The Invasion of Arcan IV

[Wolfgang Schreiger]

In the days after the Black Hand attack, the urban world of Arcan IV licked its wounds...its space lanes filled with relief aid, rather than the military swell that was prominent in earlier times. The Dark Jedi had struck at an inopportune time for the Jedi, and inflicted much damage upon the planet. Now, the threat was repulsed, and life was returning to normal. But there was one silent spectator who was watching with a smile on his twisted face. Vice Diktat Wolfgang Schreiger, absolute ruler of the Galactic Empire...or what loyal elements still true to the cause that remained. Now, he sat on the bridge of his flagship, the Imperial Star Destroyer Paragon, a disturbing twinkle in his evil eyes.

"It would seem that the time is right for action. The old axiom is that lightning never strikes twice, Captain Vilcor."

The stout imperial turned to look at his short, bald superior officer.

"Yessir, I know the phrase."

Schreiger looked to the man, as if his obvious comment had wasted valuable time.

"Indeed, Captain. I do try to ensure that my senior military staff are not textbook dullards. Your knowledge of quips will help me sleep at night, no doubt."

Captain Vilcor stifled any further small talk, letting the outspoken Vice Diktat speak.

"As I was saying, Captain...the axiom is that lightning never strikes twice...yet there is no axiom that is superior to the power of Murphy's Law. The last thing to be expected is...a second attack on Arcan IV!"

The noise on the bridge quieted down, and several crewer's eyes from the bridge pit turned up to look at their leader. An uncomfortable silence ensued, in which Schreiger seemed to bask, his eyes looking beyond Vilcor, and into the darkness of the viewport beyond.

"Least of all from me, Captain. They've all but considered Wolfgang Schreiger a no-count. After all...while the other so-called imperials have squabbled over worthless border worlds...I have bided my time. While they have bickered, I have brooded. They fail to see the new parameters of the game we play, and they continue to fight as if they had the power to win at attrition. No, Captain...that will not work this time. We have no super star destroyers. We have no death stars. No super lasers. The Rebels outnumber us immensely, so we must now become sneaky, and clever."

Schreiger paused, sipping the wine in his goblet as he looked to Vilcor.

"For you, Captain...that's an uphill battle to fight, I'm afraid. But clever, you will become."

Vilcor remained silent, seeming to shrink into his uniform. Schreiger took his command chair, drumming fingertips on the armrests.

"But in the meantime, set a course for Maw Installation. We have work to do."

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei was looking about him, hard at work helping the people repair their broken homes and shops.

"I'll never get off Arcan at this rate, but then again, who cares?" Wei rather liked Arcan. It had plants and grass and such. He had heard that Coruscant had none of that, that the whole planet was just one big city, and they had to export food, and even their water.

"I like this place," he said again.

[Lillian Snow]

Lillian hadn't made it off Arcan either...she'd been hurt halfway through the epic battle. Beneath her clothes she wore a large bacta patch which was doing a slow job of healing her and prevented her from helping in any way. But Reason seemed to be unusually helpful, and was doing most everything she told it to without question. The rebuilding was going quite smoothly. She sat on an empty cargo crate near Wei, directing Reason as it was needed.

"I like it too."

[Reason]

The giant droid stood silently next to Lillian. At the moment, its work was finished, and it awaited a further command.

[Wolfgang Schreiger]

The Paragon cut into realspace amidst a maelstrom of spiraling stellar gasses and debris. The Maw cluster funneled interstellar floatsam into its depthless singularities, showing only the faintests whisps of the death they promised any starship that ventured too close. The Star Destroyer's sublight engines slowed to a crawl, and the bridge's lights dimmed slightly, as full deflector shields came online. Captain Vilcor handled the delegations.

"Helm, port 3 degrees. Adjust ventral azimuth point two zero."

"Yessir."

The star destroyer carefully maneuvered, moving slowly toward an unremarkable looking space station, some distance away. The path between was a graveyard of stars, each capable of sending the Paragon to its utter doom. Massive Kuat Drive Yards ion engines trundled the behemoth warship along. Schreiger watched with detatched interest. It was always difficult to traverse the Maw, but to Schreiger, such was to be expected of his crew. He drummed his fingers on the chair armrests, finally speaking up.

"Open a channel to the installation."

Within moments, a hologram formed at Schreiger's feet...purposefully smaller than life size, as a psychological boost to the Vice Diktat.

"Commander Trax, this is an unannounced visit. I trust you are prepared to accomodate my flagship."

Trax was a gaunt, pasty man, whose ghostly shade was almost as grey as his uniform. He looked to either side, and blinked.

Moff Schreiger...we expect the unexpected, of course. However...I must say that we have not reached full production, as you ordered. To date, we have eighty-five percent of the demanded quantities."

Schreiger glared at the miniscule hologram.

"Commander, do you comprehend the term Eighty-five percent employed? I tend to round down, is that clear?"

Trax gulped nervously.

"We can put all shifts into assembly. I can have another fifteen percent in two days, governor."

Schreiger straightened in his seat.

"You have one, Commander Trax. If we are not at operational capacity tomorrow, I will find an arc welder on the production line to replace your incompetence. I might as well employ fools without ego to cloud their sense of reality. Now get back to work. Schreiger out!"

The Grand Moff grit his teeth, rising and pacing. Suddenly he stopped, whirled around, and snapped at a Lieutenant.

"Get me a frikkin frappuccino! I always have coffee with my layoffs!"

[Marcus Telcontar]

Even if the attack, it was still important for a bit of flag waving to show the NR was serious in protecting one of it's memeber states. Thence, Capt Drecker, late of the NRSF fleet was now in command of a carrier force, gathering on a piece of galaxy that was no more than a grid reference. A sun and a few dead planets, nothing more. About a days trip to Arcan IV, where there was a highly agitated Jedi Senator scorcing ether, demandign the Republic do somethign.

Drecker herself had once met this woman, not long ago. Dark hair, beautiful and dangerous. And apparently was the ex wife to General Tohmahawk, the late and lamented founder of the NRSF. Drecker felt a twinge of jealosy at that, for Tohmahawk would have made one hell of a catch. Drecker didnt think TOhmahawk was the marrying kind... well, she thought no Jedi was the marrying kind.

At least Tohmahawk had trusted her. Which some in High Command didnt. As per usual, being a woman in the Armed Serives was a hinderance. Tohmahawk had helped resurrect her career, now it seemed some butthead in Ops wanted it quashed. Well, least she hadnt sunk so low that she was back on Interdictor patrol. Here she had an MC-100, plus a couple of smaller MC-80's loaded fully with X and A snubbies, plus a few support craft. Bit of a show of force to quieten and calm nerves.

Wish she had Defender tho. That would comfort anyone on the same side of that behemoth. Well, she had an okay force...

"Madam! We have a small vesse coming out of hyperspace!" called out a crewer.

"ID?" she replied, wondering who this could be. Maybe Fleet had decided to pull this assignment from her?

"Ummm.... it's a personal ship, transponder is id'ng it as Razor, owned by a General..."

"I want a sensor scan on my plate, now" Drecker snapped. The crewer complied and she stared for a moment, before she tapped a code into her comm unit, starting a narrowband transmission to the small fighter/frieghter she recognised.

"Pilot of Razor identify yourself" she ordered.

"If you dont let me onboard, I'll put a missile through yur front shield" snapped back a voice... a very well remembered voice.

"No.... way.." she whispered to herself, a code coming through to her plate taht she alos recognised and that only one man used. "Errr... correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you dead?" she said, much louder.

"Do I sound dead? Now if you want more id, delay permission to board for another thirty seconds"

"One question first... what are you dong here?"

"Taking command, by behest of the Cheif of State herself. Now are you going to stand there all day Drecker or am I going to be allowed to come onboard?!?!"

As if a giant hand had been lifted from her, she smiled and nearly whooped. "Oh yes. Permision very definantly granted"

--

She waited near the ramp of the now landed Razor Nervous with four companies of troops to give her new commander a welcome. He didnt delay long, stomping down the ramp and clearly in a bad mood. If anything, it was the mood and attitude that convinced her first - not the black military uniform, or the cape, or the rail guns. It was the attitude. An attitude she was well used to and even if she was being relived of command, she was delighted to she. Drecker snapped off a salute as the being stopped in front of her. He saluted in return.

"Well Drecker, seems we're back in the same tub of steel. How have you been?"

Same eyeshades, but he had a beard and longer hair. "Major General, it's a pleasure to see the reports were wrong."

"They were correct until the Hand attacked Arcan. I'll explain reaqlly why to you when we are in private" he said, lowering his voice. "It's good to see you again Zara."

"James, it does me a power of good to see you as well" she said, reaching out shake her Commader's hand

"Likewise" he said, accepting and shaking. "This your flagship?"

"Yes sir"

"Good. I need a holoview - I have to make a call to the Governor of Arcan. Let him know I'm coming"

[Wolfgang Schreiger]

The next twenty-four hours passed slowly for the Grand Moff. Schreiger bided his time as only he could, sampling expensive Ithorian wine while having his head waxed and annointed by inferior slaves. His thought patterns pulsed in tune to their rhythmic kneading of his scalp. Ohhhh...the terror to be unleashed!

"Enough!"

Schreiger shooed the Twi'Leks away with a hand gesture, commanding them to leave his presence. Finishing his wine...he rose from his comfy command chair.

"It is time to see what Trax has done! Bring my shuttle!"

<center>* * *</center>

The technicians at Maw Installation glistened with sweat. The smell of anxiety filled the air, as Governor Schreiger's entourage exited the ship, approaching Commander Trax and his command crew. All around him, the walls were piled high with crates, as cargo droids continued stacking. Schreiger adjusted the seams of his uniform, eyeing Trax menacingly.

"Time is up, Commander...I hope you have what I'm looking for."

Trax smiled, dabbing the sweat on his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Of course, Governor Schreiger. Every shift worked double-time, but we have reached capacity.

Schreiger's beady eyes gleamed, as his hands clasped together.

"Excellent....EXCELLENT!"

He looked to the crates, his hands spread wide.

"Beautiful, Commander! Soon, the Rebels will rue the day! Ohhh....how they will ruuuee. I promise!"

He waved a fist for emphasis, laughing diabolically.

"Muhahahahaha! The Cold War is about to begin! It is very cold...in space! Muhahahahaha!! Ah-hahahahaha!!"

He whirled around to his men.

"Prepare at once! Load the modules! We have work to do, my minions!"

Still cackling to himself, Schreiger boarded the shuttle once again, just as larger Sentinel cargo shuttles arrived at the installation.

[Wei Wu Wei]

Wei shivered. "I don;t like that feeling." He muttered. "Lillian, how are you feeling right now?"

Wei wondered if she felt it too.

[Wolfgang Schreiger]

<center>Meanwhile, in the Tyfana System...</center>

The bulk freighter Minneus slowed to a halt, the light dying out in its drive engines, as two squadrons of skipray blastboats vectored away from the crippled vessel. The freighter was an independent charter, from a non-aligned world, which was bound for Arcan IV. Still far from New Republic space, the ship was easy pickings without an escort. Nobody would have anticipated such a raid on a simple ore trawler. Not even pirates wasted such resources on low priority targets. However, the immobilized starship was now flanked by two Victory class Star Destroyers, one Interdictor, and three modified Strike Frigates. As the Victories disgorged their stormtrooper dropships to the captured vessel, the grey wedge of the ISD Paragon knifed into realspace, regrouping with the Imperial wolfpack.

Onboard the Paragon, Schreiger beamed with malicious delight, receiving a report from Captain Skry, of the Rapacious.
Skry was a beady-eyed automaton, a by-the-book extension of Grand Moff Schreiger's will.

"Governor Schreiger, the civilian freighter has been subdued. Shields, weapons, and engines have all been neutralized by ion assault. Our boarding parties are on their way to engage the crew. Sensors indicate a crew of 120. Resistance should be negligible, with few losses."

Schreiger was pleased, and he diverted his attention to a second viewscreen, which showed progress of the Imperial boarding teams.

"Very good, Captain. Move fast, and take the ship quickly. We have a schedule to maintain. Do not kill the command crew. We must have them alive. Destroy the rest, and purge the cargo."

Schreiger wrung his hands together with delight.

"Once the ship is ours and the cargo is emptied, we will begin the transfer. Make sure your engineering teams replace the conduits in the ion engines, so the vessel can be piloted again."

Skry saluted crisply.

"Yes Governor, I obey!"

The holo dissolved, and Schreiger smiled, as he so loved to hear those words.