myself.”


Nonplussed, the lanky Royal Secretary moved slightly to one side. “ My Lord, you have not rested in some time – perhaps you should retire.”


Yulov scoffed; he sauntered to a small end table with several bottles of clear fluids atop. Grasping that which stood closest, he emptied a portion into a nearby glass then emptied it into his waiting digestive tract. Rest – how could he? Everything was proceeding according to plan this far. That said, however, turning his watchful eyes from the Grand Scheme for any time at all might allow his fragile house of cards to collapse. His plans had only flaw – the entire scheme depended upon one minute ploy after another, the failure of anyone spelling disaster for the rest. He could not sleep!


“ Sir – I must insist. Nothing has been left to chance, except your health. You would be ill-able to react well preoccupied by slumber.”


The Grand Prince scowled anew – his aide had a point. He drained another glass of brandy with a mumbled toast to victory and departed his office for the bed chamber. Before leaving, he gave his aide a pat on the shoulder and his eternal thanks. There were few the Grand Prince could trust but Vladmir was one of them. Of that he had no doubt.

[Telan Desaria]

Palace of Grand Prince Mikhail

Center of the City of Carthage, Princip IV


“ My Lord, His Excellency the Moff-Prince Eness, Son of His Royal Majesty Michael de’Orlean.”


The senior representative of the Imperial Government entered the dining hall, taken aback at once at the sheer size of it. The ceiling was vaulted, its supporting columns ornately decorated so much so that the entire room would not have been out of place as an adjunct to the Great Cathedral on Coruscant. Whatever thoughts Eness had upon entrance, that the Grand Prince was undeserving was not one. The building was among the most lavish in all the Kingdom of Xornium, but he deserved it – it was he who had defended the planet of Princip IV against the Yuuzhan Vong without a military at his disposal. Through the unrelenting forge of the battlefield he moulded zealous but untrained peasants into an elite fighting force now christened the Fourth Army. The men and women therein began a gruesome campaign with only the weapons in their homes and ended it with the most laurels earned by any Xornian unit ever.


“ Welcome, Prince Eness.” Mikhail deigned not to rise, dinner sprawled out before him on the darkwood table. Eness recognized it as something built for him by the inhabitants, the table offered but refused as a gift for the King’s jubilee. Think what he might, Eness was in awe of the man.


“ Grand Prince Mikhail.” The Moff lowered his head in a sweeping bow befitting both the regal status of himself and the salute’s recipient. “ You have heard of the disappearance of Grand Prince Gregori.”


The Grand Prince emptied a goblet of fine brandy. “ I have indeed. Good riddens to bad rubbish.”


“ What do you think spawned such an act?” Eness had no intention of making his suspicion open – though his scorn for the man himself could have filled the chamber and beyond.


“ Probably someone who was not invited to one of his parties. Ha!”


Eness moved closer to the Grand Prince, boots clicking on a polished stone floor. “ Perhaps. Or perhaps someone jealous of him.”


The Grand Prince was in mid-sip when the Moff spoke and could not complete it when the other was finished speaking. Angrily, he slammed the glass back upon the table. Pushing his aged frame aloft, he stood so fast the chair slid back and tipped. “ Do not accuse me, Eness. I hated that miserable wretch because he makes us all look like fools. We are the Grand Princes of Xornium, not a cadre of playboys. He spends more time enjoying the fruits of others’ labour than presiding over the six systems in his charge. You would do well to remember that his exploits blotch your reputation as well, Prince. You are the son of the King and you have never once opposed his attitude – so you are as guilty as he is.


“ I would glady wipe his seed from the cosmos if he challenged me to do so, but I would not revert to infiltration and extrication. On the field of battle is where I shall tear him limb from limb. Unfortunately, I will never have the chance now. Did I do this? No. But my congratulations to whomever did. Do not impugn my honour, Eness, until you have some of your own. Good day.”


The Grand Prince stormed past the berated Prince and out of the hall, his dinner still steaming hot in his wake. Eness was left alone with his thoughts.


Not the reaction I had intended…

[Telan Desaria]

Royal Palace, Tierenar


Grand Prince Yulov tossed aside his glass encased lighter, happy to be alone with his thoughts and a fine cigarette. Silently he puffed away on the thin deathstick, watching with sunken eyes as the smoke wafted away and out over his desk. His peace was not destined to last, however.


“ Your Excellency, you have an encoded transmission inbound.”


Yulov growled as he pictured Vladmir at his own desk, content to relay all stress and burden up the ladder of power. He reminisced and almost wished to be so irresponsible again – almost. The yearning for power was too strong. Nothing could alter his course towards that ultimate goal – the Crown of Xornium.


“ Send it through once you have descrambled it.”


The Grand Prince gnashed his teeth and pounded angrily the remains of the cigarette into a crystal tray. Turning to a monitor at his side, he activated the screen and input a series of command codes that changed the garbled picture into the image of General Seraph, that annoying but useful angel of chaos that figured so prominently into the Prince’s machinations.


“ Your Excellency,” bowed the General.


“ Come now. What news?”


The General lifted a pad. “ We attacked the base at Bespus and eradicated it. As you ordered, there were some survivors. We also raided and captured a convoy from Xornia to Carthage. An impressive haul, that one.”


“ It’s not enough,” Yulov murmured. “ Eness is sniffing too closely. Yesterday he accused Mikhail. He’s getting too close.”


“ Mikhail?” Seraph asked. “ He seems to be on the wrong track period. Why worry?”


“ Because he is more Imperial than Xornian and they show an uncanny ability to alter their mental patterns and switch course. He may be wrong today but he could be right tomorrow. Hit him somewhere big – something that will require his attention.”


“ As you wish, Excellency.”


“ One more thing, Seraph.”


“ Yes?”


“ The participants of the excursion. Eliminate them. If Eness does get close, let us not play into his hand. I don’t want any…unwanted loose ends. Understand?”


The taller man nodded, solemn. “ All too well…”