Assault on Fatasshi

[Darth Viscera]

He listened as the turbolift doors swished open, sensed the fervency inherent in those crimson-clad Imperial guards, as they briefly questioned this new visitor, then withdrew to their posts, resumed their task of acting as sentinels, guardians of the Diktat. The command chair swiveled around, and Darth Viscera laid eyes on none other than Brevet Grand Admiral Daemon Hyfe.

"Leave us," he commanded, motioning to the guards, who disappeared inside their sentry boxes behind the turbolift's shaft.

He pressed two buttons on his command chair, and the large holographic image of a planet was displayed. The image was blurry, but hardly beyond recognition. Several aspects of the planet, such as the urban centers, the perpetual line of orbiting civilian vessels, and the small orbiting Plantare moon were clearly visible.

"Fatasshi," he began, and paused for effect. "An image provided us by the Borleian keyhole matrix. The sensor resolution is low because the planet is three thousand parsecs outside the standard matrix range. Modifications were needed."

"The planet commands the hyperlanes which supply the Hapan and Carshoulis clusters, Mon Calamari, Kashyyk, Kuat and Bothawui, as well as many other, less noteworthy planets just inside Hutt space, and along our borders with the Corporate Sector. It is a vital transshipment point." He looked away from the holo-image, his eyes gradually meeting Hyfe's directly, and then Viscera seemed to stare through him.

"I want you to take it."

There was a noticeable pause before Viscera spoke again.

"I am making your brevet official. High Admiral Hyfe, you are now a Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy. You will find your new uniform laid out for you in you quarters. You should wear it. It seems to have a noticeable effect on crew morale."

[Gormul Hyfe]

Daemon Hyfe stood silently before his Emperor, the Lord Darth Viscera, quite taken aback by this precipitous news – although his face surely did not show it. He had been intently examining the blurry holographic image of the planet Fatasshi while Viscera spoke, but at the news of his promotion to the highest attainable rank in the Imperial Navy, he had snapped his attention back to the Emperor. The glimmer in his eyes was the only inkling of his excitement; a feeling which curdled around in his stomach, making him feel like a mere child. He didn’t enjoy it at all - excitement. By the time Viscera had finished speaking, ending with what seemed to be a dismissal, he had subdued the feeling, bringing it back under control. And then he let out a sinister smile as he met eyes with his master.

"I cannot even begin to express the depths of my gratitude, my Lord," Daemon began with all the respect he could muster into his gravely voice, adding a slight bow as if it to further express his appreciation.

"There is no need, Grand Admiral," Viscera began boldly. "All the thanks required is your continued dutiful service to the Empire. Do not fail me, Admiral Hyfe."

"I will not, my Lord. Fatasshi will be ours... along with hundreds of other planets and systems to come," Daemon assured him.

Viscera nodded, pleased with this remark. Daemon could sense the Diktat’s calm aura. He did not doubt Daemons sincerity. They stood silent for a moment, two cloaked figures examining each other with the utmost respect. For a very long time Daemon had been waiting for this moment, playing it out in his head. He had always known deep down that the day would come.

Finally, Daemons voice broke the odd silence reaching into the furthest corners of the large throne room. "Will you be staying aboard the Pandemonium to oversee the assault, or should I prepare a shuttle to take you back to the sector fleet?"

"No, I think I will stay aboard. I expect this to be quite a show, Grand Admiral. Besides, I quite like these accommodations," Viscera remarked, gesturing widely to the large throne room. It was quite a sight indeed. A vast command platform overlooked the dimly-lit chamber, with stairs leading down to the lower level, which housed various consoles that reached into the echelons beneath the platform on which they stood. Catwalks stretched out from the upper level, leading into small side chambers, whose contents even Daemon himself was unawares. A large circular view port graced the region behind the Emperors command chair, revealing the huge Reserve Armada gathered around them. The whole room was actually a close rendition of the very throne room aboard the second Death Star.

Just recently, the flagship of each of the Empires fleets had been equipped with one of these throne rooms. A command room built aboard each flagship for the commander of each fleet had been standard procedure for quite some time now, but this was a new practice – having a room solely for the Emperor on his visits. This particular throne room occupied the uppermost regions of the Super Star Destroyer Pandemonium, serving as a place for the Diktat to preside on the occasions when he graced the Reserve Armada with his presence. It was only to be occupied by Viscera himself, his guards, and a visitor on the special occasion when he summoned someone to his chambers to speak with them in person, such as the occasion Daemon found himself in now.

Bringing his attention back to Viscera, an intriguing thought came to mind: was this perhaps a test? Why would Viscera want to stay onboard for a simple planetary takeover? Surely he wasn’t staying merely for his own amusement. Perhaps Viscera still did not fully trust him...

Daemon quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. It would be too easy for Viscera to pick up on this thought, if he had not already. He certainly hoped not...

"Mission objectives and preliminary data have been transferred to the ships computer," Viscera began. "You may take the planet however you wish, although minimal planetary damage would be ideal."

"Yes, my Lord," Daemon replied, and then paused. "I would ask for twelve hours to prepare for the assault, if that is acceptable...?"


<h6>OOC: This post was meant to be by Daemon Hyfe. Damn those multiple accounts!</h6>

[Darth Viscera]

"It is acceptable," Viscera replied, his voice remaining neutral.

"I have placed a great deal of trust in your abilities. Do not fail me, Admiral. The Emperor does not tolerate such things, and I will not put myself in a position such that I would have to explain a new blunder to him," he mused.

[Daemon Hyfe]

“Yes, my Lord,” Daemon replied. “Your faith in me is well placed, Diktat Viscera. You shall not be disappointed. In time, I will bring great glory to the Empire, to you,” he paused, “…and to the Emperor,” he finished awkwardly.

He had almost forgotten about Viscera’s… delusions. Supposedly the Emperor appears to him in visions, or dreams, commanding him in the final legacy of the Empire. There was no doubt in Daemon’s mind that there was something not right in Viscera’s head, but he was a good ruler nonetheless, and his loyalty would remain with him always.

“I will report to you personally every four hours to let you know how the planning proceeds. Continual battle progression statistics will be fed through to you once the action starts, my lord,” Daemon said. “Fatasshi will be ours.” He took a step back, straightened, and gave a slight bow. “For the glory of the Empire,” he said conclusively.

From his command chair, Viscera nodded, and said nothing more.

[Daemon Hyfe]

<h6><font color="gray">11 hours, 49 minutes before attack</font></h6>The bridge of an Imperial Super Star Destroyer is quite a sight indeed - a multi-level command sanction of what is undoubtedly one of the galaxy’s most powerful warships in existence. It is the heart of what is truly an Imperial icon, demonstrating the Empire’s full power and domination over the galaxy; a symbol of the order the Empire has brought to a place where none existed.

Dozens of comm stations, nav stations, sensor readouts, and engineering monitors boasted top-of-the-line Imperial Navy equipment, and the highly trained officers working the bridge brought out the best in these advanced technical systems.

Crewer after crewer occupied the bustling lower level pit beneath the command walkway down which the Grand Admiral strode. Each of the young officers attempted to hide their curious glances up at him by busying themselves with their various duties as he walked by.

Grand Admiral Daemon Hyfe finished his observatory sweep of the central crew pit, coming to a halt at the main view port, near the end of the command walkway. He straightened his poise as he brought his attention in full to the middle-aged man standing perfectly erect before him.

The man facing him looked over Daemon’s spotless white uniform, noting the gold epaulets upon his shoulders and the full rectangular rank bar on his left breast, letting a sincere smile etch itself upon his face. “Congratulations, Grand Admiral,” the man said respectfully.

“Thank you, Captain,” Daemon replied evenly to the officer.

Essian, the Captain of this Super Star Destroyer, the Pandemonium, was a middle-aged man of medium build, his weight slowly packing on with the passing of years. He proudly wore his brown military uniform, which contrasted with the pure white of the Grand Admiral’s. His awards were clearly displayed, and his boots were polished to a shine, making his attire quite neat and tidy. Mildly graying, curly black hair padded his head, and he donned a shortly trimmed beard, which accentuated the fine lines covering his aging face. Deep cut eyes of shimmering blue and a scar on his chin gave him a roguish look, but his military stature was quite evident nonetheless.

“Anything to report?” Daemon asked, quickly straying from the subject of his promotion.

“Nothing, sir. All ships continue to report in at the designated time. Both flotillas are remaining in standard formation, awaiting orders. No problems have been reported,” Essian assured him with his usual air confidence.

“Good. Diktat Viscera has given us a new assignment,” Daemon announced, sparking the Captain’s interest, as well as the interest of several other nearby duty officers within close enough range to hear their discussion. The nearby crewers stood animated for a moment, and then quickly returned to their work as they realized they had just been exposed for possible blatant eavesdropping. The Grand Admiral merely smiled.

Essian paused for a moment, but then his voice rang out eagerly: “What’s the assignment?” adding a weak ‘sir’ to the end of his question a fraction of a second later, after realizing he had been caught up in the excitement.

“The planetary assault of Fatasshi. A clean takeover,” Daemon replied boldly.

[Keerrourri Sarrtarroa]

Around the same time, a sublight convoy was being deployed from the Carshoulis cluster. Escorted by seven Seeva interdictory gunships and a Korri class battlecruiser, the convoy consisted of a wide assortment of freighters, each belonging to a different corporation which had signed on with the Pride's government for escorted transit to their trading zones. In all, there were 22 freighters, varying from the small-capacity to bulk cargo ships. In accordance with their contract to the Cizerack Hunter Fleet, the corporate ships would be provided military escort through the main trade corridors. The first of which was the trade mecca of Fatasshi. From there, the escorts would split up, protecting individual ships or groups of ships bound to a common port of call. Some were non-aligned worlds, some New Republic, some Imperial.

Because the Pride had no overriding governmental concern over the trade of individual corporations, they weren't flagged as a priority escort by a line of hyperdrive-equipped battlecruisers. The escorts (with the exception of the single battlecruiser) carried no hyperdrive, and most of the freighters were without one as well. Therefore, the convoy traveled in realspace, heading towards Fatasshi.

Onboard the battlecruiser Raurrssa'Iro'Iro, Huntress Captain Ulaarri Arroussa kept the vigil, monitoring messages from the Pride as she protected her wards, bound for Fatasshi. She ordered two gunships to maneuver ahead of the flotilla, monitoring for damnable pirates.

The Cizerack held a deep hatred for pirates, and were notorious for carrying out their vexations on any of the cutthroats they caught. More than once, the Pride had captured a pirate ship, and had their criminal crews disemboweled alive. For a race that thrived on interstellar trade, they were overwhelmingly brutal against those bound to interrupt their trading.

Therefore, the major concern on Captain Arroussa's mind was the ever-present possiblility of pirate attack. Her blue eyes were sharp as she watched the sensor readouts...ready for the unexpected.

[Daemon Hyfe]

<font color="gray">45 minutes later<h6>(11 hours, 4 minutes before attack)</h6></font>The Grand Admiral continued down the corridor leading into the bridge, past the aft bridge hologram pods and the small storage closets (at least that's what he took them to be, he had never actually entered one). The corridor came to an end and Daemon found himself suddenly in the vast openness of the SSD's bridge. Officers were hurrying about, giving orders and tending to their duties, and the clicks and beeps of various consoles could be heard, adding to the familiar environment of the bridge. Not stopping as he entered the bridge, he strode towards his command chair a few meters short of the central command walkway.

"Grand Admiral on deck!" a voice shouted from off to his right, Captain Essian’s undoubtedly, as Daemon strode onwards.

As Daemon neared his chair, he gave his usual simple hand gesture, his "at ease" signal. The crew quickly returned to their duties as he rounded his chair, noticing the Captain approaching him with hands clasped behind his back.

"Admiral," the Captain greeted as Daemon eased into his seat, dropping a small data card onto his left armrest. He looked to the Captain and returned the greeting with a nod, with this same gesture also letting the Captain know to report.

"I've carried out your orders, sir," he began flatly, black gloved hands still clasped behind his back. "The Armada has been divided into the three groups requested, and Rear Admiral Hayt has been informed of the meeting."

"Good," Daemon replied simply. He took up the data card from his left armrest which he had been fiddling with. He handed it to the Captain, said: "The data card contains further information on the battle plans I’ve come up with so far, as well as additional orders. Review the information carefully."

"Of course, sir," Essian said.

Daemon glanced out the main view port at the starry void of space around them, then: "I think I’ll oversee things here for a bit before I return to my command room for further planning,".

"Yes sir," came the reply.

"Tend to your duties, Captain," Daemon said in dismissal.

Captain Essian nodded, almost a bow, then turned and headed back to his console.

[Davin Essian]

<font color="gray">56 minutes later <h6>(10 hours, 10 minutes before attack)</h6></font>The replies came in one at a time, each of the five group leaders of Attack Force C acknowledging their newest orders in the standard Imperial manner. Essian glanced once more at the fleet listing scrawling across the technical readout on his right with his questioning blue eyes. Each of the Reserve Armada’s ships now had their orders, he knew. The bitter aging lines at the corners of his mouth showing through the fringe of his closely shaved beard curled up in a smile of satisfaction. The planning was progressing at a commendable speed.

Essian checked the chronometer at his station. The Grand Admiral would be back from his personal quarters soon with more news on the specifics of the assault. A good thing too, Essian told himself. He still knew very little about the Admiral’s plans for this operation. One of the few things that had been made clear to him was that this would not be a standard Imperial raid. The Assault on Fatasshi was to be more of an intricately planned and uncannily efficient planetary takeover, of which he knew the Grand Admiral was quite capable; a type of demonstration to the whole galaxy how a real planetary takeover should be run. And how cleanly the Empire was capable of carrying out this kind of an operation. From what he had gathered from the briefing information loaded into the ships computer by the Diktat, he now understood that this operation also had more goals than the addition of Fatasshi to the Empire’s grasp. It would in addition be a testing ground for several of the Empire’s newer technological developments. Here would be the Empire’s first chance to put some of their newly developed devices to good use. The Admiral had made quite clear his desire to demonstrate especially to all the Empire’s rival factions just how effective this new technology, combined with the command of an efficient leader could be.

As Essian looked to the small holographic image of the well-industrialized planet floating in front of the Grand Admirals empty command chair, he knew that Fatasshi was to be the first of many worlds to witness the technological power and tactical genius the Empire continued to develop. Yes, Essian decided to himself, this was a more important mission than most realized.

[Daemon Hyfe]

<font color="gray">58 minutes later <h6>(9 hours, 12 minutes before attack)</h6></font>The ready room aboard the SSD Pandemonium seemed cramped, tiny in comparison to the grandeur of the bridge from which he had just come. Perhaps that was partly due to the room’s low roof structure or it's lack of view ports, Grand Admiral Daemon Hyfe noted. This seemingly cramped atmosphere actually betrayed the room’s moderate size.

It was a simple 10 by 15 meter room with a large oval table taking up most of the available space. A narrow counter mounted on the far wall held various art pieces, with bottles containing some of the Grand Admiral's favorite vintage alcoholic beverages scattered amongst the sculptures and other ornamental pieces.

A small silver tray had been placed in the middle of the central table beforehand. It held an intricately designed glass decanter containing a fruity choholl, most likely Cassadran liquor from the scent. In the ways of his training, Daemon could smell the liquor from his seat at the far head of the table with ease. Several small snifters resided aside the decanter, a few of the glasses having taken up positions in front of some of the occupants seated at the table, letting him know that they had already helped themselves. He took note of those who had.

The men (and woman) in the room were each engaged in small talk, divided into parties of two or three, discussing things to their interest. He knew he could isolate and listen in on the conversation of any of the groups if he so desired, but their private chatter was of no particular interest to him. Seven of the eight seats stationed around the table had been filled.

The artificial lights casting the faint glow around the ready room hummed in an almost imperceptive manner. It was a faint, high-pitched purring like that of a baby Noghri in pain. The Grand Admiral found the sound to be rather disturbing, though he doubted the other occupants even noticed it.

Closing his eyes into narrow slits of concentration, he isolated the irritating sound in his mind, carefully blocking it out in the ways of his training. So limited a sense as hearing could easily be manipulated in such a way, as Daemon had come to discover long ago.

As his mind came back to the reality of the ready room and the situation at hand, he let his posture relax ever so slightly - a futile effort to make himself comfortable in an impossibly uncomfortable situation.

The pearl white Grand Admiral's uniform he donned was already beginning to become a nuisance; it's tailored fit and flashy form not allowing him the freedom of his usual cloak. He could taste the nervousness of the room’s occupants in the reeking recycled air. Tugging irritably at his color, he contorted his face as if to express his discomfort as he suddenly realized how hot it was in this confined space. He was slowly becoming aware of more and more displeasures all about him and his impatience was growing.

[Daemon Hyfe]

The Grand Admiral’s cruel thoughts on how to handle Captain Essian were he to be late were interrupted by the swish of the ready rooms door’s sliding open. Captain Essian strode in, a mere 20 seconds remaining before the meeting was designated to start, and Daemon let out a disappointed sigh as he realized he wouldn't get the chance at his fun.

The Captain had a flush look on his face as if he had been hurrying his way here, which he had, no doubt. He stopped near the Grand Admiral’s chair, bowing slightly.

Daemon knew this was a critical moment. Should he show the Captain disciplinary action and demonstrate to the other persons in the room that he would not tolerate such slip-ups? While he knew this seemed the logical thing to do, he decided they hadn’t the time for such trivialities; they had a planetary assault to plan. Besides, the Captain had arrived on time, after all.

With a nod, Admiral Hyfe greeted the man. He could see the tension on the Captain’s face; feel that same tension in the other officers in the room. He remained silent for a moment, then gestured to the chair at the other end of the table. "Have a seat, Captain," he said, feeling the mental sigh of relief in the man before him.

"Sir," Essian replied, heading towards his place at the end of the oval table.

Daemon cast a final glance around the room, now that everyone was present and Captain Essian was taking his seat. The chitchat around the room had faded away as Essian had entered, leading into a dead silence. Daemon briefly studied each of them in turn as he himself pulled his chair up the table.

The man on his immediate left Daemon knew to be the recently promoted Rear Admiral Hayt of the SSD Bara-dur; a small man, weak-looking. The face was weaselish with overlarge dark eyes. Despite his fairly young age, there was gray at his temples, and a weathered appearance about him. For some strange reason Daemon always found that his movements seemed difficult to follow, something that continually puzzled him. Hayt was a sly little man of quick tongue and good humor, and even better tactical skill. He barely stood to Daemon's shoulder height at full, but he was not to be judged by his size. His stature and way of movement lead to Daemon’s belief that he was a trained fighter. Hayt was a man with fast hands and a loyalty to his cause Daemon had never seen before. A Corellian, Hayt often made references to his ancient heritage, sharing Daemon’s interest in poetry and moving quotations, but often ones in the Old Corellian tongue. Because he had the favor the Grand Admiral, the occasional smell of glitterstim spice he had about him was let slide. For this occasion though, Hayt seemed clean.

Observing this man, Daemon came to realize he was one of the few people he actually enjoyed having in his presence, and he let out a weak smile.

The other occupants of the room consisted of Captain Djuri of the MC-90 Shadow Host, which would be leading Assault Force B in the upcoming attack, and four of the Reserve Armada's finest R&D experts. Daemon had left it up to Captain Essian to choose which four would attend this meeting, and he had all confidence in the Captain that he had chosen wisely. There was also an armed stormtrooper-guard at the door, as well as one outside. Now that everyone was here, Daemon turned and gave the stormtrooper the hand signal to take up post outside the door. The guard did so.

Satisfied that the scene was set, Daemon folded his gloved-hands on top of the black wooden-topped table (most likely a fine impression of the wood from a Doujja tree, he decided). They had much to discuss here, and the others seemed eager.