When Rulers Die, Cries Ring Far and Wide

[Tiberius Anar]

Dressed in his pyjamas and robe, slippers flapping on marble floors, Tiberius Anar, raced through the corridors of the Imperial Palace. Guards came to attention around him as he pushed his way into the Operation’s Centre.

“Report,” he snapped.

A military aide, one of those assigned to Palace by the Navy, outlined what was known in a few brief sentences. The Emperor had been on the Death Star. He had been personally interrogating a leading Rebel in the company of Lord Vader. The prisoner had attempted escape. In the ensuing melee all three had died.

“How long ago?”

“An hour, sir.”

Anar’s mind raced. If the Emperor was dead then swift action was necessary to keep the Empire together. Systems had to be kept under Imperial rule. The fleets had to be kept loyal. There had to be a display of strength. The sooner he acted the better for all.

Council Chamber thought Anar The Moffs.

“I want every moff, now. On the holo-net. Put them through to the Council Chamber. All of them.”

The Operations Room came alive at that. Obeying orders helped to combat the shock. Without another word Anar walked out and headed down the corridor.

A short turbolift ride brought him to the hallway leading to the Council Chamber. He double doors to the Chamber were guarded by two Royal Guards, silent, scarlet sentinels their faces hidden by helmets that deliberately obscured their humanity. As Anar approached, their force pikes crashed together barring his way.

“Stand aside,” he barked, “I must use the Chamber.”

The guards stood silent, watching through those black-glassed eye slits.

Anar attempted to step forwards. The pikes were turned on him.

“Dammit!” Anar expostulated, “The Emperor is dead.”

The effect of those four words was astonishing. In one fluid movement and with out, it seemed, any hesitation the guards activated their force-pikes, inverted them and drove them into their own chests. With no sound other than the whirring of the pikes they crumpled to the floor.

Anar had no time to ponder this strange action, otherwise he might have realised this was how the Emperor's protectors behaved when confronted with failure. He stepped over the lifeless red-garbed forms and opened the Chamber’s doors.

Inside he found the light controls and using them revealed the contents of the Chamber. A treble bank of holo-plates were arrayed in a rising half circle around a slightly raised dais. Aimed directly at that dais was a holo-camera. Anar stalked across the room towards it, thumbing his comm-link as he did so.

“Have you got them?”

“Yes, sir,” crackled the comm.

“Very well, activate the plates.”

With a slight shimmering of the air the majority of the holo-plates came on line. They revealed the three quarter sized figures of the Empire’s moffs in various states of dress. Those fortunate enough to have been found during local daylight were wearing their uniforms, those caught at night were attired in similar fashion to to Anar. One or two appeared to be wrapped in bed sheets.

“Gentlemen,” said Anar as evenly as he could manage, “I have grave news. The Emperor has been killed by a rebel insurgent.”

Most of the moffs, thanks to long habit, concealed their emotions but not a few were surprised enough to show it. One or two looked completely lost.

“His death is a terrible blow to us,” continued Anar, “but we must ensure that the Empire does not disintegrate. Order must be maintained.”

Nods greeted this statement.

“Therefore, total martial law should be declared throughout the Empire and steps taken to demonstrate our unity. The people must know that the Empire will continue to rule and that the Rebels will be crushed. I rely upon you gentlemen to see to it.”

It was not exactly a command. For some unknown reason Anar could not command these men not now- grave danger lay down that path. Fortunately for the Imperial politician, years of commands issued from this room ensured that the moffs greeted it as a command. A chorus of Yes sir's and At once’s echoed round the room.

Then they disappeared. Some no doubt would instantly carry out Anar’s “suggestion”. Others would hesitate. And a few might not do it at all. He was sure that at least a few would weight their options to see which way lay the best advantage for themselves before acting.

Anar could only think what path he had set out on, standing alone in that shadowy room.

[Khendon Sevon]

Meticulously polished boots clicked on an equally spotless durasteel deck. The owner of the pair of military grade items stopped at the fore viewport and equalized his weight. Bare hands were clasped at the small of the tall figure’s back, enforcing perfect posture. Everything was strictly Imperial.

Shimmering, silver eyes cast their calculations into the black expanses of space. The darkness of the man’s uniform was made more so by the amount of ambiance lighting all other facets of the bridge. Something wicked hung about the officer’s garb and stance. He seemed to exemplify a spring about to explode in motion at any moment.

“All banks, one salvo to primary reactor. For every meter difference, ten lashings will be served. Fire as she crosses the bow.”

“By your command, Executor.”

Khendon Sevon’s face reflected in the transparasteel. His handsome features contrasted sharply with the devil’s tail told by his eyes. The officer scrutinized the blockade-runner that now traversed the massive star destroyer’s fore section. As the disabled craft reached the midpoint of the massive wedge, a stream of energy erupted from the Crimson Wake’s and collided in a concentrated area near center mass.

A blinding blaze, a star born new, burnt for an instant before cooling in the void of space. Shock waves rolled over the heavy armor of the star destroyer as secondary explosions tore through the Corellian craft.

The Executor turned to face his crew. “Treachery deserves no quarter. These terrorists will die in the cold with their hearts exploding and skin turned to shards of ice. We gave them unity and PEACE! They repaid us with murder. This Alliance betrayed the Empire!

“Death to traitors!”

“DEATH TO TRAITORS!” The entire bridge erupted in a roar of approval.

Khendon surveyed the crew pits and nodded slowly. “Fighter command, recall all pilots. Navigation, set course for the core—we’re going to Coruscant. Our strength will be needed there. Comm., open a channel to the rest of our fleet.”

“Executor Sevon,” said an anxious voice from over the newly opened channel, “that was a splendid display of Imperial marksmanship!”

“Admiral, I’m returning your command to you. Continue the mop up unless otherwise ordered.”

“Thank you, Executor. It was a plea—“ Khendon killed the line with a stiff press to the command chair’s console. He settled into the comfortable seat of power and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Jump when ready.” The demonic vessel accelerated into hyperspace.

[Miranda Tarkin]

Asleep within her penthouse that overlooked the Emperor's Palace on Imperial Center, Miranda Tarkin tossed and turned in her sleep. There were no nightmares to speak of for the young woman, but a restlessness seeped its way into her nerve endings that kept her from falling into a deep sleep. Something was terribly wrong.

Her eyes opened with little difficulty and she was wide-awake. The chronometer that illuminated off her nightstand barely caused her eyes to wince. It was 0330.

She shoved the covers aside and slipped into her robe as if there was a destination in mind, but Miranda merely sat at the edge of the bed wondering why her head was so fuzzy. This feeling of being lost was confounding her and it was quickly beginning to grow irritating. Her mind was always razor sharp and calculating, a trait inherited from her grandfather, the late Grand Moff Tarkin. He would have been quite disappointed in her if he had seen his granddaughter in this state.

Who knows. If he had a grave, Wilhuff would probably be turning in it.

beep ... beep ... beep

A call at this time in the morning was not unusual for Miranda, it just didn't happen all that often. Unless it was that damn Moff from the Fondor Sector who didn't understand what the word no meant. Being eligible did not mean Miranda was going to run off to the stockyards and marry someone twice her age that had a rotund gut the size of a Jawa.

She rolled her neck around, rubbing at her eyes to wake up fully and took the call. Miranda was a stickler for keeping appearances up. With no make-up on and hair in disarray, she wouldn't allow that image to be on the receiving end of that call. Therefore, the lights remained off. "Tarkin, here. Go ahead."

A Naval Officer appeared on screen. He was broadcasting from some sort of Imperial Cruiser since there was a glimpse of space in the background and was looking rather perplexed since Miranda was not in view. "I'm here, Colonel," she reiterated forcefully, "Go ahead."

"M'lady. I apologize for waking you at this hour of night back home. I apologize further to be the bearer of such terrible news..."

Miranda heard the tiredness in his voice before noticing the lines of exhaustion under his eyes. He went silent, fumbling for words, gasping for air as if he were a fish out of water. "I was woken up for a reason," she spat, disgusted by his lack of professionalism. "Now let's hear it."

Being scolded by a woman did not sit well with him, but Miranda was not just any woman. Why he held his tongue.

The Battle of Endor did not sway in our favor as we would have hoped. There were casualties on both sides. Many of the Rebels were killed...

She stopped him there, "You said casualties on both sides." Again, that uneasy feeling returned. Even before she asked the question, Miranda knew the answer, "My Father? Is he all right?"

An A-wing impacted against the command deck when the Executor's shielding was damage. There were no survivors.

The darkness was a welcome cover. She had to cover her mouth quickly to force her despair away. Her composure fizzled and her strength dissolved into tears.

A few moments of awkward silence passed.

I'm sorry.

There was little else to be said. Miranda ended the transmission herself. How was she going to tell Mother?

beep ... beep ... beep

She sniffed and thumbed her tears away. "Oh bloody hell. Now what! YES?!"

Dialessce, her liaison with the Ministry of Propaganda, had a brow raised at her outburst. You know then?

"Forgive my manners." She forced herself to her feet and turned on the lights, comfortable with Dialessce on the monitor. The two of them worked together for the last two years.

As stoic of a visage she was attempting to portray now, a drink was needed badly. "I just received the call about my Father seconds before yours." Opening the crystal carafe, the scent of bourbon tickled her nostrils. "I was told little of what occurred at Endor but I know there's more."

Correct, as usual. You've been cleared for that information but you must come to the Ministry for that access. In two standard hours, a meeting will be held with all high-ranking governmental officials. Your presence was requested as was your consul.

"I'll see you in thirty minutes then." She capped the flask as the monitor went blank, just like her emotions. Work had to be done and a clear mind was going to be needed. The scales had been shaken at Endor, Miranda knew this much, but she wondered just how deep the wounds were that the Rebels had created...

[Tiberius Anar]

Moff Geriskol took very little time to come to a decision. This was not unusual.

A blunt, even crude, man by the standards of those in his position he had a directness that might have been disarming had he not been one of the Emperor's governors. In one such as him plain talk cost lives. Just last month he had pronounced sentence on five suspected rebel agents in two short sentences. "They are here for a reason. That reason means death."

His proclamation of martial law was equally blunt. It barely stretched to a page of data script. A brief introduction followed by eight general rules to be obeyed through out his Sector. It lacked grace and charm, but it made its point. Life just got harder

Not that Geriskol was completely without guile or subtlety. His proclamation omitted all reference to the death of the Emperor. "Recent rebel actions" were cited as his reason, which was highly plausible.

The implementation, also, had a certain cunning to it. As soon as he made his decision he issued a blanket order to all his commanders through out the sector. They were to march their men out at moments determined to make the most impact. If local time permitted the men should march out at dawn. If not they were to march out at noon or some other time that would have equal impact. The people were to be left in no doubt as to the nature of the law under which they were to live henceforth.

Already he could here the tramping of booted feet in the street below. Geriskol smiled, he had made the right decision for the moment.

[Javus Parr]

Javus paced back and forth on the command center in the Govenor's Palace, atop a hill overlooking Coronet city. The news he had just received had given him the mightest of headaches, and the pacing seemed to calm the raged bantha running amuck in his head.

"Sir, a message coming in from Moff Zermal." The aid looked up at Javus expectantly.

"Open a channel." Javus straightened his uniform.

The visage of Moff Zermal appeared in a blue holographic image, his left eye twitching slightly as he spoke. "Govenor, no doubt you have heard the news of the Emperor's death?"

It was still hard to believe it. Javus nodded his head. "I heard not moments ago from a message sent from Imperial Center."

"Mmm... yes. It's the same one I received as well." Zermal's hand came into view as it stroked his chin. "When news of this gets out to the public, there will be much unrest and many riots, Govenor. I don't think I need to tell you that you must heighten security now while the day's hours are still young on Corellia."

It was true what the Moff said. Dawn had just barely broken on Corellia, and there were yet to be people walking or driving to their respective destinations of work. "Corellia will be kept under control, Moff Zermal."

There was no more to be said between the two men, and Zermal's visage faded out. Javus stood there for a moment, letting his back relax, and then turned to his aid. "Corporal. Have order Beta-Tango-Delta executed. We need to secure this planet before this news gets out."

"Aye sir!" The aid scrambled and got on the line with all the military bases that were stationed on Corellia, it's moons, it's orbital platforms, and it's infamous spaceyard.

Javus watched the aid work for a moment, before clasping his hands behind his back and slowly moving out of the room. Contimplatively, he headed back to his office. No doubt there would be many calls and duties to perform this day. This historic day.

[Tiberius Anar]

Bare hours had passed since the news had reached the Palace. Anar stood, fully clothed now, in a dimly lit room looking out on the city as dawn spread its first rays of light across the sky. His mind was working on the problems that faced him.

The need to hold the Empire together against the manifold obstacles of law, divided and chaotic government and the great mass of factions that existed with it. The difficulty of knowing where to turn, of knowing how to act. The insurmountable problem of dealing with the Rebels.

The most pressing of his problems was just how to announce the death of the Emperor. This was not going to be an easy task, even for a master politician like Anar. It would require a sensitive hand. It would require a delicate touch. Fortunately the Minister of Propaganda had someone who, he assured the Chancellor, would know just how to handle it.

Miranda Tarkin…

She had first come to the attention of the government in the aftermath of her grandfather’s death. The Ministry of Propaganda had felt that an appearance by the deceased governor's grief stricken granddaughter lend poignancy to the newscast. It was probably their best decision in the handling of the whole affair.

Young, lovely and fighting back tears Miranda had delivered an impromptu and highly effective denunciation of the traitorous Rebels. Her words had resonated in the hearts of billions of men and women, particularly those of people her own age.

Since then she had been on a government retainer as a consultant to the Minister. It was mostly for appearance sake, but sometimes she produced gold. The Minister was sure that this was going to be one of those times. Anar hoped that he was correct.

Behind him the door hissed open...

[Miranda Tarkin]

Her meeting with the Ministry answered all her looming questions about Endor. With admirable stride, Miranda took to the news better then most officials hearing it for the first time. Angry as any other citizen, that emotion needed to focused on how to keep the Empire together. But a more immediate concern was how to tell the entire Galactic Empire that the Emperor and Darth Vader were killed on the Death Star.

A messy situation that Miranda was all too familiar with. It was why the young Tarkin was ordered to meet with Chancellor Anar immediately after the Ministry session was over.

She entered the room where the Chancellor was waiting for her. It always seemed that their paths crossed when difficulty befell the Empire. An unfortunate truth that had yet to be changed .

There was not hint of exhaustion. Her voice was strong and clear. One would have been hard pressed to prove that she had been up since three in the morning. Everything about her exuded professionalism regardless of the lack of sleep. Her hair remained perfectly tied back in a bun and her suit looked hardly worn.

"Chancellor Anar." She offered a nod of respect before cutting right to the chase. "We have much to discuss and very little time to do it. Especially with the declaration of Martial Law you ordered."

[Tear]

The Star destroyer, Minion flee'ing the battle of Endor.

"Kill him now!" Balan Deleuse, an Imperial captain of around fourty or so years of age. His family was well connected and respected in the Civillized world of Coruscant. A family with many friends, favours and debts owed to them. A family with much to lose with only a single male heir.

Bolts of energy ripped through the air, ripping through flesh and durasteel with equal passion. Barrels heated to tempretures that could melt flesh as they spat out enery bolts with fervor. The storm troopers where doing what came with training and programming, following the orders of a superior officer no matter the situation, even if the man was a coward.

"Do not let him get near me!" The aging officer screamed in panic while backing away in the opposite direction of the crimson assailent, who was now cutting a clean path through his men.

A gloved hand thrust outward. The effect would have been equal to having the ship abruptly list to its side, a wave of men were thrown violently to the ground. The moment of recuperation was all he needed.

Tear drew his saber to the mans neck. The man struggled with the laws of gravity as he tried to climb up the nearest bulkhead. It didn't matter the Inquisitor had him cornered.

"You had a very promising career ahead of you Mr.Deleuse. Your family had made sure of it." Tear voice was riddled with redicule and disgust as he spat out his words.

"I had to! Dont you understand!? Running was my only choice! If i die my familys name would have died wit-" A flick of Tear's wrist sent the aging captains head, bouncing, then rolling across the command deck.

As the rest of the captains body sunk toward the durasteel floor, behind Tear, stormtroopers and deck officers alike were picking themselves up off it.

"Your captains dead, by Imperial protocal I am taking command now." Technically Tear could have taken control from the captain at any time but its hard to convince the crew of a crazed captain that your credentials are accurate. Not many are unlucky enough to see the crimson armor of an Inquistor.

A shaky officer slowly rose to his feet, forcing a small nod at his new captain.

"Good. Take this ship back to the battle at Endor." Tear slumped down into the command chair. Leaning forward he noticed something warm drip against the back of his hand, Sniffing, he looked down. Hmph, blood, using the opposite hand he rubbed his nose, a noticible smear of blood was the result. It happens everytime, he thought depressingly, as he pinched his nose trying to stem the bleeding.

But that...ailment was the least of his concerns at the moment. The only goal that was crystal clear in his mind was returning this ship to battle.

The Star destroyer, [i]Minion[i/] was one of the first few destroyers to meet the Rebel attack fleet in the opening moments of battle, It had not faired well. The turning point was the destruction of the Executor. The Minions inexperianced captain fled mere seconds after its destruction and was nearly picked off by the rebels when it broke formation. The ship was crippled in the enusing assault.

Vader knew of the Captains weak will and had Tear stationed there for the very same reason. Sometimes even cowards can be courageous when they have a knife pointed to their back forcing them forward into battle.

"Are the ships sensors back online yet?" Tear questioned as he milled about the damaged bridge. Most of the control consoles had overloaded and blown out, the walls where charred black from various fires that had broken out, electrical wires hung from the ceiling like stalacites from a cave. The bridge personified the current health of the rest of the ship.

"No, but communications are returning....now." A small control panel suddenly lit up with a number of communication hits. The officers face was an array of expressions pausing, as he strained to pick out coherent sentances in a melee of transmissions. Confusion was the next expression that smeared over the stupid mans face, then something else, something Tear had become very familiar with seeing on other peoples faces, Horror.


"What is it? Well? Answer me!" Tear's hand reached out taking the young officer by the neck, lifting him from the communications pit. His hand squeezed tightly, he could feel the vertebrae scraping against each other as the stress on them increased.

Sputtering, the officer managed to gurgle two words. "Empero-...rr...grk...d...dead." Tear dropped the man after his neck made a very audible cracking noise. A expression of calm washed over the Inquisitors face as he knelt down and picked up the comminication earpiece.

The fleet was in disarray scrambling to reorganize itself, pitched arguements were even breaking out between commanders of various ships, utterly unheard of within Imperial ranks. Tear concentrated, he wasnt used to deciphering the amount of transmissions being relayed all at once. The battle station has been crippled, both Vader and the Emperor had been killed...

Tear's dead pan expression suddenly turned into a grim snarl as his lips curled into a grin. They were dead. The only ones who had any control over him where gone now. "Hah!"

"Begin necessary repairs.." Tear smiled, rolling the former captain's head beneath his boot as he laid back into the lush command chair. A small series of chuckles rolled their way from his chest catching the attention of the few remaining deck officers. They stared on in horror as the bridge slowly erupted with the Inquisitor's hysterical laughter

[Tiberius Anar]

"Indeed, though it is the Moffs who ordered it." Some mechanism within his mind led Anar into pedantry- the same mechanism, presumably, that had so carefully chosen his words to the Moffs two hours earlier. "Of course, the implementation of their orders will take some time."

He gestured to the woman to take a seat at the conference table that dominated the room.

"You have been fully briefed?"

A curt nod.

"Good," said the Chancellor, taking his own seat "Your assessment of the situation, please."

[Miranda Tarkin]

Miranda settled into the plush leather chair offered to her, "It will take ample time before Martial Law goes into full affect, however, we've received several reports that a few Moffs have already began to institute this." The Ministry always had their people integrated within all the current governing Moffs staff. A precaution necessary to ensure that the proper image of the Empire was being upheld. In a time of crisis, like current events, information was quickly obtained and transmitted back home to Imperial Center.

"Granted, it will take some time before their decision ripples to nearby systems," she conceeded.

A moment passed to place emphasis on her next words. "Riots have already started because of the law. Small and containable, but I sense our people growing restless in general. They need answers."

She threw the folder she was carrying onto the table and slid it towards Anar. The seal of the Ministry of Propaganda graced the cover. "We need to make an announcement quickly before word leaks out. Our initial damage assessment is within. It ranges in the billions, further on up into the trillions if we do not handle this appropriately."

A hint of sadness leaked into her voice, "This will not be easy. Not like before."

Anar knew what Miranda referred to. The destruction of the first Death Star.

[Tiberius Anar]

Had Anar been a different man- a softer man, a more caring man, a weaker man- he might have made some sympathetic comment. This must, he realised be a very hard time for this young woman. But Anar was not that sort of man and sympathy would be of little help to a woman like Miranda Tarkin, so he chose to kep the focus upon business.

"Swift action would seem called for, yes. You have," he said without opening the folder, "a plan I take it?"

He had a good idea that there would be some sort of plan, perhaps even a draft speech, inside. No really good operator would come into a meeting like this with a suggestion but no idea how to carry it out.

Let's see how good she is...

[Miranda Tarkin]

"Of course." Confidence returned with her smile. The hint of weakness was nothing more then a slip. "Inside is the speech I wrote. It is merely a draft for your perusal, however, the Ministry is eagerly waiting to hear that you've approved it."

The last part of the meeting was a brainstorming session on how to inform the citizens of the distressing news. Miranda had sat in silence for a good hour while the others deliberated. Her colleagues knew better then to bother her while she was dissecting the problem. She was listening to the ideas being tossed about, but Miranda was also attempting to find a plausible solution at the same time.

What she ended up with, as Dialessce commented, was genius.

"It begins with our victory at Endor. How we have arrested and or killed many high-ranking Rebel traitors."

With each name spoken, a finger extended to count the Empire's victories. "General Han Solo. Princess Organa. General Lando Calrissian ... I know mentioning their names can produce a possible martyrdom, but using their titles will keep it focused on the fact that this was a military campaign initiated by them. Which leads us to our Emperor. Killed in the attack by a terrible plot that he had not foreseen. For how could he? Lord Vader had wiped them all out of existence.

The Jedi."

Miranda's lip curled. The Ministry hadn't even toyed with the idea until she focused on the possible events that led to Palpatine's death. Skywalker had turned himself into Vader on Endor and was then ordered to bring him before the Emperor.

Regardless of what really happened, Miranda hypothesized a probable conclusion, which would then become fact. The history books would say so. "Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight, assassinated Emperor Palpatine. Obi-Wan Kenobi, a survivor of the purge, twisted his vulnerable mind. Though Vader himself killed the old Jedi Master, the damage had already been done. Skywalker took it upon himself to finish what the Jedi tried to do decades ago. Murder our beloved Emperor and kill Vader as revenge for the death of his own Master.

This proves that Palpatine was correct in hunting down the Jedi Order. They hold no loyalty but to themselves and their own power and are threatened by those who have it. Palpatine only wanted peace, and we shall have it again by making sure that the Jedi are destroyed this time for good. Our Inquisitors shall see to it and succeed where Vader had failed."

She leaned forward and brought up a display of the Death Star before it was damaged. "The Rebels had forced the Empire into forgetting what was truly important. Our people. We musn't forget them."

Now, green lights began to break apart leaving the Death Star in its current damaged state. "The cost of repairing the battle station," she shook her head with a deep sigh, "it's far worse then the projections of the riots. Our people will be both physically and emotionally damaged from what Endor has lost us. This is not once, but twice, that blasted project has cost us favor with our citizens."

She keyed off the display and settled back into her chair again. "To rectify this mess, I proposed dismantling the thing and using it to repair the fleet. A lot of the structure and equipment are salvageable. Not to mention relocating the survivors where they are needed, possibly even sending some of them home to their families. So they can heal." She shrugged, "That is really up to you, Chancellor. But I think it would be a most positive note to end on. A symbol of a new Empire focusing on the foundations it was created upon instead of creating technological terrors that cause death, chaos and uncertainty."

And there it was. Miranda's proposed plan of action. Hopefully it would be in just as high favor as it was with the Ministry. Truthfully, it had been a long day for her and it wasn't even noon yet. She was not looking forward to redoing everything if Anar didn't approve.

But, she had a hunch that Anar loved every part of it.

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar had listened to her presentation with wrapped attention. It was an exquisitely cunning plan, but obviously he could not say that to her. Such high praise for a first effort might inflate her ego or it might make him appear weak. Over-praise, in his opinion, was a sign of weakness.

He allowed a few moments to rendering judgement on her plan, "Good."

His eyes were locked on her's to see how she greeted this assessment. He fancied that he detected a flicker of...pride or was it, perhaps, disappointment? No pride, definitely, pride.

"But," he allowed this word to hang in the air between them, "there is one small flaw."

She did not flinch, she did not bat an eyelid. How steely nerved was she to hear such a thing said by him and not show the slightest discomfort.

"We have yet to win the battle at Endor and," he was confident the Empire would win the battle but felt he ought to say this anyway, "what if we do not?"

It was another test, of course. Had she a contingency plan, like a good operator and if she did not could she improvise one like a really good operator? He watched her carefully as she responded.

[Miranda Tarkin]

Miranda locked eyes with the Chancellor. He liked the idea. She could see it in his eyes, but he wanted to push her to the limits even though both knew the Empire would be victorious at Endor. Anar was merely testing her and a Tarkin never backed down from a challenge. She had a contingency plan ready for Anar, it was just not written out. It was not beneficial for Miranda to waste her time preparing another speech when time wasn't on her side, nor the Empire's.

"I was present when the Grand Admirals had given their report to the Cabinet and explained how the rest of the battle would be played out." She didn't miss a beat in answering the question raised. "We're going to win, Chancellor." Miranda knew that was true. So did Anar.

"But, in the unlikely event that the Rebels manage to win by some miraculous feat, the meat of the current proposal stays. Only it needs a bit of ... adjusting. Instead of victory, we were defeated by the Rebels who murdered our own people in a sneak attack against the Death Star. The cowardly Rebellion destroyed an unfinished battle station that housed thousands of innocent civilians who were only doing their jobs. There's obviously no salvaging of the battle station, but we can keep the focus on our people's needs. Sending the survivors home that wish it and inform our people that the Imperial Navy managed to kill several high ranking Rebels. The Emperor's death did not, and shall not go unanswered."

She paused, not wishing to repeat herself for the benefit of Anar, who was quite capable of concluding the rest of the doubtful announcement. "You can see how it would go from there, yes?"

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar nodded his approval, "Good. I shall want the text ready for release as soon as we have confirmation from he admiral commanding the fleet at Endor that the Rebels have been beaten," he got to his feet signalling the end of the meeting, "Hopefully his report will arrive before the news leaks"

They exchanged goodbyes and Tarkin took her leave of the Chancellor. But the hope that the news would not leak was a futile one. Already the Rebels were working to ensure that it did just that...

(OOC: the next post is reserved for Chase Merik)

[Chase Merik]

Corellia

Dawn arrived quietly in Tyrena, bathing the western seaboard city in a hazy orange glow. The light was more subdued than most mornings, obscured by a distant ocean storm, but with little sign of it coming to shore. The sky was dotted with only an occassional commuter at this hour, most gathering downtown or around the fishing wharfs.

It was the kind of morning that the people of the lush, golden planet had become accustomed to. No matter what the state of the galaxy, their world flourished. Anyone who could claim to be born here did so with pride. Their sector was the gateway to the stars.

Theirs was the home of the galaxy's most adventerous souls. It was Corellians who first dared to chart hyperspace beyond the Colonies. It was Corellians who pioneered the establishment of the Old Republic. And it was Corellia that gave birth to the Rebel Alliance. Yet because of their strategic position and expertise in starship engineering, they remained in the Empire more or less under their own terms.

Imperial presence was felt, of course, as it was in any Core system. Although instating a Moff had led to the resignation of their most popular senator, the system's local government made their loyalty to the Galactic Empire clear. Although their newest governor made some citizens nervous, they still lived with the unspoken confidence that the Empire would never dare attempt to impose state control over such a strong willed people.

This morning, that silence was broken by the piercing whine of a repulsorlift engine. Then another. The few pedestrians already awake stopped with genuine confusion and a hint of alarm at the cause of the disturbance. The lead was a CorSec tactical hovervan. The second, an Imperial troop transport.

(OOC: To be continued)

[Darth Decepis]

A holographic message was received by one of the receptionist adjuctants at the Imperial Palace. The transmission had not determinal origin, which was not in itself unusual with the latest Holonet tranceivers. The adjuctant on duty addressed the originator as protocol demanded.

"This is the office of the Imperial Chancellory. What is the nature of this comm transmission?"

The hologram was an artificial shadow of dark robes. A faceless being.

"I wish to speak with the Chancellor, immediately."

The adjuctant seemed to scoff at the hologram. Such audacity. One does not simply link up and talk directly to one of the most powerful men in the Galactic Empire.

"The Chancellor is a very busy man. I am afraid he is indisposed. Perhaps I can transcribe a message, which will be delivered to the Chancellor's office in due time?"

There was a pause.

"You will connect me with the Chancellor now."

It all seemed to make sense to the adjuctant. Obviously this was a person of some importance that he could not immediately discern. Such matters were above him.

"Of course. I will connect you with the Chancellor now."

Did the shadow just smile, on the edge of the darkness beneath his hood? It could have been transmission interference.

"Very good. You are a great boon to the Empire, my friend."

"Who, shall I say, is requesting contact?"

"You won't." was the shadow's blunt reply. "Connect me now."

"Of course. At once."

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar poring over the draft of the announcement. It really was quite excellent. He would be sure to consult Tarkin in the future.

His conemplation of the text was interrupted by the beep of his comm. He keyed it with a curt, "Yes?"

"Sir, there is an urgent call coming through."

Making the not unreasonable assumption that this would be the admiral commanding at Endor, Anar barked, "Well put it through then!"

"Yes sir."

The Imperial Chancellor was, understandably, surprised when the small holo image that resolved itself on his desktop viewer turned out to be a a dark robed figure rather than a grey uniformed one.

[Darth Decepis]

"Chancellor Anar." The shadow began with proper salutations.

"I come to you in the Empire's most desperate hour. The rebellion has struck you critically, and I fear it is only the beginning. Your leadership will soon become more important than you can possibly know."

[Darth Stratus]

Deep within the halls of the Empires Intelligence headquarters in Cloud City the messages passing though were perhaps unimaginable. Thousands of communications were flooding through one of The Inquisitoriate frontal enclaves and the staff within the central communications chamber were barely keeping up with the sheer number.

The room was dark, the only light sources were from the computer screens themselves, turning the room into a hue of faboulous different colors. Standing within the centre, seemingly turned into a silhouette byt the moniters light was a heavily robed figure, his face hidden from view, but his head moving slowly, scanning the screens infront of him and to his left and right.

' My Lord, word from Endor-' Said a ensign to the figures left, the shadowy head of the silhouette snapped in the direction with interest, this time the light shone brightly on the mask of the figure, blood red it was with only a slit for the weilder to view through.

' We have lost the deathstar My Lord, and the Emporer with it, word on how is sketchy My Lord but we are still recieving several communications about the battle and several accounts contridict the other, it may take some time-'

' Time?' The figure said, his voice low and with the soft purr of a feline. ' What time do you suppose we have Ensign?' The young recruit recoiled slightly from the gaze of Darth Stratus, it was a notorous rumour that his gaze could destroy a mans confidence in one swipe.

To his left an officer stepped fourth.

' Commander, prepare my ship, im leaving to see the Chancellor'

Yes, Lord Stratus

[Chase Merik]

Corellia

Both speedervans came to a sudden halt in front of alley. The side doors popped open with a loud hiss even before the transport's momentum had caught up with its brakes. By the time the vehicle had settled to a rest, the doors had widened enough for a sea of Stormtroopers to pour out.

Gray clad CorSec and ISA agents quickly emerged from both vans, fanning out with military precision onto the street.

"That's the building?" a rugged faced, blonde Imperial officer barked at one of the CorSec agents. Lt. Merik was clearly in no mood for the usual pretense. He'd been roused from a comfy bed an hour ago to find out his whole division was on high alert.

"Yeah, but..."

"Is. That. The building?" he repeated, narrowing his cybernetic eyes. The metallic implants looked more like goggles than human eyes, adding a new dimension when he glowered at a suspect or a subordinate. The CorSec detective scowled and nodded. Merik pointed, and the sea of white charged into the dead-end alley.

"How well you cooperate will determine how well I word my report to Imperial Center, Sergeant," the blonde Imperial said coldly. "I'm curious how they'd react to the fact that this Rebel cell somehow managed to find it's way to the bottom of your case list for so long." The CorSec agent bit the inside of his cheek.

"But as of now, it's out of your jurisdiction. You have your oders." The gruff statement almost sounded out of sorts without the accent and formality usually associated with most Imperial officers. He didn't come from the same aristocratic stock as his peers.

Blaster fire echoed from the building. Green and red bolts splashed against the alley walls through several windows, adding shouts of panic to the mix.

"Why are you doing this?" the CorSec agent blurted out. Merik spun a stern gaze on him. The other officers turned on the same cue with similar accusing looks.

"Not this," he quickly corrected, flailing at the building. "Martial law? Are you people insane. We haven't given you any cause to--"

"You're here to help with the transition, Detective. Not to question orders. You don't need to know 'why' any more than I do. You have a problem with the assignment, I'm sure we can find something else for you to do."

At that, another officer approached. He was taller, with black hair and a commanding presence that was reflected by more than just the red and blue bar on his uniform.

"The Empire appreciates your continued cooperation, Officer Kelz"

"Yes, sir," the detective replied flatly.

[Chase Merik]

Merik turned toward the building as two Stormtroopers walked out.

"Sir, resistance was minimal. But the place is empty. We found some datastations, but they've been wiped. No other equipment or weapons."

"Dammit!" Merik snapped. He pivoted on his heel, throwing a glare at their CorSec guides before going into the building himself.

The trooper was right. There were telltale signs of use, but the building was deserted. Judging by the random empty crates and datapads, it was abandoned very quickly. Merik fixed his gaze on a damaged terminal. He scowled at the readings from his optical scanners. The datadrive and mainboard were completely fused.

He straightened as his Commander walked up beside him. "I've given the signal to deploy," he stated calmly. "Coronet City is already secured. We need to get the smaller starports locked down."

"Sir, with all due respect," Merik asked in a hushed tone. "Why are we doing this? Does Command really think it's worth trying to control these people when--"

"These people, Lieutenant?" the elder Imperial asked curiously. "You don't consider yourself Corellian anymore."

Merik paused, setting his jaw and continuing to scan over the room. "Of course I do, sir. But that's the whole point. That's how I know how difficult it will be to maintain this level of control here."

The Commander did not react outwardly. In the strictest patriotic sense, it was not the right answer. But it was an honest one. He looked at the troops, keeping up the appearance of business as usual.

"We traced a bandwidth leak to this location. The rebels had intercepted a Level 1 communique to Governor Parr."

"What did it say?"

The Commander took a measured breath. "The Emporer is dead." The words hit Merik like a turbolaser. Behind his opaque metallic eyes, his receptors shifted every direction as his mind tried to process the news.

If that wasn't enough, then came the kicker. "So's Vader."

"They tried to get a transmission off, but we had a lock on them by then. We're still trying to figure out how they decrypted a priority command signal so fast to begin with."

"Sir," Lt. Merik cut in. "Kor Vella is going to need an advance team to coordinate with local authorities. They have a sizeable transit station that we'll need to lock down if you want to insure martial law is enforced."

The Commander considered this hesitantly. And Merik knew why. "I know Parr doesn't have enough Stormtroopers to cover every city. I worked out of that office when I was in CorSec. I can get them on board without you needing to split our resources thinner than they already are."

"Very well," the Commander replied. He saw the younger officer in a new light, wishing more of his men had this level of creative thinking and dedication. "Tell your Captain. Consider it cleared."

"Sir." Merik nodded curtly and headed out.

[Yun Tilgraze]

Deep Space, just outside the Sullust System

Captain Yun Tilgraze sat in a briefing room aboard Home One, rubbing his temple. The headache he was trying to suppress started the moment they heard the reports that the Death Star shield generator was still up. It had abated when the Executor went down, then spiked again when they lost contact with the Millenium Falcon.

It wasn't the most boneheaded strategy he'd been part of, but it was easily the biggest gamble in military history. In the larger sense, it paid off. They managed to destroy the weapon systems and gut the infrastructure of the station. The gurreck's share of the fleet still managed to limp home. But they had far too many fighter pilots unaccounted for, including Wedge Antilles.

And General Solo, Leia Organna. And Skywalker. At this point it was safe to say the Force was not with them.

The Alliance was in full blown disaster mode. The frenzied techs outside trying to keep the flagship together wasn't helping his headache. And to top it all off, the had just finished assembling a last minute security detail and operations plan for Mon Mothma, who had to choose NOW to search for her former co-conspirator's splinter group to help rebuild the fleet.

That left her right-hand man, Mon Razien in charge of a Rebellion that was --at the risk of sounding too dramatic-- almost literally on the verge of collapse.

The holovid on his desk flashed to life. "Captain, we have mail."

The pounding in his head spiked again. In the middle of all this madness, he had doubts that "mail", Intel's code word for a double-agent transmission, would improve his disposition.

"Put it through," he responded. The holovid flickered to a series of equalizer graphs. It was a voice-only transmission. The filtered voice came through after a complex series of tones. Yun raised an eyebrow at the seemingly random pulses that continued. The signal had at least 2 more layers of encryption than standard.

"Gundark to Ranger. Passcode Trillian Vector March. Ranger... The Empire has invoked martial law. Corellia has already mobilized. The reason..."

The voice hesitated for the briefest of seconds. Yun's posture straightened a bit. For the Empire to do something this drastic, maybe they were hit harder than anyone thought.

"The Emporer is dead. He and Vader were killed on the Death Star. The Moffs are fearing riots. However you plan to act on this, do it fast. Some systems will be locked down within an hour. Gundark out."

Tilgraze quickly entered a command sequence on his terminal, dowloading the message and executing a backtrace to wipe any residual evidence of the transmission. With a single motion he swiped the datacard and marched out of the room.

[Yun Tilgraze]

There were other factors to the declaration. He knew there had to be. It was obvious the Empire had dedicated a ridiculous portion of their fleet to Endor. Plus the only people who could have possibly known the fate of the Emporer and Vader were on the Death Star. For word to spread this quickly meant the Empire had more moles in their ranks than they could account for. Hopefully even more defectors. The combination of elements apparantly put them into an even bigger panic than the Alliance was in.

The doors of the main briefing room slid open to a chorus of angry shouts. Half the room was on their feet, pointing and waving fists in every direction. Mon Razien, in stark contrast, stood calmly, leaning forward and focusing intently on a holovid in the center of the conference table.

Recaping our top story, a sneak attack on an Imperial space station by rebel insurgents has disabled the station and destoyed a number of Imperial ships. But more importantly, rumors are leaking out from various sources that the Emperor, who was touring the station at the time, was killed in the attack.

"Where is this broadcast coming from?"
"What systems are getting it?"
"How the frell did the media get this!?"
"Is this confirmed?"

"Why are we hearing about this on the NEWS?!" someone shouted over the cacaphony.

Mon Razien took a deep breath. "We clearly hit them harder than you thought, Admiral. If General Cracken had some kind of misinformation plan in effect, he'd have told me."

"But is it true?" another officer shouted.

"Yes!" Yun shouted even louder, but it still wasn't enough. He looked over at Razien with an almost pleading look. Suddenly a horrendous claxon sounded in the room, then quickly faded.

"Yes. It's true." Tilgraze face the gathered leaders in the welcomed silence.

"I just received confirmation from one of our imbedded agents. Palpatine and Darth Vader are dead. The state of the fleet is unconfirmed, but the fact that they just declared martial law suggests that we should take a new look at our damage projections."

The activity level in the room returned, but the conversations were dramatically more hushed then before as they absorbed the news. Of all of their contigency plans, dealing with martial law was not among them.

Mon Razien stood tall and drew the attention of the room with a simple look. Mon Mothma had trained him well.

"The mission was a success, gentlemen. At high cost, but a success nonetheless. We never pretended this mission would end the war despite it's scope. Now we must act quickly to take advantage. So the question is, where do we go from here?"

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar's immediate reaction upon realising that this figure did not belong on his holoplate, was to reach for the cut off switch. The caller's words, however, stayed his hand.

"I come to you in the Empire's most desperate hour. The rebellion has struck you critically, and I fear it is only the beginning. Your leadership will soon become more important than you can possibly know."

His hand retreated from the switch. What did this person know and how? "Who are you to judge the Empire's situation?"

[Darth Decepis]

The hologram almost seemed to smile beneath his deep hood.

"One to be regarded as a peer of your late Emperor."

Anar's expression may or may not have changed in the slightest of measures. Either way, the hologram knew his mind.

"Ah yes. I know of it as well. Even as you seek to conceal it from those who wish to destroy you."

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar's surprise manifested itself, momentarily, in an involuntary twitching of his facial muscles. Composing himself quickly enough that most people would not have noticed, he eyed the hologram impassively.

"I have not seen you amongst those chosen by my master for the privilege of his company," he said, not confirming the death of the Emperor to this, this stranger, "Yet you claim to be his peer. What proof of this can you offer?"

[Darth Decepis]

"Your adjuctant's life."

The timbre of the Dark Lord's voice turned to gravel. If the Chancellor had the audacity to question him now, he would lose it soon.

"Go to him now, and witness as I take it. That will be your proof."

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar stared at the hologram, what in the worlds? This was ridiculous. No-one could reach a person- even a lowly secretary- within the walls of the Imperial Palace. But a tingling in the back of his mind hinted at his doubt, and as if to dispell this he went to the door of his office and looked out into the staff area beyond.

"Lanik," he called.

"Yes, sir?" asked the comm operator turning to answer the call of his master, "How may I..."

He got no further.

[Darth Decepis]

The air left Lanik's lungs with a punctuated gasp, leaving the secretary clutching at his neck. He began to turn a shade of red, which turned purple seconds later.

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar's reaction would have surpirsed some. He seemd for all the world not to care. It was almost as if the spontaneous strangulation of his staff was a day-to-day occurance to which he was accustomed. In a sense it was- if one had regular dealings with Lord Vader over a long enough period one was likely to see choking staffers.

But Lord Vader was not here. He was not, in fact, anywhere. This was being done by another, the person whose reduced size image stood on the desk behind him. The person who claimed and who, based upon this display of power, had some connection to Palpatine.

"You've made your point," he called back into the room, "release him please."

[Darth Decepis]

The silence was punctuated by a loud gasp from Lanik, who collapsed to the ground in a series of deep breaths.

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar motioned to the other staff in the office, indicating that they should help Lanik. He waited to see two of the secretaries move towards the poor, spluttering wretch then turned smartly on his heal back into his own office.

He resumed his seat saying lightly, "A rather dramatic proof and one that has caught my attention."

[Darth Decepis]

"I would suggest not asking for my credentials again, Chancellor. Are you prepared to do your duty for the Empire?"

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar raised an eyebrow, "I have done nothing more nor less than my duty for the Empire for the last fifteen years. What is it to you whether this is the case or not?"