Cat and Mouse

[Telan Desaria]

Somewhere in the Bastion Sector



Space had perhaps one feature that applied regardless of species, race, gender, or political affiliation. It possessed one defining aspect any being could feel trapped within its endless expanse. That was lonliness. Forever and ever the universe continued without end, interrupted only by planets and the few symbols of natural intelligence, steel and iron drifting about the nothingness. Between stars and systems, stations and ships, planets and moons lay the void of deep space; there, in that void, surrounded only by a panorama of black and light, could one feel total emptiness, of mind, body, and purpose.


It is not men which rule time, but time which rules men, and all.


Admiral Sokolov reclined in a thickly padded chair deep in the dark recesses of his quarters. Thoughts ran across his mind without end, his eyes barely open. His only hint of life was the soft sound of his breath on his sleeve as he adjusted his position subconsciously.


It takes a true gentlemen to ackowledge his own defeat. Only a true warrior can defy it.


Every floor throughout the mighty Imperial Star Destroyer reverberated with the humm of its powerful sublight engines, hurling it through space with the energy of a sun at bay. Sleeping was made all the more easy by its ceaseless droning.


Several dozen levels below the Admiral's lair at the base of the rising command tower, engineers bellowed orders and shouted to their subordinates. The reactor surrendered to its organic masters as they manipulated its power supply. With great reluctance, the Discrepant slowed in its hurtling path. Were it not for the inertial dampening fields holding gravity at a constant, every piece of matter no strongly attached to the hull would careen towards the bow at hideous speeds.


The command for all stop was issued on the bridge, Captain Lasson standing as he scanned his instruments. Moments later, all stop was reported from the engines below. Outside of the wedge-shaped warship loomed the mass of S6-17, one of the many charted by unimportant planetoids throughout the sector.


The omnipresent thrum from which many officers relaxed had increased, the ionization reactor working at fifty percent capacity. Strain was called from her charged depths to reduce the vessel's velocity, and many could intimate the change without a viewport or display anywhere in sight.


Admiral Sokolov awoke at the interruption, grabbing up his comlink in one hand and a clean tunic in the other. His chair snapped to as he rose from it; barely had he stood then he was gone from his quarters and on a lift for the bridge. There was no scheduled stop for another day at sublight, the logical use of hyperspeed curtailed by grav-well mines laid in the area five years before and never effectively cleared. Privately, the Admiral cursed Admiral Lebron for his overactive defensive measures, but he would have done the same given the weapons and neccessity.


" Admiral!" snapped the Destroyer's executive officer as the durasteel lift doors separated to reveal the imposing mass of the chiseled featured-Line officer.


A salute was rendered, but not returned by Sokolov as he strode through the control corridor to the bridge proper. Captain Lasson stood as the juncture of the catwalk looking fore and came smartly about as the Admiral's unique footfalls grew louder.


" Report, Captain."


" My Admiral, scanners reported a distress signal in the area from the Polemic, one of our manned scouts. She was last ordered into the Unknowns, as has not been heard from in five days."


" Shields to full. Stand to all gunners. Deploy the recon squadron."


" As ordered, Admiral!" The Captain had made a career of servitude, never rising in rank due to his inability to risk anything. Under the command of any senior officer, his voice was strong and intimidating. Without a flag to stand under, he seemed to shrink. Complimenting the driving personality behind Admiral Sokolov, he was an excellent device for the Admiral to have his orders relayed no matter how maniacal or brilliant.


" Shields report full."


" Primary batteries report ready. Flak batteries and missile quartets loading now," replied the chief gunnery officer, a mountain of an ensign who barely fit in his large uniform tunic.


" Excellent. Push the sensor envelope out to four hundred klicks and find that ship. She can't be out more than that."


Sokolov assumed his chair of command, placing his chin in right hand. Already his eyes flashed with thought as when he had slept, now though, they had focus and pattern. Every detail, whether direct or overheard, was filed in his holographic memory. Every bite of data he would catalogue in his mind for some use at a later date.


" We've found her. Grid 8-a. Just below the planetoid's southern pole."


" Any other ships in the area, Captain?"


Lasson turned to his xo, who nodded the negative.


" None detected, Admiral. Recon patrol ready for launch."


The Admiral pursed his lips.


" Take us to her. Maintain general quarters. Send out a rapier squadron to picket positions. I want any activity reported."


Awoken from her forced slumber, the engines deep within the hull returned to life, feeding fuel to matter and funneled aft. Speed built slowly, the prow dipping towards the horizon and the Polemic.


Barely five minutes passed of raw tension on the bridge as the range counted down to minimal, and her the other vessel's cylindrical form came into view. What had been a Sword-class Scout had been reduced to nothing at all, appearing chewed between the jaws of some terrestrial predator. Carbon scoring dotted the hull and debris abounded. Pieces of hull and flesh floated about, fuel once liquid now frozen in the cold of space collided with other chunks of the hundred meter patrol craft.


" What the frell?" murmured the acting scanner chief, a sentiment echoed by thought through the mind of every man on the command deck.


" Contact aft! Warship decloaking!!!"


The Admiral's eyes grew wide. Cloaked vessels could not see the outside world! How had they been found?


" They're training guns!"


" Bring us about!, Sokolov shouted, catapaulting himself to his jackbooted feet. " Give them all we've got!"

[Telan Desaria]

Dark indeed is the shroud which hangs over our head.


Xucphra City, capital of Thyferra and indeed the Sovereignty itself, was nestled between the blue expanse of the Mauren Sea and the gradual rise of Mount Tyrinaal. Over the heights of the mountain crest came dark clouds engorged with moisture and vapor. Soon enough they would open up their bowels to return the water they had so tirelessly collected, and it would fall on the capital. Heralding the coming storm were low rumbles of thunder from above, not the loud roar of a tempest whose brevity would be matched only by its ferocity but the punctuated growl of a front which labored to sneak up on its hapless victims.


From his mount-facing office window, Director Latt lazily watched the thunderheads make their slow run towards the sea. He had always a saying that when storms brewed, Intelligence was at its best. The darkness cast by the clouds’ interdiction of the Thyferran sun matched perfectly the shadowy mystique which so well fit the Bureau of Imperial Intelligence with their black buildings and like colored uniforms.


“ What say you, Resi?” Latt asked, letting slip a grin as a flash of lightning momentarily brightened the office, then as quickly disappeared into nothingness. Smoke from a lit mini-cigarra streamed towards the ceiling in small wisps, the Director rarely puffing on his nasty little habit.


The only other occupant of the room also looked out of the wall-to-wall window, but not at the storm and the forest covered mountain below. Instead his eyes drank every detail on the teeming city below, boasting a population of more than a million. Humans, regardless of sex, dashed about at capricious speeds, their abbreviated garb flowing the in the pre-storm wind. Aliens too moved about, their clothes slightly less revealing than the natives.’ Transports of all kinds buzzed about, one small Incom model making a rapid descent to escape a speeding skyhopper, itself tailed by four Internal Security patrolcraft. The glorified policemen’s most exciting job was that very chasing of wild teenagers.


“ I think the plan has merit,” the other replied, sipping from an upheld decanter of brandy. He allowed the alcohol to swim among his tastebuds before swallowing, all the while deciding whether it was worthy of the praise the Director had given it or if it was an unworthy substitute for the popular Corellian Ale.


“ You must have more faith, Resi! Regardless of outcome, these happenings shall affect you more so than I.” The Intelligence chief inhaled on his minicigarra before placing into an ivory ashtray. The Sovereignty’s immense capital base from the sale of bacta alone had assured that no expense was spared, no matter how trivial or opulent.

Darts of lightning shot from the mass of dark stratus clouds, growing in intensity and frequency. Before long, the sun-loving people of Thyferra would be rushed indoors by rain. At that thought, Director Latt deeply thanked Imperial internal climate control systems, allowing every man and being in uniform to escape heat and humidity.


“ I have faith in the plan, but I doubt its unwilling participants will cooperate.” Turning from the window, the other speaker moved over towards the door, past the Director’s modern Coruscant-style synthwood desk.


“ Before you go, General, remember this: what is to transpire is merely a sideshow. Our task is to make sure that all eyes are watching it, so the main event can continue unnoticed.”


The General nodded, throwing up a mock salute, light from a flash of electricity outside shining off his grey-stenciled cuff title for barely a millisecond. With that he departed, leaving the Director alone.


“ Now we wait. Gloria Imperium indeed!”

[Telan Desaria]

Somewhere in the Bastion Sector


Imperial-class Star Destroyers of nearly every type and design were built as primary deep space combat warships, bristling with weaponry and sporting crews in the tens of thousands. Their armor was thick and shields strong. Each could dispatch a territorial defense force and subjugate a planet without any aide from another vessel; they were the true monarchs of the stars. They had two of the most important aspects of ship design in abundance: protections and firepower.


Drastically lacking, however, was speed and any agility at all. With the power to reduce nearly any force standing in its way, her sheer size and mass made maneuvering a slow and painstaking process, and many had collided with sister ships that could not turn away in time. To come completely about in an emergency required a full reverse of one hull drive while forcing another to push the vessel forward. Such was a risky practice and ill-advised in combat.


All things considered, Admiral Sokolov had no other choice when a ship appeared off his stern.


“ Reverse starboard engines. Port ahead full. All batteries fire as she bears!”


“ As ordered, Admiral!” replied the helmsman, punching his console with the fury of panic and the power of adrenaline feeding his actions. Every life aboard rested in his hands.


No sooner had he finished acknowledging his superior then the systems chief stood in the port crew pit. From his lips came one word that seemed to hang in the air as the flagship yawed. “Incoming!”


“ Re-rout port deflector power to aft generators!” ordered Captain Lasson, but it was too late. Before his command was finished, the first volley of projectile weapons impacted the aft deflectors.


Bright flashes could be seen from the fore-facing bridge viewpanes as tongues of fire washed over the angular hull, dancing up and across the superstructure. From the command tower to the primary landing bay, every surface of the ship shook violently from the force of the missile impacts. Slowly deflector integrity dropped until stray warheads and explosions touched the hull itself. The delicate engine housing was exposed to space and was the most badly damaged from those missiles that passed the shield. Blackened chunks of the hull tore away from the ship, armor liquefying as the heat grew in intensity before subsiding and allowing the masses to freeze.


“ Damage report!” screamed the Admiral, raising a hand towards a now sore spot on his stone-set jaw. Pulling it away he saw the red of his own blood, a piece of rocking bulkhead having grazed his face.


“ We have zero hyperspace capability. All primary drives have been rendered inoperable. Hull breeches in section 10, decks 76 – 94 are being sealed. Weapons unaffected.”


“ They obviously want us to stay and play. Oblige them, will you Mr. Lasson?”


“ Aye sir. All guns that can get a clear shot are to commence volley fire.”


Only a fraction of the Discrepant’s one hundred eighty degree turn had been completed, leaving only a smattering of the starboard gunwales with even a chance to retaliate. No more than a dozen heavy weapons could be brought to bear, but what could did. From those dozen emplacements came a vicious hail of neon energy, heavy turbolaser bolts crossing the void to meet the attacker’s shields. One lone proton torpedo launcher had the enemy vessel in its sights, letting loose four projectiles in quick succession. The close range did not allow their burners to activate, saving more on board fuel for the explosions to follow. Four torpedoes was paltry against a capital ship, but they made their presence known. One rocketed through a gap torn in the deflector, shrouding all nearby space in a ball of fire as the Imperial missile met the hull.


“ Estimates!” Sokolov demanded.


“ They have a few hull breeches, but their armor does seem to be holding.”


“ What the hell is that? What IFF is she flying?” asked Lasson, undoing his tunic to expose a shoulder wound.


All eyes turned to the tactical officer, who quickly scrambled through the databanks for information. True to his training, he replied in rapid time. “ Invincible-class Cruiser, heavily refitted. Reading twenty forward missile launchers, another twenty along the hull, perhaps a hundred laser emplacements.”


“ Any fighter deployment?”


The tactical officer shook his head, not averting his eyes from his emerald-glowing panel.


Admiral Sokolov pounded a bloody hand onto the arm of his command chair. “ Good! Then let us be the first to bring our friends to the party! Deploy the bombers and two squadrons of fighters for support. Ready the blastboats for launch. Helm, turn us as much as you can!”


An Admiral’s orders were carried out with all expediency, no less in battle than during ceremony; TIE Avengers streamed from the forward bay soon after they received their command. A broad arc brought them along the starboard gun decks and towards the enemy which lurked behind.


“ What the-? She’s gone!”


The Admiral turned towards his flag captain, who in turn looked down at the officer’s screen. Indeed, the cruiser had re-cloaked. There would be no way to find her now.


“ Target her last position and fire!”


Near the very aft of the ship, a quadlaser burst was triggered by a four man crew. First a pair of shots lanced towards the planetoid, followed by a successive blast. Both passed harmlessly through the cruiser’s former position.


“ They’ve gone? But we didn’t give ‘em that much!” drawled the executive officer in his Raltiiran drawl.


The Admiral shook his head. “ They’ll be back.”

[Telan Desaria]

Somewhere in the Bastion Sector

Admiral’s Ready Room – ISD Discrepant


“ There will be no more outburst, Mr. Yarr, or I will rescind your commission.”


“ Of course, sir, sorry sir.”


The embarrassed Colonel, senior flight officer aboard, resumed his seat. Without ever having engaged the cruiser, he had lost four fighters in his command, three of them from the TIE Vanguard reconnaissance squadron. Knowing every pilot and technician by name, he took their loss especially hard. The entirety of the flight operations staff was a family.


“ You are excused, Colonel. Simply control your emotions.” Admiral Sokolov ran a finger across the white dressing an FX droid had placed on his jaw wound. He lost more blood than he had thought, and stood down while being castigated by the droid for his over exertion. Regardless of the rank of the patient, the Imperial medical droids were very fussy, and never hesitated to comment on a scratch or nick.


“ Now, Lieutenant Wattsil. What more can you tell us about this cruiser?”


Without standing, as the Admiral had stressed the reduced tension level he demanded, the sensor section chief read off a brief synopsis from his datapad. “ As best we can tell, she originated in the Corporate Sector – they still use them. This one was heavily modified and given three times more guns than the others. No launch capabilities were apparent, and I concluded this definitely after reviewing some of the holocam footage.”


“ Who owns it? That’s what I want to know,” Captain Lasson asked, seated and bereft of any tunic at all. His entire left shoulder was bandaged and spots of blood could be seen building up beneath the dressing.


“ I don’t know. She had a scrambled IFF, so it was not broadcasting any affiliation. I can tell you her last refit was at Sluis Van. They use a particular yard tug which leaves stress marks by the bow moorings. I caught them in the vids, too. The missiles she fired are expensive, but easy to acquire. High yield DD-9s made on Eriadu. After that, I’ve no more.”


Sokolov pursed his lips. “ Range to nearest allied vessel?”


“ The Seranor, one of our frigates should be making a sweep of this region soon. She’s twenty hours from here now. We could bring in other ships faster, but only by breaking radio silence.”


“ No. We will remain on course and on mission, albeit a bit off schedule. What are our propulsion capabilities?”


A mountain of a man in a dark jumpsuit cracked his neck. “ The hyperdrive is shot to hell, so a quick escape is out, even if the mines weren’t there. We can make and maintain a quarter at best. In a pinch, we can push the drive for flank speed, but it won’t last more than ten minutes before the damaged shafts overheat and rupture. Then we’ll be down to thrusters only.”


“ With all due respect, Admiral, I have to suggest we call for another ship. And some escorts.”


Sokolov shook his head slowly. “ No. Set course for the rendezvous. Engage best speed – one quarter, I believe. Keep a squadron of TIEs in picket positions, just in case, and rotate them every hour. At this speed, they’ll be able to keep up. Dismissed.”

[Telan Desaria]

Somewhere in the Bastion Sector


The Discrepant had taken quite a beating in its brief yet bloody encounter with its latest foe. For a crew tuned to victory, a commander defined by success, and an Admiral overcome by confidence, the attack had far reaching affects on all those trapped within the Star Destroyer’s steel walls. A chief engineer who only a day before had boasted the most well-adjusted coolant system in the Fleet now had to look through catwalk windows at the smashed and scorched remains of the drive system. A tactical coordinator who had never before been ambushed in a twenty year career now hung his head low with shame.


The entire mood, nay the feel, of the Bastion flagship had taken a turn for the worse. While salutes had not lost their precision, the power behind them, its driving spark, had faded. Traveling along towards an all but unknown location at their best sublight speed, out of contact with their repair ships and escorts, did little to aide the air of confidence that had previously roamed the halls of the vessel.


Without coming to a stop, careening ever forwards, burial ceremonies were held for those whose bodies remained behind to honor. Gunners mounted their comrades inside spent heavy turbolaser energy casings and cast them adrift into space amidst the low drone of the Anthem of the Imperial Fleet. The men who slaved to keep power flowing and the ship moving had their bodies wrapped in the Bastion Standard, a primary hydrospanner lain at their sides, and cast from the ship. Soldiers and guards who had been so unlucky as to be in the blast radii were placed in heavy blaster crates and discharged, a party of friends standing by an exposed viewport to follow their final mission with a volley of fire.


At every single ceremony, en masse or singular, was a member of the ship’s command staff in full dress regalia. The Admiral payed his respects to men he had never met, never seen, only knew of as statistics and compliment adjustments, as did the Captain, his executive officer and second mate, as well as every other senior departmental commander.


The mood was as solemn after all thirty-one hundred dead were lain to rest as it was when their bodies were still among the living. Operations continued relatively unabated, but there was no disguising the atmosphere. Many officers not aboard would browbeat the entire crew for not dressing it up and moving on. Those officers however, were not under those conditions. The crew of the Discrepant would have followed its Admiral into the depths of purgatory without question, and so felt entitled to some grievance time. He could not argue, blaming mostly himself, in private, for the loss. Many ships had suffered worse damage; for a proud crew, that it had happened was worse than the scars etched into the hull.


Three days had passed since the Invincible cruiser had taken its toll on morale and keel alike. No end was in sight.


“ Captain, if you please.”


Captain Lasson glanced at his chrono. Nearly half way through third watch, he did not expect the Admiral on the bridge. It was unusual enough for him to be there. Giving his superior a quick nod, the ship’s commander shut down his console and strode aft towards the stairs. He ascended to the main deck at his usual gait, giving his customary glance to bow and stern as he placed his jackbooted feet above.


The Admiral was standing near the port lifts at the aft end of the control corridor, uniform in perfect order through his face belied his exhaustion.


“ Sir,” the Captain said as he fell into step next to the Admiral. A tunic had been altered to allow its donning over his wound dressing. While his corresponding sleeve fell limply to his side, it looked decidedly more professional than his white collared under-tunic or like-colored regulation undershirt.


“ Captain, I have spoken to you before about our destination. After these last days, are you fazed in your agreement?”


Lasson looked stunned – and felt it – but answered nonetheless as he would were he an ensign fresh from Carida, were it under Bastion’s command instead of Thyferra’s.


“ No sir. If I were, it is not mine to disagree.”


“ Honest and loyal, rare qualities, Captain. Do not speak to save face or my feelings. I gave those up when I was handed my first command.”


“ That is not the reason sir. My insight is limited, but I believe if we areto have any chance at all, with what we do have, we need to shorten our front. Overextension will be our death knell.”


The Admiral took his time, then nodded as well. “ Well put, Captain. I do agree. I wish this was not the only option, but with nearly the same command in nearly the same area of operations and an approximate rank, I feel much like Admiral Pellaeon.”


“ Sir, he was executed.”


Sokolov beamed reminiscence for a few scant seconds, before returning to his thoughts. “ I remember that well. Before that, I meant. Though the same circumstances do apply.”


“ Permission to speak candidly, sir.”


“ Of course.” The Admiral turned from a corridor viewport so the passing stars were at his back and the innards of the command tower ahead. His arms hung loosely at his sides, looking more like a lieutenant than Admiral, despite his wisps of grey.


Lasson appeared to fidget before straightening himself, obviously comfortable with his final word selection.


“ Sir, I feel it my duty to inform you, despite your motives, and your circumstances, under Imperial Law, you do stand open to charges of treason. Among others.”


“ Yes, I do.”


“ I support you fully, and will remain by your side to the end. But if you fail, if we fail, if this crew fails, then all is lost. Bastion will be overrun, and with Lebron near-mad and making Admirals out of petty officers, the last Imperial possessions in this corner of the galaxy will be lost. I know we have only a few allies in what’s left of the Empire, but this will drive them away. These…people…will not help us when they have questions to ask.”


Sokolov smiled. “ I admire your candor, and you are completely correct. Grand Admiral Desaria will be driven insane by this and swear to avenge Imperial Honor. Grand Moff Sevon will see it as an opportunity and launch a crusade of his own under some other pretense. Admiral Lebron will predict the winner and find a comfortable spot at their side. The others will do likewise, hitting each other all the while. We can fight any of them at a time, but none at once. With this mission successful, we will at least have only one, short border section to patrol. And with our Core-ward flank secure and its skirmishes ended, we may get ahead in our ship totals. All these are ifs, though.


“ One this is for sure, however. If we do nothing, we die. If we do something, we may die, or we may live. That is a risk I am willing to take. When I was promoted Admiral the decision became mine. And risk we shall. I am not going to surrender to inaction. At least we shall have tried.”


“ Are you prepared to take that argument into the next life, Admiral?”


Sokolov pursed his lips and strode away.


Before he exited his Captain’s hearing, he replied. “ I will have to. Let us hope I am right.”

[Telan Desaria]

Bridge, ISD Discrepant
One day later


“ Captain, we have a sensor contact. Bearing oh-seven-oh. Speed – negligible.”


Lasson sat up in the Admiral’s chair, his favorite place of thought when its intended occupant was absent. “ Range?”


“ Five thousand kilometers. It’s heading is perpendicular to ours.”


“ Any indication they’ve spotted us?”


“ None sir.”


“ Captain, I have a spec-reading.”


“ Go ahead,” Lasson replied, looking down at to port at the ship’s dimunitive information officer.


“ Corellian freighter, YV-5500 class. Length one hundred meters. Judging by speed and course microcorrections, I would say she’s full. Current course puts them in line for a light speed jump to Ambrilli.”


Lasson stroked his chin, bereft of the stubble that had dominated his jawline for the past few days, having finally had the time to himself in his quarters. “ If they haven’t spotted us, we won’t help them. Steady on, helm.”


“ Steady on, aye.”



Freighter Millsivich
Somewhere in the Bastion Sector



“ She’s not changing course!”


“ Any combat deployment?” asked the ship’s senior officer, each hand clasped hard at the arms of the command chair.


“ Negative!”


The senior officer smiled, and relaxed. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes. Without exception, the interior lighting on the small craft was dim, saving on energy, not to mention keeping its well-drilled crew in character as mere independent cargo haulers.


“ Maintain this heading until she’s on the next leg. Then bring us back. Don’t want to be spotted.”


“ Aye sir!” replied a female from the helm controls.


Only a short time later, the Star Destroyer had changed its course for the second-to last sublight run of its journey, one that the freighter’s crew intended it not to complete. When the counter clicked over seven thousand kilometers, the maximum range of an Imperial III’s long range dedicated sensor package, the innocuous Corellian craft did an abrupt about-face. Running at full speed she returned to her previous position akimbo its acquaintance’s flight path.


There, sitting off the craft’s bow, was spatial apparition, for the stars shone brightly in all but a small patch of white and black panorama; the patch was shaped like an Invincible-class Cruiser.

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Center – a.k.a. Coruscant


“ Thank you, Melvin. I will take it from here. Call for a pickup. I will return shortly.”


“ But Colonel sir, uh, I, uh.”


Colonel Ramman chuckled at his driver’s loss for words. The large Army trooper had muscles to spare but few brains to waste. That said, he was very loyal to anyone he served. Doing his best to stop smiling at the brute’s stumbling, the Colonel moved to the front seat of the small personal speeder.


“ Relax, Sergeant. I will be all right. I have a…rendezvous…I’d rather you not be with me for.”


“ Oh!” the large sergeant replied, winking profusely at his commander. “ I see. You’ve got a lady friend, eh sir? Well now, that’s different! Turn on the old charm, sir!”


The sergeant brought the speeder to a stop atop a small landing platform near a crowded promenade, people milling about with shopping bags and extravagant gifts. Without thinking, the sergeant had stopped at the Prilli Mall, one of the most expensive and opulent shopping outlets in Imperial City. The Colonel noticed as he rutched over the middle control panel to the driver’s seat.


“ Here,” he said, throwing his driver a tightly packed wad of high-denomination credit vouchers. “ Buy yourself a suit.”


The speeder pulled away and up into traffic, the sergeant saluting and grinning as it did. He had never had so much money at once, especially with an NCO’s pay. Giddily smiling, the Army sergeant ran into the mall.


High above, the Colonel fell into line with light speeder traffic, turning several times to throw off any pursuit, though its likeliness was slim as his speeder was clearly marked with New Republic insignia. Several turns later, he was alone, out of the mainstream and secured.


Light cloud cover above allowing only the most determined sunbeams through to the main levels of the city-planet, the Colonel made his way to a Republic check point well beyond the boundaries of the InviSec.


“ Colonel!” snapped a battle-worn Lieutenant at the checkpoint, throwing up a salute.


“ Lieutenant.” He handed the guard officer a pass card and flimsiplast containing mission-specific orders. The officer perused both cursorily before handing them back.


“ Good luck sir. I wouldn’t.”


The Colonel smiled and returned the salute, pulling his speeder forward along the ferrocrete road past several large signs.




Quarantine Area - Off Limits
Trespassers will be shot



One either side of the small winding road sat many buildings still bedecked with Imperial emblems and regalia. Tall towers and small spired buildings sprouted up like lanced towards the sky, each radiating evil. The complex had once been the headquarters for the Imperial Ministry of Biological and Genetic Warfare. During the Imperial withdrawal from Coruscant several decades before, rumors had been spread of experiments set loose. Before the conquest of the planet had been completed, a massive transparisteel shroud had been erected over it, sealed with pteradrone, the most potent sealant known to exist. Only a few had entered, ever fewer coming back.


In front of the main Administration Building, the Colonel parked his speeder and looked up at the marble statue of Lord Vader standing atop the steel awning. He shook his head, and entered.


The entrance hall, and indeed every structure in the bubble, was devoid of power, only waning natural light illuminating anything. Three parallel walkways crossed overhead,
the main hall several stories tall. The Colonel stopped and looked up.


“ Echo One!” the Colonel shouted, his voice echoing through the cavernous hall.


At first there was no response, merely an eerie silence. Then, from several levels above came a reply, its tone low and manner serious. “ And the ice turned to flame.”


“ You are pleased?” the Colonel called, looking up but thoroughly unable to find the figure to whom he spoke. He knew who it was, but it nevertheless unnerving to be unable to see him.


“ Your information was adequate. Is anyone on to you?”


“ No.” The Colonel had resolved never to deal with another Imperial again when his current lucrative assignment was complete. To a man, they were ominous and deadly.


“ Good. Your payment.”


The figure from above threw down a sizeable box, the size of a human’s hand. Deftly, the Colonel caught it. He spent several minutes studying it.


The figure laughed. “ It will not harm you, I assure you.”


Cautiously, the New Republic staff officer took a deep breath as he popped the top of the black crested box. Inside were several small gems, each sparkling and pure, without blemish or nick. They were perfect, and he could not even contemplate their value. “ Thank you.”


He turned to leave, pleased, when the other figure called down to him. “ Colonel, I never said anything about myself.”


“ What?”


Before the Colonel could complete his turn, a thick neon energy blast caught him at the back of the neck. The entire expanse of the hall was filled with his blood-curdling scream as his molecules destabilized. Slowly, the bond between atoms broke, each strain of DNA breaking down at a microscopic level. Piece by piece, the Colonel ceased to exist, parts of his liberated chemical composition floating free into the atmosphere.


High above the wilting carcass of Colonel Ramman on a wide open catwalk stood a man dressed in black from jackboots to tunic. On each side of his head ran a strand of white through his pelt of black hair. With one motion, he replaced his highly illegal and absurdly rare disruptor pistol in his holster and turned to walk away. He grinned, showing a mouthful of immaculate teeth, his smile twisted evilly.


He turned his head to the side and listened as his muscles cracked. As Director of Imperial Intelligence, he had a perverse sense of being. He made his way to his small speeder and made preparations to depart his homeworld once again.

[Telan Desaria]

Naval Training Area, Fleet Maneuver Arena
Near Carida



“ Dispatch orders to First. Ready to break port on my command, course three – zero – zero Mark forty.”


“ As ordered, Admiral.”


Off the angular prow of the Imperial V-class Star Destroyer Vehemence sat a three-ship formation of Corellian gunships, their cylindrical forms concealing a potent array of medium-guns. Light from anear-by neutron star reflected from their highly polished hulls to give the appearance of metallic youth; under the buffed durasteel, waxed armor, and brand new paint sat warships more than a dozen years of age. At every moment their engines glowed hot, ready at fleeting word to adjust their heading and execute whatever bidding befell them. Their age was indeed no detriment to their performance, as much a tribute to their talented maintenance crews as design teams.


One command was issued from the tall command tower of the Destroyer and the trio of ships turned up and to their left, the yawing arc reminiscent of a fighter’s path. At no point did they lose cohesion, did one ship fall so much as a meter out of line.


Well done, thought Admiral of the Fleet Serena Laran, running each hand over the newly upholstered arms of her command chair. Her silver tunic and matching breeches were an excellent cloth compliment to the colour most prevalent among Imperial Star
Destroyer bridges.


“ Ready Third: starboard break zero – two – zero Mark three – one – five.”


No one on the new warship’s bridge could see the formation to which the Grand Raider Division’s new commander had sent orders, as it rested to the aft port quarter of the two-thousand meter craft. On the terminal screens of the tactical relay officer at the bow of the crewpit, the Admiral could observe the five cruisers and their position within the armada. She knew she did not need to, however. What lay at her every beck and call was the most well-drilled and ruthlessly trained Fleet unit within the Imperial Navy. Her random maneuvers were merely to demonstrate to her their much-flaunted skill.


“ Mark,” she ordered, slowly blinking her eyes as a show of calm deliberation to the crewers who intently watched her every move. Such was natural, though, any Flag crew anxious under the service of a new overlord. In order for her orders to be carried out efficiently and victory to be assured, every man and woman on that bridge, and indeed throughout the command, would need to trust her implicitly, and thus judge her for themselves.


She had earned the respect of Grand Admiral Desaria, enough so that she ranked higher than any other save he. In the eyes of the ship’s crew, she was a god; they would merely have to judge the level of her deism.


Bringing her eyes open again, the Admiral could see the triangular mass of a Victory-class Star Destroyer pass below and for of the bow, a quartet of light cruisers and frigates about her like tethered extensions of her beam and mast. No vessel dared speed faster than the one-thousand meter ancestor of the flagship each remaining in sync and in position. Their flight was slow and lumbering, but their precision unmistakable. Many a helmsman, and indeed many a captain had not dared to execute turns at such a rapid – relatively speaking - velocity as the Indoctrinator was, Destroyers unwieldly craft throughout. In the Grand Raider Division, three things held together and allowed such things to pass: skill, confidence, and boundless bravado.


“ Ready Second.”


“ Madam Admiral, Captain Artsin begs leave to execute a ‘discretionary exercise.’”


Admiral Laran gave her all to suppress a smile at the boldness of the Second Flight’s senior officer, an old but robust Kuati noble. Maintaining her regal façade, she agreed. Underneath her mask of authority, she was genuinely anxious to watch what the light assault component had planned.


“ Damn it!” yelled Captain Aleraat from his perch in the crewpit, prompting the Admiral to glance down at him. She never had a chance to admonish him as the bridge lights dimmed with the sounding of the collision alarm. Over the bridge and nearly between the Destroyer’s ubiquitous shield generator domes came the winged form of a modified Dreadnaught, dubbed an Assault Cruiser. On either side of her in perfect tandem flew two pair of Skipray Blastboats. The blastboats were not stored based aboard the Scintilla, but from the refitted Carrack Cruiser Xerxes which rolled in its path directly below the keel. Around the flanks of the Destroyer came pairs of Tiger-class monitors. All joined up several hundred kilometers off the bow and turned en mass to the dorsal plane for a slow return loop to their return position.


Admiral Laran gritted her teeth, their boned masses grinding together under the motionless veil of slightly-tanned flesh. When her jaw had relaxed, she spoke softly and to the amazement of the bridge crew.


“ Compliment Captain Artsin on his Flight’s precision. As well, fine him one thousand credits for voluntarily disrupting normal bridge operations.”


“ Yes Madam Admiral!” replied Artsin, losing his personal battle over a smile.


Laran stood and walked aft past the saluting Fleet troupers at the mouth of the control corridor. On the bridge, Captain Artsin stood and looked at his executive officer. She heard him mutter something crudely respectful she was not intended to.


“ She has one hell of a sense of humor! I might have had him keel-hauled.”

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Command and Control Complex – Xuchpra City, Thyferra
Southern Annex
Bureau of Imperial Intelligence


“ Welcome back, Director.”


“ It is good to be back. I grew up there, you know, but have been back too infrequently for it to feel…comfortable…any longer.”


“ I believe I understand, sir.”


Director Latt regarded his relatively new aide-de-camp, a former officer of the Fleet Intelligence Corps. Large and grim-faced, he would more easily fit into a stormtrooper’s armor than the all-black uniform of an Intelligence Colonel. He had managed however, adding the unneeded M43 visor cap worn by duty officers to his ensemble to blend in. Most of the beings throughout Intelligence were of a smaller size, a fact that allowed the Director a smile whenever his thickly-muscled attaché approached.


Having recalled the Colonel’s file from memory, he had been raised an only child to a single mother on now-Sith occupied Trallus. He had not seen his mother in many years, and the last time they spoke left them on good terms. Rumor – which were all too common amongst the spies and analysts of intellectuals of Intelligence – had it that he requested every high-level assignment ever granted him, hoping to use his power and position to ascertain her location.


Unfortunate that the Sith had her killed. I dread the day when he finds this out. The Director then put that thought out of his mind, cataloguing it for later mulling. Now, there was another matter he fleetingly remembered.


“ You have what I requested?”


“ Yes sir,” the Colonel replied, handing the Director the datapad as the pair came up on the surface-level lobby.


“ Excellent.” They continued on, walking slowly as not to hit anything, the Colonel litrally guiding his superior about.


…Brief typhoons washed over the Calamari city of Trebizond yesterday morning, leaving several hundred dead as parts of the floating metropolis collapsed. Four high-ranking Mon Calamari meteorologists resigned shortly thereafter, failing to inform the recently completed city of the impending danger…


…leaving fifty wounded and hundreds more shaken. Though stirred, the jubilation over soaring stocks to a new high continues still and no charges are expected to be filed by any involved. The exchange market maash had not been seen on Raltiir for eight years, ending a predicted recession before it could strike…


…the Balmorran representative was all right and protested against all entreaties to go to hospital. The fate of the would-be assassin remained a mystery as police vastly widened the cordoned-off area…


“ Wonderful!” Latt exclaimed, having persued the first three news excerpts in their entireity.


Colonel Tyri had as well, and was confused. None of them were anything affecting the Empire, although things were likely to grow heated on Coruscant as Balmorran Inquisitors searched for clues. The officer could not resist the urge to ask.


“ Nothing of note you say! Only if you look with closed eyes. There is a code hidden in one of these articles.”


“ A Code, sir?”


“ Yes! Even an encrypted signal can be intercepted and broken down over time, and what I am doing cannot be risked like that. So I had the sender hide the coded message in plain sight. This article was not written by Jasse Hallmes of the Imperial City Tribune, but rather an Imperial Intelligence operative who submitted the report in his stead. It was published, and was accurate to a ‘t.’”


“ I am afraid I fail to see the code, sir.”


“ Aha!,” Latt grinned, reminding the Colonel of Admiral Lei Lebron on whom he had all too recently composed an Intelligence dossier. The code is in the words. Or rather, their letters. I needed a status report from my Rim Project, and so we agreed that beginning with the word Balmorra, the first letter of every other word would stand for a word of the report.”


“ Wouldn’t words double?”


“ It was prearranged so no matter what, we would know.”


“ So what does it say?”


“ Battle: Wounded. Rim Project Advancing. Time To Target’s Obliteration: Week.”


“ Ah,” the Colonel replied, feigning an ephiany. The Director could not be fooled, and laughed just the same.


The Colonel did not need to know. Only he did. The more people who knew only the smallest parts of the grand scheme, the more comfortable the Director felt. With a smile on his face, Latt and Tyir headed for a briefing with Grand Admiral Desaria.

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Command and Control
Senior Staff Briefing – Western Annex



“ Greetings, Field Marshal,” said the Grand Admiral as he extended his hand to the Fighter Corps chief. Both men were well-rested and well groomed, both eagerly anticipating the combined forces briefing.


“ Gentlemen!” exclaimed Marshal Prem, moving over to the pair with open arms. The Chief of the Imperial General Staff had once been a prime human specimen, but had allowed the lack of excitement at High Command go to his head. The flawless form that had once been his fell victim to lavish Thyferran cuisine and the well-prepared and oft massive meals served to Imperial personnel planet-side. Around his tunic now hung a belt of paunch, overflowing his regulation belt by a barely-acceptable medium.


“ Marshal,” Desaria and von Laang said, exchanging handshakes with the other. The trio had not been assembled since the beginning of the Senex Campaign, and as they oft served together, it was a warm reunion. The Grand Admiral had been the first to arrive to Thyferra, with von Laang following on a hospital ship and the Marshal on a luxury liner, the Rattria. Oddly enough, given their respective backgrounds, they represented the three foundational pieces of Sovereign society: Marshal Prem, despite his midsection, represented the physically-fit standard citizen, coming from a normal family and deciding on a career only after his mandatory post-university service was complete. Grand Admiral Desaria typified the Imperial aristocracy and the officer corps itself, keeping both honour and regality at the forefront. Field Marshal von Laang personified the highly respected humanoid quarter of the Sovereignty, its people less xenophobic than the Empire had been, those who were alien amongst them proving to be as capable if not more so than their human counter-parts.


Other officers from various service arms and departments filled in the room, taking their assigned places along either side of a bent-sided rectangular table. At one head sat Grand Admiral Desaria, Supreme Commander of Sovereign Military Forces; at the other sat Maisson Latt, Director of Imperial Intelligence.


Only after stewards had brought cups of Tarkailian caf and breakfast rolls then retired did the meeting begin.


“ From what I understand, nearly fifty-three systems are now under Imperial control in the Senex Sector. Is this true?” asked Desaria before taking coaster in hand and cup the other. The vanilla-like aroma of the Tarkailian herb – ravva – was very pleasing , making the mix doubtless the Admiral’s favorite of all imported morning drinks.


General of Artillery Antoni Raviiat rasped his knuckles on the polished black surface of the conference table, unable to speak with the cap to his lips. When he had swallowed and wiped away a missed drop, he chimed in. “ One of my officers has been going on about Senex being taken and Juvex only weeks from falling. Rumors are spreading like wildfire, even with the news services everywhere along the lines.”


Desaria nodded to the Garrison Commander of Bespin. The Grand Admiral’s chief of staff was the first to reply, however.


“ Sir, that is nearly correct. Freughte fell five days ago, the last warlord stronghold in that region. Admiral Messhir’s squadron, which was being held to exploit the breach, advanced through the sector and rendezvoused with Commodore Treetu at the Juvex border. Almost every enemy world, allied or independent, is now bereft of supplies and reinforcements. We need not attack anywhere in that sector; the lack of provisions will force the garrisons’ capitulation.”


“ Here here!” said Count Praxis Kamorn, Colonel General and Commandant of the Stormtroopers. With a hearty bellow, he tapped his hand against the table top as a staff-type applause. Others fell suit, Desaria allowing the sophisticated jubilation a moment or two to reign.


“ And Juvex?” The Grand Admiral had been out of touch on the thirty-seven hour journey in hyperspace, and at a high-level briefing there was no better time to get up to speed.


Marshal Prem took up a knife and began smearing a Corellian jam on a crescent-shaped roll. “ Security forces are moving into the rear areas, freeing up a good portion of our offensive materiale for a second offensive. The General Staff has, pending your approval, drawn up plans for a four-stage assault on the last pocket of résistance, roughly encompassing thirty systems. There are several heavy warships on station there with a few dozen supporting vessels, but rumor has it their morale is dropping. No more than a month of concerted operations and Juvex will be ours.”


“ They are not merely rumors, Marshal.”


Many sets of eyes swung slowly down the table to the black-uniformed Intelligence czar. Latt rarely attended the briefings, using ‘pressing operations’ as an excuse to get away. Fleet or Army officers called their Intelligence liaisons up to filll his vacancy, but none could match the shadowy presence or wealth of torrid information Latt possessed.


“ Oh?” the stocky Marshal asked, ripping off a good-sized portion of the roll. Many thought it was his appetite, Desaria thinking it was a signal to the Director to show deference to the decorated staff officer.


“ Indeed. Since the beginning of the war, we have been able to infiltrate fifty operatives onto various warships throughout the sector, and all serving different warlords. Fifteen of them remain in the Juvex Sector, and they report the rumors true. For example, the Captain of the Victory Destroyer Animus plans to surrender his crew but scuttle his ship when Sovereign forces come within range of Svindella, the world Commodore Bracten tasked him with defending.”


“ So how much resistance can we expect?” asked Field Marshal Archduke la Grange, Acting Commander of the Fleet Assault Corps. The grey-haired Thyferran noble had assumed his superior’s role when the latter was killed in a pirate raid while on vacation.


“ On the ground, most of the stormtroopers and Fleet officers remain loyal to their warlords, the Army and most ship-based Fleet officers giving serious consideration to surrender or joining us.”


“ Then we should send a message to them. Bombard your own planets, we well let you go!”


Prem’s sarcastic though practical quip brought some hearty laughs from the assembled senior officers.


The Grand Admiral stood and very slowly moved to the side of the table. His hands rested at the small of his back and his eyes gazed forward. The laughter hushed.


“ I read a report when I arrived on an assassination attempt on the life of Moff Jerr, the man I assigned to act as political commander of the Senex Sector. Most of you have read this report. I wish to know why. And more importantly, I want to know what leads have been acquired.”


All eyes again turned towards Director Latt who did not pale at the chance to shine. “ The attempt was not on his life, Admiral. It was on yours.”


The eyes which gazed down the table now widened to chasm size with the Intelligence officer’s words. The floor was now his, as was all attention, including the Grand Admiral’s.


“ Inquisitoriate troops searching the surrounding area found the remains of an FXK 6, a MerrSonn remote operated warhead launching platform. Given the lack of input panels, we made the assumption it was pre-programmed. We surmise that when the shuttle landed, it armed. The weapon kept the shuttle on its screens, and when it took off again, the warhead fired.


“ You, Admiral Desaria, were originally scheduled to arrive, but had to cancel. Admiral Savvitt arrived in a Lambda not unlike the one you would have taken, and had the same escort. Formalities did not cease. There was no indication that you would not arrive to any other parties, so no one would have known he would arrive in your stead. Thusly, he was not the target. And Moff Jerr! He takes so many strolls with little as little escort as he can manage they would have been stupid not to get him then.”


“ And who is behind it?”


“ That is the mystery, isn’t it?” Latt replied, smug. Desaria’s face showed no emotion, but his emerald eyes were aflame with impatience. “ As of yet, the culprits are unknown. We do know that the FXK has not been manufactured in twenty years. The last customer was the head of New Republic Intelligence who purchased a thousand. There are only two forces with the ability – or want – to repair such undated weapons. Emperor Kiterix of Balmorra, and the New Republic which clings to everything it gets, regardless.”


“ It could not have been the Balmorrans. They had too much internal conflict to look outside their own borders. But why the Republic?”


There was no answer to the Grand Admiral’s spoken question, just silence. An aide arrived in the midst of the calm and delivered a message to Desaria, who left immediately.


The meeting broke up shortly thereafter, incomplete but sufficient.


((OOC Note: Grand Admiral Desaria's Actions continued in Who Needs Bacta, all others continued here. The two run concurrent))

[Telan Desaria]

Somewhere in the Bastion Sector


Admiral Sokolov had drifted to sleep on the bridge; his head seemed to be fixed forward, arms draped over the sides of his command chair. Around him, the officers and crew of the Discrepant went about their business as usual, wanting not to wake him, nor be lax in their duties to remain quiet.


The Captain sat on duty as well within the crew pit, remaining with his Admiral at all times. For three sleepless days, the pair had manned their posts on the command deck, leaving only for brief sojourns to the refresher. Meals were brought foreward by shift changes, droids running in drinks for all.


Another five days remained of the Star Destroyer’s voyage, and several days had passed since its fateful engagement with the refitted Invincible-class Cruiser. Since it vanished, there had been no further contact. What remained of the TIE Vanguard squadron searched far and wide to find a sign, but was left with none; it was not easy to find a ship with a cloaking device.


The ship’s roster had been somewhat refilled as the wounded men and soldiers returned to duty, the mood only more open, but still somber.


Many men congregated in the ship’s recreation facilities to try the games they had left dormant a week before. Whatever skills had atrophied returned to peak after the lights went on again. Tesst Ball, rugby, Dejark Battles, unarmed combat championships, and many more were revived, officers as high as the XO participating or watching. Life was returning to normal at a slow crawl; the crew of the flagship had to be an example for the other crews, no matter how small that number.


“ Admiral, we have a contact. Five thousand kilometers and closing. She’s bearing right for us!”


The Captain looked furiously at the relaying officer until the message had sunk in. Informing the Admiral was the wise decision, and he let the matter pass.


Sokolov’s eyes widened as if he had never slept. Without a yawn, stretch, or gasp of air he asked,” is their course towards us, or are we merely crossing their path?”


“ From what I get of her micro-calcs, she’s heading for us sir. With a passion!”


Sokolov shot his flag captain an amazed stare. The Invincible Cruiser must have gotten a message out, and someone was coming to investigate.


“ Raise shields. Ready forward batteries. As soon as she comes within range, destroy her. Deploy a fighter squadron as pickets, just as a precaution.”


Acknowledgements chorused through the bridge and the Discrepant charged itself for battle, no matter how brief. Alarm klaxons sounded in every corner of the ship, crewmen dropping their drinks and instruments to process the message: General Quarters. Barely a millisecond passed as they realized what it meant than a third of the crew was rushing from ‘off stations’ to duty stations.


“ Time to target?”


“ Five minutes, sir.”


“ Good. We know the Invic had a friend. But I wonder where she is now…”

[Telan Desaria]

Xucphra City, Thyferra

Prefecture of the Imperial Treasury,
Office of Expeditures
Ministorium Fiscales


The doors to the outer office swung open with a gentle push, exposing the antechamber to the opulent north hall of the Imperial Grand Administration Building, center for all diplomatic and political goings-on within the Sovereignty. Through the gap left between the hand carved entrance strode a man of no more than forty, a good guess because of the power which flowed from him. By a solitary glance at another location, one could not guess so. White hairs and sagging features were nowhere to be found on him.


“ Good morning, Lord Minister,” said a light-haired female secretary, rising slightly from her chair before motioned to resume her positon. Another female approached from an adjoining office and took the minister’s suit jacket, placing the light black blazer on a rack in her office.


The strapping lad took several data discs and folded flimsiplasts from a small tray and stepped through another set of doors between the seated secretary’s desk and the walkway to the other room.


Inside the second set of doors was the Minister’s Office, its wooden walls inside a stark contrast to the polished durasteel reflecting the morning sun outside. Through the tall viewports situated behind a wide and equally lavish desk could be seen Xucphra City, rising up around the governmental headquarters.


Lord Minister Sashan Vorru, illegitimate son of the famed Minister of the Interior under Director Isard, tossed the cards and plasts onto his desk matte and drew closed the blinds behind him. Grasping a small backed chair with a firm hand, he sat down and exhaled, the omnipresent pomp and circumstance of entering the building finally closed.


Desaria may love it, and the people may cheer, but I’m tired of it! With a sigh, Vorru picked up the first data disc and inserted the small red square into the side of his pad. The prior evening’s happenings were lain out in a news-type format, prepared by Imperial Intelligence before it was filtered through security and propaganda channels.


The Lord Minister of External Expenditures glanced up from his reading as a side door opened and in walked his chief of staff, a thin and tall gentleman of barely twenty, propelled up the bureaucratic ladder through apprenticeship and ambition.


At the sight of the gifted youth, the Lord Minister replaced the pad onto his desk top and smiled. “ Xosa, how are you? Did you rest well?”


“ I sense a barbed question in there, sir.”


Vorru laughed a laugh equal with his stature, powerful and brunt. “ Indeed you should!”


Xora Satee moved to one of two seats ahead of the stretched desk and hid his blushing face behind a flimsiplast folder. He could ill find the courage to retort, instead shooting back only a concealed smile.


“ I Trust you had fun, then?” the Minister asked, shuffling items about and grinning.


“ I did, sir. I am most grateful. It was a wonderful evening.”


“ It better have been! That dinner cost be twenty-four hundred credits! But it was worth it. He came in this morning practically skipping through my den. My son drives me mad, so anything you can do to take him off my hands, I owe you.”


“ Very well sir,” the chief replied, and re-opened the folder he had brought with him. “ I have the requisitions for this week’s appropriation meeting.”


“ Wonderful,” the Lord Minister replied, sardonically. “ Let’s see.”


The aide handed the only slightly older gentleman his folder, who opened it and lightly skimmed the outlined summary. Monetary requisitions from every branch of the government awaited him, from military organizations such as the Fleet and Intelligence to agencies such as the Imperial Corps of Civil Engineers. Every aspect of their budget lay outlined in terabytes of folders, briefs, and dossiers. It was the task of the Expenditure Office to explore the needs and wants of the Empire, price them, and pay for them.


The pair sat down to work and went over the general outline for several hours, passing over lunch and several other refreshments as they toiled into the evening hours.


“ What do you know of Imperial Intelligence, Xosa?” the Lord Minister asked, his tie loosened and tunic undone.


The aide glanced up and shrugged. “ Not much sir, why do you ask?”


“ I was just wondering. There is an invoice here to be paid in the amount of fourteen – point – eight million credits to the Crayven Corporation out of Sluis Van. They did at one point do work for us refurbishing some older patrol cruisers, but that hasn’t been for some time. And with Sluis in the Rebel’s control, I am curious.”


The Minister looked up. “ Fifteen million is not a lot of money on Thyferra, but out there it is. Something is not right here.”


He handed a flimsiplast to the aide. “ Pass this on to the Prefect.”

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial High Command – Department of Military Research
Isle of Orrl, Thyferra


“ How is it coming?” came a voice from around the open door’s corner. The sole occupant of the room looked up from a wide slanted terminal over which he had perched himself.


“ Who goes there?” he called, moving his left hand from a stylus to the dark holster hung at his side.


From around the corner appeared a black uniformed officer bearing a Second Lieutenant’s plaque, his tunic mostly covered by a white lab coat slung over-shoulder. An optical enhancement lens sat over his right eye, its emerald hue giving a green tint to the officer’s eye and the skins surrounding it.


“ Damn it, Adrian!” the seated scientist chided, quickly placing his hand back to the stylus and it to the terminal under his returned gaze.


The slightly younger invader of the other’s privacy grinned from ear to ear. With a shift of his body the Lieutenant stood from against the door and moved over his companion’s desk. “ And what are we working on that has prevented us from going out for the last month?”


Lieutenant Evrem grimaced. He had in fact been remiss in spending anytime with his friends. Over the span of several weeks he had departed for work, remained at the Lab long past his shift, returned home to refresh his system with food, drink, and sleep, only to return barely a half-dozen hours later. While completely and literally immersing himself in his work, greatly pleasing his superiors and coworkers on the Pteradon Project, the Lieutenant had completely forgotten he had a life outside of the Imperial Department of Military Research.


Evram took a deep breath and again put down his stylus. Deliberately he turned his high-columned swivel chair towards his fair-haired friend. “ What’s your security clearance?”


The other’s face turned from civility and youthful delight into bemusement. “ You’re serious?”


Lieutenant Evram did not change at all.


“ You’re serious.” This time it was no question. Sighing, he handed his best friend a small device, brandishing a code cylinder from his coat-hidden tunic pocket. “ This had better be good.”


“ It is,” replied Evram, a devious smiling crossing his face. “ A new drive system. I’ve been working on this for a long time – “


“ I know,” Lieutenant Exes interrupted.


“ – and from what I’ve engineered, this will push its carrier at standard speed with only a quarter of the required energy!”


“ You’ve tested it?”


“ Twice. Both design models are already in orbit mounted on a retired Dreadnaught. I’ve been tinkering with the design since the end of the third trial – it worked, then – to fit it into its new housing.”


There was no one in the room, and indeed that entire expanse of the Command complex, but Evram lowered his voice nevertheless. “ A new Destroyer design has been commissioned. The first four keels have already been layed!”


“ Without a finished propulsion plant? You’ve been running on too much caf.”


“ No, I’m serious. The Corps is building them in sections. Once I’ve finished reconfiguring the design, they’ll build them here and haul them to the yards.”


“ Which yards. All six Destroyer bays on the Thyferran yard are full! They won’t be launched fro three months.”


“ You know that Flight project we’ve heard rumors about?”


Exes nodded affirmatively, having dated the Intelligence officer who first mentioned it.


“ It’s not just a ‘Wild’ rumor!” Evram began laughing hysterically, pleased at his own intellectual pun. Exes stood in silence until comprehension finally dawned upon him.

[Telan Desaria]

Somewhere in the Bastion Sector


The Discrepant had to alter its course slightly as it moved to intercept the small freighter. The tactical officer and bridge gunnery coordinator shared words with the Admiral as the range closed between the Star Destroyer and its target. At one hundred kilometers she would slow and inform the vessel she had been commandeered. At fifty kilometers, bow heavy turbolaser turrets would open up shredding the thin-scaled craft like flimsiplast.


“ Send the signal,” Sokolov ordered, stroking his chin as he watched the craft grow in the bow viewports.


“ Aye sir,” Captain Lasson replied, turning and nodding to the communications chief. In turn, he punched several buttons and broadcast a message the Captain had recorded moments prior.


Unidentified Vessel. You have by way of course malfunction entered Bastion Sector space, under Imperial Martial Law. Under this jurisdiction, and as you have entered a restricted section of space, your vessel will be interned by the Imperial Navy for an unspecified duration and boarded. Lower your shields.


“ Message sent, Captain,” the warrant officer reported, looking up from his console.


“ Excellent. Time to target?”


“ One minute.”


“ Admiral!” the communications chief shouted, placing his right hand firmly over the
earpiece on his head. “ She’s replying. Audio only.”


Lasson gestured and the chief hit one more dial, the bridge filling with a shrill static for a moment.


This is the Perlemian Free Trade Sivvronn. We have paid all taxes levied on our voyage. Bastion control cleared us for this route! I demand an explanation.


Lasson arched an eyebrow, the warship itself out of contact with any and all other ships – save the Invinicible.


Admiral Sokolov was oddified as well – but then again, they had lied as a pretense for destroying the ship. The region they were in was far from restricted.


“ No matter. Fire!”


The bow gunners received their orders a moment too late, as the small craft detected the turrets swinging into operational positions. Her maneuvering thrusters kicked in and she dove as if a fighter. For a one hundred-meter ore hauler, it was surpisingly maneuverable.


“ She’s running, sir!” reported the tactical officer.


Sokolov was going to countermand his previous order and send the TIE pickets after it, but the sensor chief screamed loudly and widly.


“ Cruiser decloaking off the port bow!”

[Telan Desaria]

This thread is not complete.

After some deliberation, I have decided to revive this story.

I hope you like. Some old favorites will be joining me soon.

[Telan Desaria]

Deep Space – Near Adumar


The spoken words hit Admiral Sokolov as a salvo of missiles flaring across his shields. Oddly, though, as the realization took hold, the warship ahead did not fire. Instead it maneuvered in such a way that the previously-thought unaligned freightor could dock with its dorsal hull. There, it looked much like a part of the dorsal superstructure.


“ Drop aft shields; reroute power to all bow emitters. All crews ready for action. Helm, evasive action. Bring us across his path!”


The Admiral sat there as his faithful flag Captain commenced the action without his orders. Both knew what was required of the ship and its crew. Both also knew that a fully operational Imperial III-class Star Destroyer could outmatch an aging Invincible-class Cruiser.


Unfortunately, the cruiser was not as typical as the Discrepant’s crew would have liked. After the engagement which had occurred but three days before, the Destroyer was not fully operational.


“ Range?”


“ We’re within effective range, sir. A good ways in from standoff fire.”


Lasson smiled at the tactical officer and looked forward with a snare. “ Then give her a taste of fire, Lieutenant. Bring her arrogance down a notch.”


There was little need to reply, as both the tactical officer’s hands worked furiously to dispatch commands to the commanders of weapons batteries throughout the ship. No time had passed before burly gunners and their mates made the final preparation or fire – connecting the battery power source to the weapon itself. Milliseconds turned over and the guns were charged. All clear lights in the Battery Commander’s station blinked green, and the command to fire was given. No rock could be felt as the guns were fired as the Destroyer’s inertial dampeners working at full capacity.


Officers and crew watched from the command tower as batteries on both flanks fired a salvo at their tormentor. A feeling of spite, an ominous feeling of pride washed over the Star Destroyer’s operators as the first blasts impacted with the other ship’s shields. Dozens of small explosions flared up along the length of the hull as energy combusted into flame.


“ Cease fire, all guns. All batteries commence linked fire – independent.”


“ Ay-“


The order to continue the onslaught in a more concentrated manner was not confirmed by the tactical officer whose voice trailed off into nothingness as several icons began appearing on one of three monitors he dutifully watched.


“ Admiral. Captain. She’s bringing her shields on-line now.”


Lasson turned aft from the catwalk and drilled an angry glare into his commander. “ The shields must have been up! No cruiser that old could have withstood a minute long defilade on armor alone!”


Sokolov unsteepled his fingers and tightly clenched his hands on the arms of his command chair. Imperceptibly he gulped down a breath of air. “ No, Captain, she could have. We are dealing with a heavily modified craft, and we knew that. That is why she hasn’t fired back. That is why she did not maneuver. The Captain of that ship wants us to know we have underestimated his ship, wants us to see that he can dispatch us with ease.”


“ Orders, sir?” asked the Discrepant’s executive officer. Perspiration oozed from every pore in the man’s forehead.


Sokolov tightened his grip, if possible. “ He wants to kill us, he will have to work at it. Engineering – all power, auxiliary and unneeded flows are to be routed through the shield generators. Keep them up as long as possible. Guns – continual fire, independent by battery. Helm – put us in line with them and run us past at best speed. Arc to port so we don’t give her our aft as we turn.”


“ Aye sir!” came the replies. Lasson swallowed hard as well and flexed with his wounded arm. He had always supported his Admiral, and would do so until his death. Despite this unflinching loyalty, he was resigned that such demise would come sooner than expected.

[Remnant Forces]

The last three months had been hell for the Remnant based on Kamaar. After the massacre that had occurred at Thulsa the war become bloody. The remnants of the Three-seventeenth had been reassembled and then been used as the spearhead of an Invasion of Sorini no more then four days later. The battle that occurred at Sorini was magnificent on all scales. The new Remnant fleet had arrived on the edge of the planet in orbit waiting for it was the Black Thrust . The Executor class Star Destroyer that was forever old and was once the command ship of a Commodore Lebron.

The battle began by the two star destroyers of the Remnant and there slew of gunships flanking the Thrust from either side, while bombers and fighters began engaging each other. The battle was long and drawn out, fifty minutes went by before a conclusion began too drawn to an end. More than half of the Remnant fleet was destroyed, the rest in dire need of an overhaul. The Thrust on the other hand, was a ball of molten durasteel afloat in space.

Meanwhile, planet side, about ten thousand soldiers landed in a blitz on the capital city. The remaining troops of the Three-Seventeen alongside troops of the Two-Sixty-Eight landed on the outskirts of the capitol, and began a charge to the actual capitol building itself. They had one mission, find the governor and kill him. More than fifteen thousand Quad-Alliance soldiers were presnt within the capital city. Luckily for the Imperial soldiers they were conscripts and illtrained at that. In three hours the city was overrun and the governor found. Fifty-five mintues later after Sorini's unconditional surrender to the Imperial Remnant she was executed for treason against the Empire.

For the next several weeks there had been skirmishes along the new boundries, not many people died from these fights but they were just the tremors before the big one. It happened at Gavingian. The bulk of the Alliance's fleet was there, waiting for the Remnant to attack. And attack they did. With three star destroyers, half a dozen cruisers and about twenty frigates and gunships the Alliance set up in what will forever be remembered as the Krun manuver. The Star destroyers set up in a tight triangle. No more than fifteen meters between them. The smaller frigates and gunships went in behind, dangerously close the the engines. But preformed correctly-- like done at Gavingian--the smaller craft are litterally masked from sensors proving to be a nasty surprise to those that fell ill to the attack.

The Kamaarians arrived with two Leviathan mark II cruisers, five strike cruisers and nearly two dozen gunships. The Krun Manuever went as planned and wiped out the Colonel's command ship in the first strike. The Strike cruisers and Leviathan continued to fight, but some of the more junior officers-- those in command of the gunships-- were hesitant. A young Leuiteniant by the name of Ryan Pode in command of the gunship Shadowdust gave out orders to the other gunships, once again unifying the soldiers of Kamaar.

[Telan Desaria]

Invincible-class Heavy Cruiser Staunch
Bridge


“ Bring the forward shield emitters on line. Shore up the hull and ready us for a fight.”


“ As ordered, Captain.”


Major Tomas Parker grabbed at the brim of his cap and pulled it tight against his black-haired skull. One quick motion of his right hand brought a harness strap across his lap, locking him into the captain’s chair. Silently, he cursed the long-dead designers of the ship for including such a feature in the line, as it served no true purpose and was very uncomfortable to any human male. Thus was the reason any ship built within the last three-quarters of a century lacked such frivolous precautions.


Old Republic captains did have a habit of abandoning ship before there was any danger, which might explain it. Better die a hero than live a coward – if not at will.


“ Sir, she’s coming toward us.”


Parker marveled at the view through the forward holoscreen. Before him, the angular warship listed towards his and turned to pass on the starboard. The Star Destroyer was a sight to see, its hull covered with carbon scoring and in many places leaking atmosphere and debris.


“ They want to play. According to my orders, I’ve got to keep this up for another week! I can’t take the agony!”


The Major’s first officer chuckled to himself and turned towards his station. Even with one of the most deadly vessels in existence bearing down on them, the black-uniformed crew of the Staunch managed to exchange gallows humor. Every one knew he was safe in the refitted monstrosity to which they had been assigned.


At barely the effective range of a Serr-V Heavy Turbolaser, the type both mounted, a cascade of energy and fire passed between the cylinder and the wedge. Flank mounted missile batteries on the Invincible-class Cruiser fired fiercely into the honeycomb, as the complex between a Destroyer’s dorsal and ventral hulls was known. At such small ranges, the explosions intensified and the affect of the shields was nill.


Gunners of the energy weapons on both combatants let loose in wild fusillades at their enemy. Clouds of steel and armor grew from the wake of fluorescent plumes. Oxygen fed the fires before the cold vastness of space could squelch them. Infernos flared and died, but left in their wake regardless of duration. Bodies floated free with dislodged bulkheads, the only reminders that there had once been life in the darkness.


“ She’s going wide around the aft, keeping her backside covered.”


“ They learned from the last time, probably routed all power to fore and flank deflectors. Engage the cloak.”

[Ryan Pode]

The Shadowdust made a hard turn to portside narrowly evading a fury of turbolaser fire coming from one of the Star Destroyers. The battle was well underway and Captain Leuitenant Pode had become a figure of authority as he was commanding a pack of gunships and some fighters. While considerably large for the manuevers that were being used upon the Shadowdust, she reacted quite well to the need for speed and agility, while returning fire to the enemy.

"Engines, give me more power!" Demanded Pode.

"Aye." Responded the chief engineer.

"Twin Skips 'leven o'clock," yelled a sensor officer referring to the two skipray blastboats coming at them to intercept.

"We lost the Teivos!" Shouted another, the Tevios being a gunship in the pack.

Pode cursed, "Forward batteries on the skiprays, keep the keel's on that big boy." Big boy referring to the Star destroyer, "Eyes, find me a weakness in their hull. Anything."

"Aye Cap'n." Responded Eyes. The two skiprays fired off missiles in a vain attempt to bring down the Shadowdust, the missiles all being picked out of the air by laser batteries and then the first skipray to come about blew apart as several turbolaser beams converged on its cockpit sending the crew into a firey ball of molten steel.

"Give me a report on the pack!"

"7 gunships, twenty-sev-- twenty-six fighters." Reported a sensors officer.

"Found a hole Cap." Eyes declared, "Fifty-nine by one-oh-three."

"Good. Tell the pack. All weapons fire there on my mark." He waited for his fleet to respond, then gave the order "Fire!"

As ordered the seven gunships and twenty-six fighters opened fire on that mark, the fighters naturally came just after the gunships as their targetting computers weren't as good. Red bolts of energy lanced out followed by orange and blue glow of missiles to that one spot. The hull errupted in a giant explosion as shrapnel from the ship jut out into space, one larger peice smacking into the hull of a gunship, though, hundreds of smaller pieces rained onto all.

"Damage report!"

"Shields, 53% and holding. We lost two more fighters and the Esolc. We lost tube three as well." The hull began to shudder as turbolaser fire began to rain down on it.

"What in Sam Hill?!?"

"Its the Gavingian's Pride," the now maimed star destroyer, "She went into a spin on the X and now has a dozen or so turbolasers on us."

"Evasive action! Get us out before the rest of those guns come about.'

"Aye."

"Sir! Four gunships and a Strike [Cruiser] approching at noon." Eyes yelled.

[Telan Desaria]

Somewhere in the Bastion Sector


“ Gone! Those cowards! Why don’t they stay and fight instead of toying with us?” Lasson pounded a clenched fist atop the crew pit rail.


“ Because, Captain, they do not have to. Every time they engage us, we lose power we cannot replace, and men we cannot afford to part with. Time, also. We are already two days behind schedule, with three more until we reach our rendezvous point. Whomever is attacking us need stall us for two additional days and we shall not make our appointment. Shortly thereafter, a Republic task force will come through this sector and wipe the Empire from the map.”


“ You think this is a trap to stop our meeting?”


Rare indeed was that this discussion was happening the middle of the bridge; rarer still was that Sokolov was maintaining his calm. Unlike many other men to be awarded a flag, the rough-edged Commenorian oft lost his temper at disrespectful subordinates (though Lasson had never incurred the Admiral’s wrath).


“ What other purpose could there be? Could we have stumbled onto a cloaked, heavily modified, yet typically obsolete warship anonymous in its affiliation that took an Imperial-class Star Destroyer as a target of opportunity in the fringe of the Galaxy? I have never believed in coincidence.”


“ But no one knew!”


Anger began to build in the Admiral, evidenced by a slight clenching of his teeth. “ Obviously it was found out and sent to someone who did not share my appraisal of the situation.”


The Captain knew when to quit, and discretely exited the conversation, then the bridge itself. Admiral Sokolov was left at the center of a hushed deck with his thoughts.

[Ryan Pode]

The Shadowdust along with its pack and fighter support began exchanging fire with the still far-off enemy pack of gunships and strike cruiser. The Remnant gunships had truly proved themselves in this war so far, becoming the ship of choice among commanders for their durability and versatility when it came to missions. Designed to be much like the popular corellian gunship, the Remnant gunship boasted six turbolaser batteries, four AMID cannons and four missile tubes with refillable magazines of five.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere two dozen missiles fell upon one of the gunships in the rear, blowing it to tiny bits. A dozen TIE/Advanced came shooting out from behind the star destroyer wreckage, catching the pack in a crossfire. Their ambush proved very well as not only did they knock out a gunship but they were able to pick off a few fighters before they could respond. In minutes, the fight was over in that area, the remnant gunship were cornered and outgunned. Of the eight gunships and thirty-six fighters they fell under Pode's command, four gunships and seven fighters remained.

"Sir... they are hailing us."

"What do they want?" Pode wiped some blood of his own blood off his face.

"Our surrender..." He said grimly.

[Telan Desaria]

Somewhere in the Bastion Sector - two weeks later...



Admiral Sokolov looked around and took in a deep breath and his eyes poured over the contents of his stately office. It was the very nature of space that had defined the Admiral's career. As a boy he had been called to the stars and sought a career among them. As had many admirals throughout the recorded history of the galaxy, he dreaded to set foot on a planet and kept a settled home only as a formality.


With a heavy hand the Admiral took up a padd and begna to type, the device's soft humm filling the room. It would have been impossible for any man to read Sokolov's face for it sat emotionless and adrift in a sea of thought.


It is with great regret I cannot attend. My ship is under attack. All propulsion is down...


Sokolov turned his face away from the LED display before him and shielded his eyes, a stray shower of sparks falling from the bulkheads above. When the stream ceased, Sokolov resumed. Only one hand could type away at the Basic characters, the other having been torn from its fleshed mooring by a violent missile detonation near the bridge.


...I have ordered my men to hold to the last, for any order of evacuation I give will mean their destruction. I still do not know who plagues us, but our rendezvous was uncovered.


Sokolov sighed anew.


...The New Republic was perhaps not destined to have this portion of Imperial Territory, nor was I to test fate. I am now paying the price of my actions in blood. I regret involving you and wasting so much of your time in waiting.

With my Deepest Regrets,

Admiral Anatoly Sokolov


One click of a secure key and the message was sent using pin point laser beams and hyper-velocity relay stations near the border.


Sokolov returned to the bridge where nearly every officer once tasked with an essential command lay dead or dying. Captain Lasson, almost holding in his bowels as his ships was consumed around him, valiantly attempted to maintain order. There was no use. Shields were down, all fighters had been destroyed, and what remained of operable gun turrets had been deprived of power.


The Discrepant was dying, and any hope of the Rim with it. Civil War would spread from the Remnant to encase the Syndicate and all that would remain of the Empire would be a few squabbling warlords kept at bay by the Core.


Sokolov drifted into unconsciousness fearing for the life of his only home.

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Grand Administration Building – Central Annex

Weekly Council Meeting of Interior Ministers

Xucrphra City, Thfyerra


“ I hope I am not interrupting anything,” quipped a tall and slightly aged gentleman entering a room filled to the brim with dapper yet all-too serious looking beings responsible for the civil governing of the Empire.


At the far end of a lozenge-shaped table directly opposite the room’s double doors sat Mikell de Nostradaum. He looked to be the youngest in the room when actually he was not, an appearance laboriously maintained by constant fitness training and exercise. One of the man’s two eyes had been lost many years before in the midst of an assassination attempt on the life of his superior – an attempt he had been wounded in to cover up his own involvement. As a politician, he had learned from the long gone Palpatine-era bureaucracy. His ambition was boundless but was content to rule under Grand Admiral Desaria’s graces.


“ You’re late, Lord Minister Vorru. For you, however, you’re right on time.”


The chief of the Imperial Treasury flashed a snide smile and moved to his seat at the far end of the table. Between the administrative head of the Empire and its Treasurer sat a dozen Ministers, each tasked with overseeing one of many pieces of the Imperial government. They looked to be lingering between late middle age and death, such was the affect their duties had upon them. Among the dignified and wholly ennobled group sat non-humans and females, all equal in their arrogant stature and high position.


Vorru unbuttoned the jacket to his suit, sat, and adjusted himself so he would feel completely at ease. His shifting caused quite a ruckus as his suit rustled against the ornately padded chair and he relished the consternation it caused for his peers. At forty years of age, he was as playful as he had ever been. “ At least I am consistent.”


Baronet Lucrius, lowest member of the aristocratic hierarchy, turned towards the Chancellor, as Nostradaum was officially titled. “ What of Loretia?”


Vorru was not one to stand on formality and did not allow the Chancellor time to reply. He rarely followed news of other agency’s happenings outside of daily briefings. “ Where?”


Nostradaum inhaled sharply. “ A small city in some forgotten atoll on Eriadu. The Fleet has annexed the entire region for the construction of a repair base and allowed the citizens to stay. Now, they are complaining some of the leakage from TIE Fuel storage pods is contaminating their water.”


Vorru was obviously not following. “ And this falls in Civil Construction’s lap…how?”


Lucrius sighed. “ One of them suggested we construct an artificial canal separating them from the storage area which would carry any contaminants into the sea. It’s rough enough to dilute them into a harmless state and will dissolve into nothingness within weeks.”


“ Ah.”


The Chancellor rolled his eye and ever so slightly turned in his seat towards the engineer of the lot. “ Run some plans past the Fleet Review board. If they don’t mind, go ahead. Forward a budget to Expenditures and get started.”


Vorru shrugged almost imperceptibly and opened the leather folder that held his own briefing to the attending ministers of state.


“ Well, if that is Civil Construction’s biggest concern, then allow me to bore you with more. Who here contracts with Sluis Van?”


Before that statement found itself lingering in the air there had been the occasional murmur of tapping of datapad keys extent. At its utterance, all noise ceased and silenced ruled the room.


“ Sluis Van is outside Imperial Borders!” Count Yetit Varr seemed to be truly offended by the intimation a loyal subject of the Empire would do such a dastardly deed when all life’s amenities could be found internally, either produced therein or purchased from the Fleet and its many stores of confiscated booty. As the only one in the room to have worn the uniform of a soldier before donning a politician’s garb, he took such matters with more indignation than his comrades.


“ I understand your sentiment, Count.” Vorru slid him a thick flimsiplast document styled entirely in Imperial Gothic, the official and highly elegant script of the Empire. “ A copy of funds dispersed by the Treasury to external sources. Look on page five.”


Count Varr had seven decades’ of Imperial citizenship on his back and yet he could not understand why a force as strong as the Empire was would deal with a power outside its own borders rather take such material outright. Many, including the Chancellor, believed he fell asleep throughout all of the Fragmentation. That the document existed made his eyes Mon Calamari-like in size.


“ Don’t look so shocked, Minister. What is on that page?” Chancellor Nostradaum sneered towards the eldest member of the ‘ruling council’ and then looked up to face his counterpart from the Treasury.


“ A small sum was requisitioned by an independent repair yard that is based at Sluis Van. Services had already been rendered and the matter was sealed. The receipts were signed by authorized representatives of TalonCorp.”


“ TalonCorp?!? Isn’t that one of Intel’s front companies?” Duchess Heerest, a gracefully aging heir to her father’s Zaltin shares and Minister of Resources.


Vorru nodded solemnly. “ It is indeed.”


“ Why would Imperial Intelligence use an external yard when we have three complexes at our own disposal?”


Nostradaum agreed with the unspoken concern evident of Vorru’s face. “ I don’t know. But I would like to find out. Military feuds divide empires and bring death to leaders. Us, for instance.”

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Command and Control Complex

Xucphra City, Thyferra


“ Morning, Jonas.”


A civilian came rose out of respect as Director Maisson Latt entered the antechamber of his spacious office overlooking the capital city of Thyferra. That the stylish and attractive female had risen was ordinary and most secretary’s did when their boss arrived; that her boss was the head of Imperial Intelligence might have jolted her to rise through fear alone. That was not an unpleasant thought to the Director as he relished his job. Sadistically so, in fact.


Latt wore a completely unmilitary business suit he had purchased the day before. The jacket was single breasted and was held together by s series of five clear gem buttons. Below he wore only a plain black dress shirt, pressed and as immaculate as his superior’s uniform. Despite the ensemble’s overall simplicity, such a combination was priced at five thousand credits, Imperial, at Surrin’s Department Store on Chandrila. He stood tall admiring his reflection in the polished wood surface of an end table along the wall.


Waiting for the Director as he bade the room’s interactive comfort control to open the window shades was a tall stack of datacards next to an equally high one of crystalsheets. Latt sighed: however much he enjoyed his job as a whole, he loathed paper work and administrative functions of any kind. And this is what my aides could not do!


There was nothing on the Director’s agenda that day, the last of the professional week before the three-day Thyferran weekend. Those in the Service of the Empire received no such respite automatically. It appeared that his day would be filled with his hated chore of signing and reviewing.


“ Director,” squawked a perfectly received voice from Latt’s recessed control panel. Pushing back the chair he had appropriate from a long-dead pirate chieftan, he keyed the pad and acknowledged his secretary.


“ Yes, Hildan?”


“ Sir, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”


Elorrians, Latt thought as he shook his head. Their females are excellent to observe but possess the brains of a beldarr. “ Does the gentleman have a name?”


“ Colonel Lazuros?”


“ Lazurus, Madam,’ Latt overheard in correction.


The name rang no bells in the Director’s extended memory so he admitted the unknown officer. When the doors parted, he still did not know the officer himself, but the red tunic, black breeches, and red-over-black rank plaque was impossible to forget: The Inquisitoriate.

[Telan Desaria]

Office of Grand Admiral Baron Telan Desaria
Imperial Command and Control Complex

Xucphra City, Thyferra


“ Are you sure what you are telling me is correct? You have double and triple checked this?”


Sashan Vorru was never one to cower before a superior, but in the presence of the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces who had only moments ago successfully reigned in his rage, he felt intimidated. He did not show it, of course, but just below the surface of his skin sweat was building faster than TIE/Ds on an assembly line. The Lord Minister of the Treasury was very thankful his other superior had chosen to speak.


“ Yes. Every asset we have not related to Intelligence was used. There is no mistake.”


Grand Admiral Desaria had been staring below the almost empathetic gazes of his two civil administrators at the edge of his desk. Were he not in uniform, a stray tear might have wormed its way out of his otherwise closed ducts. The information the men bore hurt deeply. Admiral Sokolov, ruler of the Imperial Syndicate, had been a friend of the Grand Admiral for many years, and had met several times long before the Fragmentation. That Admiral Sokolov had betrayed the Empire, he had also betrayed Desaria.


“ Bring him in.”


Mikell de Nostradaum nodded solemnly and shot a glance at Vorru. The latter quietly sighed as the Chancellor left to fetch Director Maisson Latt, waiting outside in the company of several large Inquisitoriate soldiers.

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Command and Control Center
Tarkin City, Bastion


“What do you propose we do now?”


The question loomed over the heads of the walking officers like a tempest that had yet to release its full furry on those below. Every being under it had been dampened by its might, but none had been drenched by its droplets of information, each piece of which could topple the fragile structure of order and tranquility they had built on Bastion.


“ The question is what can we do?”


For several dozen more meters, the gentlemen in their rainbow of uniforms, ranks, and organizations threw sporadic questions to the others, knowing that no answer could be expected. Without their patriarch they were as useless together as they were strong apart. Each had a gift for some nuance of command, but none had the skill to take every rein in hand. Outside the evening sun was disappearing below the ring of hills which surrounded the command complex; soon night would rule until the second sun chose to rear its head and bathe the former Remnant capital in light once more. Darkness would re - conquer light once more before the first sun would reappear.


A hundred meters down the wide glass-enclosed corridor, a naval officer stood with a few of his service comrades. Salutes abounded as they dissipated, a pair of them moving towards the mass of men who seemed to settle in the middle of the corridor between High Command and the Intelligence Annex.


“ I suppose we shall find out,” remarked one of the departmental chieftains as two officer approached.


“ Gentlemen, if you please,” stated the shorter of the two arrived naval officers, the speaker wearing a Commodore’s insignia, the other a Line Captain’s. The pair strode through the small sea of esteemed and senior functionaries, each one falling into place behind them. At a snail’s pace they followed, each step slow and deliberate. The hall was nearly half a kilometer in length: more than enough for whatever speech was to pass between them.


“ As you may or may not know, our commander is missing.”


“ Of course we know!” Major Carnissit bit out, thrusting his spare hand into one of his lab coat’s pockets. When it reappeared into view, a spicer was in his hand. Its acrid aroma gave those around him hideous facial expressions; the major, however, could smell nothing. He had been smoking Kessel-grade spice for twenty years, and the only reason his horrid addiction had been tolerated by his commanders and peers was his near-unparalleled talent at research and development, particularly of propulsion systems. Every next generation assault gunboat in any Imperial’s arsenal used his coolant system which had improved the engine’s lifespan for a thousand missions.


The senior of the two naval officers grimaced at the stench, but let the matter pass. “ He is missing, indeed. All who aware of this either presume he is dead, or believe he is alive. No one has any confirmation either way.”


“ Stop treading the same ground, Matthis!” The dark circles under Governor Ridders’ eyes were only one of many indicators to his lack of sleep since the news had crossed his desk.


“ If any of you allow me a complete sentence, I shall make myself clear. I will now let you in on a secret. Captain.”


Without turning his head to address those who followed, Line Captain Vivair spoke. “ A stasis probe found wreckage of the Akagi near Cesstin VII. The Akagi was the Admiral’s private corvette, a failsafe should his flagship come under attack. Only he could deploy it. We found no evidence of the Discrepant, but we did receive an automated beacon the Akagi only transmitted when Sokolov was aboard.”


“ Are you saying he is dead?” asked Major General Lawrence, commander of Bastion’s garrison forces, naval assets, and planetary defenses.


“ Yes. But no one else knows that,” Matthis replied, returning a salute from a passing yeoman.


Ridders shook his head. “ How can we be sure?”


“ It would have been blasted over the bloody HoloNet, you twit!” replied Colonel Sharr, commander of the 1st Assault Brigade, sum of all stormtroopers in the Bastion sector; he had never had any love – or tolerance – of politicians.


The hall had finally come to an end and the mass funneled itself in a conference chamber near the entrance way. Seats were assumed amid bickering and low-pitched rumblings. The naval officers remained standing, the Captain by the door and his superior holding the crest of the head chair.


“ This ignorance of the truth can be used to our advantage. Without Sokolov, we appear to be a prime target for conquest, not least from the Republic. Their scouts continue to get closer than any of us would like.”


A series of nods and positive grumblings showed the Commodore he finally had control over the conversation.


“ The Admiral was just a man, but he was the most senior officer in this command. He took with him our only Destroyer, leaving us with…”


Captain Vivair rambled off the totals. “ About a dozen capitals, perhaps twenty corvettes and gunships, and no more than a hundred customs and patrol cruisers. Fighters, perhaps four squadrons not ground-side.”


“ By the Gods!” stammered Army Captain Yebbin, unofficial overlord of slave labour imported from the nearby Unknowns.


“ Yes. As you can see, safe under the planetary shield, what we possess in the way of deep space assets are nill. A paltry force, by even Rebel standards could cause us much concern.”


“ I had no idea things were that bad,” Ridders exclaimed.


Commodore Matthis placed a calming hand on Colonel Sharr’s shoulder who was preparing a rather rude and no doubt profane reply. “ In order to set things straight, and prevent our conquest, we shall have to make things better than they appear. Upon receiving confirmation of the Admiral’s demise, I assumed command over all military forces. I shall not be giving myself any grandiose warlordish title, but I shall heretofore be filling the Admiral’s shoes. Any objections?”


Those present had none, as could be expected. All of the officers saw it as the natural course of things for Sokolov’s chief of staff to take his place; the politicians and officials saw renewed opportunity for advancement under a new leader. They would need to acquiesce before they could plan, and so acquiesce they did.


“ Good. Now, in order for us to secure our position here before some other probe wonders across that debris, we shall have to gamble what we have in hopes of a big return. With barely a dozen habitable worlds in as many systems, it is our only viable option.”


“ How are we going to make the galaxy, for those who even care, believe he is still alive? Speeches were never his style, so would be seen as fake. His tactics were standard, and we have no interdictors left. I don’t see how this can work!”


Commodore Matthis steepled his fingers as he took the now deceased Admiral’s seat. “ You will…”

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Command and Control Complex
Office of Grand Admiral Telan Desaria

Xucphra City, Thyferra


Maisson Latt, Director of Imperial Intelligence, entered the office of the Supreme Commander with the air of pompous confidence every being to hold his office possessed. Ysanne Isard many decades before had proven to be the archetype of Intelligence. Without regard for allegiance, time frame, or state of the Empire, all of those who followed her idealized her and replicated to a T her aura.


Such arrogance and mystique seemed to wither as the doors shut behind the black-clad Director, all light coming from in from the floor-ceiling windows behind the Grand Admiral. Dusk was hours away but clouds covered the sun and dimmed its light. Speeders passed in the distance, weaving between high rises and commercial towers – it was quite a metropolitan view.


Latt noticed two civilians literally waiting in the wings: standing to his right was Minister Sashan Vorru and to his left the Imperial Chancellor Mikell de Nostradaum. He acknowledged both with only a curt glance, focusing his gaze on the uncharacteristic of his superior: head titled towards the polished desktop, fists balled, and from what Latt could see of Desaria’s face, eyes closed.


The Director would have enjoyed the upper hand to place himself confidently in a seat of power or stand at ease in some dominating position in the room, but was not granted the chance. Another atypical occurrence then came to pass: Desaria did not speak first. The Chancellor took such responsibility.


“ The answers have already been lain out. Now comes the time for you to account for your deeds.”


Vorru took the helm at that point. “ Intelligence conducted a less-than-legal transaction using funds outside of its own allotment pool. That is rather sizeable, so I wondered why. I called in a few favors among Sluis Van’s political leaders and received a copy of patrol logs. The only ship to depart a private repair bay was a heavily modified Invinicble-class Cruiser that was unnamed and responded to no hails. When a ship approached, she disappeared and the matter was covered up.”


Latt smirked at Vorru and was debating whether to deny it or simply deride his spying abilities. His cruiser had not disappeared, it had made a micro jump into hyperspace before engaging its cloak.


“ And lest I forget, that private repair dock was immolated mysteriously one week later.”


Nostradaum continued. “ The Inquisitoriate was kind enough to step in when I brought this matter to them and allowed me useage of their assets on Coruscant. One of them was a member of the Republic’s Central Planning Committee who disappeared into InviSec.”


Latt smiled again, rubbing his hands together at the small of his back. He was truly enjoying being interrogated! Their amateurish demeanor lacking in unnerving calmness was filled with anger and loathing. Displays of emotion were known to only aide the interrogated person rather than break down their defenses.


“ The Committee was planning to send more probes towards the Syndicate and Remnant. Did you know that? No matter. When this disappeared officer was pronounced dead, all plans of probing towards the Rim were abandoned.”


Until this time Grand Admiral Desaria had been a shell of man, struggling to retain his emotions. The epaulettes of his rank and accompanying gold braided cords that wrapped around his right shoulder that slumped and wrinkled with their bearer’s manner filled out once more. Baron Desaria’s muscle’s tightened and his fists unclenched. His teeth were bared and the lithe yet not bulging features of his strong face appeared to be straining. He was a shell no more.


Both politicians fell silent.


“ How dare you!” the Admiral screamed, turning several heads among the officers and functionaries assembled nearby. “ Piecing this together was not that hard! You willfully tossed aside doctrine I placed to strengthen and maintain the Empire! You violated my firm order to every person to salute our Banner never to raise a hand against a fellow Imperial. And yet, despite my more than clear orders you disobeyed me. No, it was not something as simple as placing spies or converting agents, that would been acceptable. You had killed a member of the Admiralty and a friend of mine!!!”


One of the Admiral’s balled fists rose up and came crashing down on the desk with an awful force. “ You are scum, Latt! I expect underhandedness from Intelligence, but never open warfare against Imperials.”


Latt had remained calm in response to the opening rounds of the Admiral’s tirade but could take no more. “ You call me scum? Your orders to me were to maintain Imperial security. You told me to eliminate all threats to our sovereignty and that’s just what I did!”


“ By murdering Admiral Sokolov?”


“ Be dispatching a traitor! The Rebels were going to sign a truce with him. Pelleaon was hanged for that!”


Desaria bristled with rage. “ He had the resources to continue to prosecute a successful offensive! That is why he was killed. Sokolov is not in such a position. A truce would have allowed him to survive!”


“ Survive? Inside of a year his space would be swarming with Republic warships and operatives! Signing that truce would have been the first nail in his coffin. Then the Remnant would have fallen prey to their attacks with no buffer available. When they fall, they need worry only about Balmorra and Sevon, both of whom are already well bottled up. Rather than turn split their assets to defend several fronts they would have been able to concentrate on us and destroy the Emprie! What I did prevented that.”


Desaria shook his head and let go a short chortle. “ You think so much a spy you have forgotten everything ever taught to you about decorum. They were other ways. I was hurt by this news more than you can ever fathom. But Sokolov would have apologized and made amends to me and the Empire! You acted as judge and executioner without my authority. Worst of all, this was never approved by me, or any of the High Command!”


With that all rage subsided. The Grand Admiral returned.


“ You went outside the chain of command. Even they answer to me.”


Latt inwardly grimaced as he knew to whom Desaria had intimated. The Inquisitoriate, known all too often as the Red Terror, had done away with many overzealous Intelligence operatives over the years making the two arms very combative.


“ Degrelle!” The Admiral’s voice rose ever so slightly to summon in the commander of all Inquisitoriate forces on Thyferra. The scarred and powerful man entered with hand on holster.


“ You are under arrest. To enforce the security of the Empire is laudable. To execute loyal officers without authorization or approval from above is not.”


Degrelle placed a hand on Latt’s shoulder and lead the Director away from the room and deep inside the bowels of High Command. Desaria sat and quietly sent away both civilians. When he was alone, he called an emergency meeting of the General Staff.

[Telan Desaria]

En route to Sierra Spaceport
Staff Car of Field Marshal Alexi von Laang

Xucphra City, Thyferra


“ That was interesting, no?” asked the wiry commander of the Imperial Fighter Corps.


The vehicle’s second passenger took an extended sip from a bottle of spring water he had appropriated from High Command’s well stocked wardroom. Though he continued to eat all in sight as if he had never before indulged in the art of dining, Marshal Prem looked slightly thinner than he had in the past as a result of a strenuous exercise regimen.


“Mmmm,” he replied, swallowing the purified substance in one gulp. The mouth on the Chief of the General Staff matched his paunch. Whatever will I do when he actually losses his weight? No more analogies!


At that thought, the Falleen pilot smiled widely prompting a question he quietly dismissed. “ Bastion is all the way across the galaxy. TIEs will have to be kept aboard on standby. My men are good, but they are not immune to muscle cramps. At full speed without any stops save course changes, that’s twelve days in hyperspace.”


The staff car was a newer model and built specifically for the temperate climate of Thyferra and was thusly a convertible. Cool though slightly humid winds blew from the south amplified ever more by the speed the repulsor car and its four escorts passed. Von Laang was not affected by the breeze, his ceremonial strand of hair tucked into the collar of his tunic. Prem, however, was constantly adjusting his graying locks.


“ We’ll have to make waypoint stops. Twelve days in hyperspace chews up even a Destroyer’s fuel reserves. We will have to replenish our stocks at least twice. We could put in at Corellia, that’s no problem. The yards there can give a quick look-over to any of our ships with problems. If the Grand Admiral can finagle something with Millard, we could stop at Balmorra as well. If not, Kuat or Hapes would do. After that we’re devoid of ports till we get to Syndicate Space.”

“ That’s a pretty nasty region of space. Well-armed independents and a Sith’s load of Republic worlds. Can a Destroyer store enough fuel for that kind of journey?” the Falleen asked.


Prem nodded. “ That’s not a problem. Thing is, the fuel storage cells are of two types: sublight and hyperspace. The main is for both, the secondary holds a catalyst that boosts hyperdrive power giving us maximum efficiency. Shuttles, gunboats, fighters: they only have standard.”


“ I follow you so far.”


The Staff officer continued. “ The catalyst is not meant to be used in great quantities, only to start up the engines. A prolonged jump means more and more is used with each injection to the engines. Four days continual usage and we’re out. Running on standard fuel would add on another five days.”


“ I’m lost,” von Laang admitted. The car passed quickly through a sentry post at the entrance to the sprawling civil and military complex. Guards on either side in the blue and black uniforms of the Civil Defense Force came to attention as the five-car convoy sped by.


“ Destroyers and some heavy cruisers like the Virulence-class use the catalyst because of larger engine demands. Running on regular fuel would give them a top speed half that of say a Carrack or Hammer.”


“ I see. So our regular ships have enough fuel, but the Destroyers will need refills.”


“ Correction – their catalyst supply will have to be filled. Their store of regular fuel gives them enough to get there with quite a bit left over. It will simply be almost a week and a half after the rest of the task force.”


“ That’s why you’re the Staff man.”


Prem grinned. “ I’m a Navy man by choice. Tell me you don’t know your fighters inside and out. Tell me.”


The Falleen acquiesced, throwing up his claw-like hands. The larger man started a cordial chuckle his friend shared. Beyond them loomed a KDY XG-9100 Orbital Shuttle that was taking on a healthy load of recalled crew from the Inquisitor.

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Staging Area Delta 15
Grand Raider Division

Edge of the Caridan System


On top of Admiral Laran’s desk shimmered a blue haze. With the type of precision only a computer could achieve, the haze composed itself into the form a tall, dashing, and sophisticated man who wore white throughout.


“ My Lord.” Though the woman seated behind a rather bland desk ranked second to none in the Empire save the man whose apparition appeared before her, she always greeted the Grand Admiral with respect and formality. She was one of the few to use such a lofty title for Desaria. He had chided her many times for elevating him to an aristocratic title he was never endowed with, but she refused to stop. In times when the Grand Admiral was in a foul mood, her formality made even he smile.


“ Serena,” the blue visage called. “ Are we in private?”


“ Present is my flag captain, Reniel Aleraat.”


Desaria nodded, acknowledging the man he could not see who was in fact seated below the Admiral’s desk-dais a meter away.


“ You have trained your unit well from the reports I have read. You are to be commended.”


The regal female bowed. “ You would have expected nothing less, Admiral.”


Light-years away, Grand Admiral Baron Desaria smirked. “ You are commended nonetheless. You have as well waited patiently for orders that are now not to be.”


“ We will not be advancing against Fondor?”


The Grand Admiral was standing in front of his nearly wall-length purple water aquarium: that, Laran could tell. Occasionally one of the Amorian eels contained therein would swim by and be caught in its digital rendering by the holo-recorder. The tamed beasts seemed to guard the Centaurian nobleman from their transparisteel enclosure: every time the doors to his office whooshed apart they converged on the tank’s far end and fluffed their spikes.


“ No. That operation has been cancelled as other concerns have arisen. For the assignment I am giving you I must ask you to transfer your flag to another vessel. The Vehemence and Indoctrinator are being transferred to the X Flottgruppe.”


“ Of course, my Lord. The Abolisher II Germania will prove a sufficient command ship.”


“ Good,” the Grand Admiral replied. The entire line of Abolisher II-class Heavy Cruisers were the only battleships in Imperial service not to need a catalyst with their hyperdrive matrix as they were just below the breaking point when heavier engines were needed. Like the original Abolisher-class ships, the IIs were seven hundred meters.


“ Our orders?”


“ I am sending you a detailed dossier. To sum things up, you will be going to Dubrillion.”


“ Dubrillion!? That’s on the other side of the galaxy!”


Laran shot Captain Aleraat a very chastising glare before smiling at her commander. “ We can be ready for departure in thirty hours.”


“ Very good. Get some rest, because I doubt any of us will get any once we arrive at out destinations.”


The holoimage disappeared into thin air leaving nothing between the commander of the Grand Raider Division and her flag captain. Though the title Division was something of a misnomer, the formation in question no more than a reinforced support squadron, the Admiral in charge looked every part the large-unit leader she had once been.


“ Never question the orders of your Supreme Commander. If you lack faith in his ability, then undo your tunic and get off this ship!”


Aleraat had never been as taken aback as he was then. He simply sat in silence as Laran departed her office and made preparations to dispatch the assigned ships to her superior officer.

[Telan Desaria]

Executor II-class Super Star Destroyer Intimidator
- Renamed Before Departure –

Sivrenni System
- Uninhabited Expanse Near Core-ward Imperial Border –


“ Do you approve of the name change, Captain?”


Captain Voltaire responded coldly and emotionlessly. For a Captain, he appeared reserved; for the captain of a Super Star Destroyer, he was timid; as the Flag Captain to the Supreme Commander, he appeared dead.


“ It is not mine to have an opinion, Admiral.”


Grand Admiral Desaria was not a typical commander, and thusly expected such a dry remark from his friend and subordinate. “ It most certainly is! This is my flagship, but I can move that at any time. She is still your ship. Her name is wholly your area of opinion.”


At that reassurance, Voltaire visibly loosened his grip on his speech and demeanor. “ In that case, sir, I think that the change will made Degrelle much happier now that he can use Inquisitor on his ship.”


Desaria again lightened up with a smile and chuckle as the pair turned a corridor deep within the bowels of the Imperial flagship. Passing them were junior officers and enlisted personnel of all kinds. Seeing anyone above the rank of Senior Lieutenant was a rarity in what was generally considered – although no where near in fact – the slums of the ship. Within the central axis of the ship for the first three kilometers of the bow was there area the lower ranks called home. Behind those accommodations were the Spartan quarters inhabited by the ship’s trooper compliment. Aft still began the sprawling engineering section.


“ He will be overjoyed, I don’t doubt. I can picture him dropping a handful of datacards and running towards the registrar’s office!”


Voltaire chuckled along with the Admiral. Leon Degrelle was one of the premier members of the Imperial Inquisitoriate and vain to every extent. Though he was as fanatically loyal as the men he commanded, the image he painstakingly preserved of himself as an eligible bachelor and strutting hero came second. Having his Aurora-class Star Destroyer named in his sardonic fashion would boost his confidence on many levels.


“ When was the last time you were down here, Captain?”


Voltaire almost cringed. “ About thirty years.”


“ Obviously less for me, but it’s as important to show the flag to your own as well as your enemy.”


Together Voltaire and Desaria formed, to the men of the Intimidator, the most powerful they knew. The former was the commander of their ship and the latter their Supreme Commander. Seeing both, in the flesh, brought many a lit cigarra crashing to the cold decking below their feet, dropped from the lips of men in awe.


Slowly the pair worked their way into the reviewing box for a shockball game being waged between the pilots of two rival fighter squadrons. Filling the stands around the court were shouting men and women oblivious that their commanders were looking down on them. Reports of the game were broadcast over the internal comm. system to those men who had placed bets but could not leave their station. When the ship’s captain bide both technicians to leave the room, the transmission fell silent.


“ Where are we going, sir?”


“ Did you know Vice Admiral Sokolov?”


Voltaire pursed his lips. “ I served on a ship attached to his command once, but that was over ten years ago.”


“ He was my friend. He is dead. The manner of his death or inconsequential from a military standpoint. All personal thoughts aside and speaking bluntly, his death is a blessing.”


The Captain could easily register some sort of sorrow or pain tugging at the Grand Admiral’s lips, but dared not press the issue.


“ The Syndicate now stands open to occupation and better we do it than the Republic. I’ve recalled a dozen Destroyers and some escorts; we’ll be leaving for Bastion as soon as they all arrive.”


“ You are anticipating trouble?”


Desaria nodded. “ I don’t like what I’ve been hearing from the Remnant. General Schell has been elusive to say the least, so I can’t confirm anything. Lebron’s been incommunicado for the last several weeks. Nothing is going in or out officially.”


“ This civil war business?”


“ Exactly. Subduing the belligerents in the Syndicate will not be a problem. But if the Remnant is breaking up, I would rather have a force there to step in before Grand Moff Sevon expands ort the Rebels get greedy.”


“ I’ll prepare us for a long jump then, sir.”


They departed the viewing box, the technicians lunging back in to resume coverage of the game. Officers of the 32nd Defender Squadron were ahead of the 1183rd Reconnaissance Squadron by five points.

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Supply Depot 104

Nkllon


Colonel Axion Trevallia sat bemused by the request he had just been presented with. Represented on the small flat-screened display atop the Colonel’s desk was a Captain asking to have the four Supertankers under his command filled with troxon. The request itself was not odd since the four military freighters were registered with the Department of Logistics and Supply as was the depot itself; the amount they wanted he had not been requisitioned since before the Fragmentation.


“ Sixty million tons?”


The Captain nodded patiently, a grin on his face barely concealed. “ That’s right. Filled to the brim.”


Every time he asked the officer for confirmation and received it in turn, Colonel Trevallia became speechless. During the Senex-Juvex campaigns, over a hundred million tons had been used albeit drawn from the supply depots at a fast rate of many small shipments. Given the relative size of Imperial Space, jumping from one end to another was three days in hyperspace and took a quarter of a Destroyer’s catalyst supply.


“ What can I say, Colonel?”


“ Tell me why. Even going from one end of the galaxy would only need half of that.”


The Captain smirked again. “ Not if you are deployed over a dozen Destroyers and have to constantly drop out of hyperspace to change course. The Core is a very tricky place, navigationally speaking.”


“ The Core?” It was more of a statement of disbelief than the question it was meant as.”


“ That’s right. High Command’s got something going on, I don’t know what. But I do know that there are eight big boy’s with the flagship and more are on the way.”


Colonel Trevallia finally allowed his disbelief to ebb and remembered what it had been like in the days when such a grouping was not uncommon. Perhaps it was a sign of things to come, the Empire finally getting back on its feet. That thought brought some pride back to the Colonel’s face as he bade the ships enter and directed the supply convoy to the fueling complex.

[Telan Desaria]

Executor-class Super Star Destroyer II Intimidator

Sivrenni System


Like a dragon in its lair, the ominous figure of the Imperial flagship sat deep within the Sivrenni System. Almost twenty worlds made a slow and lumbering orbit around a dead star, every single one a lifeless rock devoid of sentience for many millennia before history was recorded. No more than an hour away at medium sublight speed stood the invisible barrier that separated territory claimed by the Empire and its arch nemesis, the New Republic.


The centerpiece and pride of the Imperial Navy was not alone in the system’s darkness. Thirteen battleships waited in the wings, hiding close to moons and steering a cautious course amid fields of rock. Those ships were noticeably weak in comparison to the massive vessel pointed like a dagger at a light-devoid sun; in its absence they ruled the stars as Imperial Star Destroyers, the largest and most potent vessels that could be attained for the arsenal of any state.


Clad against formations of stone and debris, the interior lights of the dark-painted warships mirrored the starscape around them. These harbingers of destruction were not the only predators on the scene then, for at the outskirts of the system-proper waited twenty light men of war designated frigates, monitors, cruisers and such. These small cousins of the behemoths deep at the system’s center would prove vital in protecting the others from attack.


A call went out from the titan at the fleet’s center over the breadth of subspace signaling all into formation. Every vessel responded with the care and precision only seasoned crews could summon into being. Around the Intimidator formed a sphere of relatively smaller Destroyers. Mustering the speed their size demanded the smaller ships fanned out before, above, below, and behind the collection of battleships. When all maneuvers were complete a cone of Imperial warships was formed.


Formed of detachments from commands throughout the Empire was the X Flottgruppe, itself unquestioningly the largest assembly of military might under one banner since the Fragmentation. With only one spoken word from the Supreme Commander it disappeared from space, crossing the void into a parallel dimension capable of bridging the gap from one end of the cosmos to the other. It’s final destination was the populous world of Bastion.

[Telan Desaria]

This thread is now
- -
COMPLETE

However, the continuation will be made shortly. Preparations have been made, the foundations laid: now the Crusade begins.

Look for The Next Installment Next Week