Isolated - Braxant Expansion (Complete)

[Telan Desaria]

Tamylian Shipyards - Thyferra
Observation Bay


“ What do you think?”


Field Marshal von Laang placed his thumb and forefinger on either side of well-defined jaw line and gently stroked his chin; the question was indeed cause for deep thought. The view taken in could be described as terrifying or magnificent, dependent upon who was gazing thereupon – no qualms be made were it referred to as awesome. Sitting outside of its wide construction berth was the diamond-shaped form of a new vessel, its aft-two flanks incanted evenly inward giving her six-sides total. The dorsal hull was smooth and grey like a newly polished stretch of decking, interrupted only by a rising superstructure along the spine. A small distance beyond amidships was a conning tower not unlike the one in which the Marshal now stood.


“ I am speechless. What is she, Telan?”


“ A Centurion-class Star Destroyer: the Relentless. She’s only the second in her class.”


“ Oh?” asked the blue-skinned humanoid.


“ Indeed. The first was tragically given to Rear Admiral Kracken before his episode. She’s been undergoing refits and will be deployed at the end of this week.”


Von Laang looked over at his friend, the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy. He was tall and handsome with a large measure of pride making him glow in the observation cabin. Grand Admiral Desaria was positively beaming.


“ You’ll certainly get looks with this.”


Desaria smiled widely, ignoring the banter of bureaucrats and Staff functionaries in the background. “ She was designed a while ago but dismissed when the creator went mad. She’s a new class of battleship carrying her own wing of fighters and six support ships. There’s not a ship in the Republic Fleet that can match her gun for gun.”


“ Certainly is a prize. What are you planning to do with her? And this other one, for that matter.”


“ They’ll both be making a shakedown cruiser around the border to make sure all of the bugs have been worked out. Then it depends on how the Bestine operation goes. If the Rebels act rashly, then I will send them to front. If things clam down, they’ll replace some warships in the Central Sector Fleet so I can send reinforcements to Braxant.”


“ Has Moff Lebron been behaving himself?”


Desaria shot his friend a reproving glance he quickly noticed. Despite their personal feelings on the Moff’s sanity, he was an excellent administrator and not to be derided – in public. “ Moving on – the border there has been quiet and I want to be prepared if things flare up without warning.”


“ A step ahead as usual, Tel.” Von Laang raised his glass and the two shared a toast, basking in the glory such an addition to the Fleet brought.

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial High Command – Thyferra


“ Be seated.”


Marshal Prem took to the podium as an assemblage of various ranking officers reversed their rise. They presented a complete cross-section of the Empire’s High Command, men wearing uniforms from the Fleet, Army, Fighter Corps, and so many others. Intelligence officers mingled and mixed with their more professional military colleagues – inter service rivalries were set aside in times of impending crisis.


“ Plans have been proposed and accepted for an immediate fortification of the border between us and the Federacy. We have been engaged in an expansive mine-laying programme for the last two years since we acquired Eriadu, but the work has been going slowly. When resources were diverted to the fortification of Porall and the Central Sector, work slowed still.”


In the expansive briefing chamber, the lights dimmed. Officers from Eriadu adjusted their stereotypical monocles to see better in the darkness. Behind Prem, a two-dimensional display of Imperial Space came to life ten meters tall and twice that wide. Highlighted in a bright blue was the border closest to the Federacy.


“ The original plans call for a massive six-tier minefield layed to a depth of almost one light-year. Nearly a sector’s width on the y-axis and along the entire border from Eriadu to Ison. The plan would have utilized seventeen-point-nine billion mines.”


Gasps were heard coming from the prestigious audience, for such a project had never been attempted.


“ To date, just under one-half-billion have been lain. As it exists currently, given the rather massive lethargy with which we have proceeded, the field is grossly incomplete. There are gaps everywhere. We have only one positive note – given the type of mines used, we believe that the Feds, while they know of the field, they do not know what is active and where.”


The map projection centered itself on the border region alone.


“ With Poral and Eriadu defended as required, all mine laying assets have been freed and our efforts have intensified commendably. However, we cannot hope to finish what we started.


“ To doubt that war is imminent would be foolish and if we were that, we would not be here. Thusly, we will continue our preparations of the field but we can no longer rely upon it as the main line of defense.


“ To the heart of our subject, gentleman….”

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial High Command
Xucphra City, Thyferra


Colonel Mitchell Reichenau stretched, generally bored of staff meetings, He had been trained by the best the Empire had to offer, fortunate enough to be at the Academy when Marshal Prem took a year to teach. That was not, however, enough to stem his boredom. He was thus cursed by genetics – while he longed to be a front-line soldier, living a life of excitement and glory, his talents lay in administration and organization. That, and he had born with a problem even the most sophisticated prosthetics could not curtail.


“ Mitch!”


Reichenau turned from his relaxed position in the empty amphitheater to see his good friend arriving with a small group of fellow General Staff officers. Xenntel Trader and Reichenau had taken to one another at their first meeting, becoming fast friends of the inseparable kind. He swung his legs down from the empty chair-back on which they had been resting and moved to stand.


There was an unmistakable clanking of metal that accompanied the sound of jackboots on polished steel. The Colonel gritted his teeth at the ever-present reminder of his mechanical left leg. He hated himself for having the DNA in his cells he did and cursed the Fates at every turn.


The episode of bottled anger passed with the flashing of the theatre’s lights; Reichenau ambled down the steps next to the recessed entrance until he was standing equal with his sandy-haired compatriot. Next to one another, they appeared as polar opposites; Reichenau the dark-haired, stern faced Balmorran, Trader the young and vibrant Thyferran. They were, however, very vigorous and insatiable joksters.


“ Take your seats, gentlemen.”


General Desstrano entered the room, shooting the two troublemakers a preemptively reproving look. As their commanding officer, he had been present for a good deal of their practical humor and its recipient on more than a few occasions. The pair shared a devilish gaze before taking their seats.


The theatre had the first three rows filled with officers from a wide-cross section of Staff Departments, all of them seated around a holographic plot table much larger than the five-by-three meter one used in command ship operations centres. Desstrano folded his hands before his chest as he waited for the officers to come to order. The older and career officers quieted immediately, but the younger ones who found themselves in uniform because of talents instead of future aspirations took a time longer.


The room came to order when a white-clad officer entered through the recessed entrance.


“ That’s – “


“ Shhh!” Trader chided, elbowing his friend in the ribs. Grand Admiral Desaria had entered the room.

[Telan Desaria]

“ Simply put, we have neglected the Braxant Sector. Moff Lebron has had to endure countless hardships due to pirate attacks and overall disorganization. That stops now. Here is where we shall turn that edict into a reality.”


The Grand Admiral nodded to General Desstrano who activated the holoprojector. Imperial holdings from the other side of the galaxy were illuminated in a highly detailed representation that must have been painstakingly created. Clouds of stellar gas, nebulae, hyperlanes, planets, even small moons were all shown in great intricacy.


“ Currently we hold Bastion and Yaga Minor. A route has been forged between them but this does not stop other from taking advantage. We are disunited territorially there, and we are going to change that.”


Several systems found themselves highlighted and the object of small red lance-like pointers.


“ Muunlist should be first. Your suggestions, please.”


And such was the demeanor of the General Staff of the Galactic Empire. No man wearing the crimson bloodstripe upon his trouser legs was afraid to ask for suggestions or admit he was wrong. Pride in the halls of High Command took a back seat to tactical and strategic concerns.


“ Sirs.”


Desstrano turned and acknowledged Lieutenant Commander Fegis Gramm, head of the Staff’s astrogation department. As the Grand Admiral was speaking, he had entered the necessary data into his pad and was thusly well-prepared.


“ Muunlist has a sizeable population: about six billion. Ten percent of the population lives in the expansive capital-city area, with the rest spread out across the planet’s surface. Though agrarian, the planet is highly sophisticated and possesses a formidable defense force.”


“ Strength?” asked Line Captain Ross, Fleet Logistics Office.

…

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial High Command
Xucphra City, Thyferra



Marshal Prem stabbed at his pasta-esque lunch, but brought none of it towards his mouth. After several minutes of fiddling with the meal, Grand Admiral Desaria noticed that his friend was not giving in to his typically voracious appetite.


“ Something amiss, Alexei?”


The slowly-thinning Chief of the General Staff smiled thinly. “ It’s just this Braxant matter.”


“ What about it?” asked the Admiral out of hand before appropriating a piece of Alorrian boar from his plate.


“ Out of every convoy that runs the Gauntlet, only seventy to eighty percent of our transports get through – on average. I don’t know about you, but that seems like on hell of a strain on the Logistics Department. We’ve been mass producing freighters and transports for five years and we still barely break even.”


“ We’ve instituted convoys. There are no leaks along the chain of command. It is a simple matter, my friend. We are sending ships across the breadth of the galaxy through some of the most hostile territory imaginable. Such losses are slim compared to what they could be.”


Prem sighed, acceding the point to his realistic peer. Given the terrain the convoys did have to traverse, the amount of successful sorties did exceed expectations. That, however, did not assuage the guilt he felt about sending hundreds of freightor crews to their deaths.


Admiral Desaria was quick to move the conversation’s direction for he saw the target his eyes had set themselves upon. The Baron could spot a questioning look nowhere better than on the face of a friend and so sought to immediately remove it. Doubt was horrid enough; doubt in the mind of the Chief of the Imperial General Staff would be deadly for a great many men.


“ My meeting this morning proved very productive. Four of the new Cuirassier-class Heavy Cruisers and one Seydlitz-class will be the first ships sent. They will also guard a convoy transporting the 9th Army to Yaga Minor.”


The Marshal’s eyes lit up, all trace of doubt gone. The mere mention of numbers and unit designations set his mind into motion. “ To stage for Muunlist, eh?”


Desaria smiled. “ Yes. I’ve not decided on a commander for the operation yet. Since our withdrawal from Sluis, Admiral Messhir is an ideal choice to keep him occupied. Either way, it will be a new style of combat altogether.”


Prem removed a healthy portion of his meal from his own plate. “ How so?”


“ Well, due to the casualty rate, only the barest of necessities is getting through. Life on Bastion is far different from life on Thyferra. Militarily speaking, ships of a renowned caliber will be rare at best. Most ships called into the line would not be suitable for combat here: light cruisers, frigates, pickets, assault ships! There a force of six frigates based around a heavy cruiser will be considered an armada. Our enemies there consist entirely of pirates, vagabonds, independents – it will be tough going indeed, but small on scale compared with what we are doing over here.”


“ Sounds like quite the adventure.”


The Grand Admiral took a sip of brandy. “ Indeed…”

[Telan Desaria]

Bastion System
Braxant Sector


Pol Raithesome could not but help sigh. His task was not an easy one, nor one to be taken lightly. The situation, though, given the Imperials’ predilection for gallows humor, almost seemed comical. The Kaminski pirates had attacked Base 716 four times in half as many weeks. Not one of their assaults had succeeded; in fact they had limped away with horrendous casualties. Yet they came again, regrouped and ready for another bashing against the rocks.


Amazing what courage does. More amazing is what one Carrack-Cruiser, three pickets, and eight gunboats will do!


The baritone voice of Commander Maerris, former opera star of Eriadu-fame, boomed over the fleet-combat frequency. “ Dual 1 and 2, long arc to port and hit them with torps. Return along entry-course.”


Raithsome ticked away at his console, moving away with his wingman from Seridus, the Bastion System’s farthest planetoid. Moving forward and to the far right of the small formation were two Fierce-class pickets, each little more than a 100-meter spar with small projections amidships and an oddly-large aft engine housing. Maerris’ tactics were obvious to the now-veteran gunboat pilot – the pickets would pummel the pirates while the gunboats provided them some antagonizing. When the pirates gave chase while simultaneous escaping the pickets’ salvoes, the remaining gunboats in concert with the Carrack would loose a withering cannonade.


He and his attached vessel completed their outward yaw and turned for the end-run against the pirates. His gunners were primed and ready – given their nods of confidence, he pushed the accelerator closer and closer towards the console. Thrusters swallowed whole litres of fuel as they propelled the steel creatures towards Destiny. Red and orange lanced out from the pirate’s amalgamation of refitted freighters, scratch-built fighters, and antique relics – the gunboats dove in with a ferocious determination. As the range counters ticked towards zero, Raithsome let loose a howl like a man possessed. Missiles shot forth from the belly of his charge, streaming as fast as they could on tongues of blue flame. Their brief careers ended in balls of fire, shields being shorted and collapsed in bare seconds.


“ Yee-haa!”


Raithsome’s gunboat ducked under the rectangular body of an old Action Transport and rolled on its axis as it rocketed away from danger. Eight projectiles had been loosed, five of which found homes against the hulls of enemy craft. Both Dual 1 and its wing returned at break-neck speed to their protective comrades nearly intact – save for a few lucky shots against reinforced high-grade shielding, they were unscathed.


Indeed, the pirates had taken the bait. Tendrils of neon energy had driven the pirates from the pickets’ grasp and into the waiting arms of the three-hundred fifty meter titan. Five turbolaser cannon and four-times as many laser batteries tore into the pirates with a vengeance. One after another of the pirate’s number was counted off the Commander’s operational display.


In time, they withdrew leaving just over a thousand of their peers floating in space. The Imperials had suffered few casualties and light damage at best.


Raithsome sighed anew. Such was life in Braxant…

[Telan Desaria]

Bastion


Major-General Kaine tugged at the sleeves of his tunic, hoping to cling to normalcy.


Luck saved him when he ducked his head to gaze at the reflection in his polished jackboots just as the shuttle juked about like an eloorian eel. From side to side the craft rocked, tossed about without relent.


With a wry grin, the co-pilot of the shuttle looked back around the edge of his flight couch. " Sorry bout' that, boss."


" Only the tenth time."


The pilot took the remark at face value and laughed, though the General had meant it as a warning and expression of his extreme displeasure. Before being posted to the Braxant Sector, Kaine heard the scuttlebut about shortages of near every amenity though he had never placed any thought to them. With his hand gripping the hull's hand-hold, he would never have thought a courier-shuttle's stabilizer an amenity.


Chancing a glance from the circular viewport, Kaine saw the last town along Bastion's northern-freeway fade from sight. The mountains were just ahead, obscuring his final destination and command - Raithor Base.


" Up we go!" cheered the pilot, obviously enjoying the amusement-park ride atmosphere such shortages presented. Kaine, on the other hand, shrunk into his uniform.


Not again...

[Telan Desaria]

Major-General Kaine sighed then shuddered as he briskly walked away from the landed shuttle. Around him sprawled Raithor Base, before him stood a small group of officers. He glanced behind one more time, thankfully rid of the Lurrur-class Courier.


A lone woman broke from the congregation of grey, khaki, and green uniformed officers, approaching the Major-General with Caridan discipline in her step. At a strain of his eyes, Kaine saw her lips moving thought was aloof as to her words. Around him whirred hundreds of atmospheric transports gobling up man and amchine alike. The din of repulsor engines overrode any octave of vocalization he might have detected.


He moved closer to her and received a crisp salute. The Caridan Clasp's trio of gold-set emeralds shimmered in the limelight, confirming the General's guess at her training centre. " General Kaine, welcome to Raithor. I am Colonel de Grasse, your new Chief of Staff."


Kaine dismissed the memory of Walther Than, his late occupant of said post. Time for reminiscence was not upon them. " Thank you, Colonel. All preparations are under way?"


" They are, sir. We leave in two hours. We will stage outside of the target system until Fleet has confirmed pacification. All four landing areas have been reconnoitered as per Intelligence."


" And what of this news of a pirate presence?"


" True, I am afraid. What we have seen as twenty ships are, for want of a better phrase, holding Muunlist hostage."


" I doubt we'll have to attack. They'll welcome us as saviours."


The Colonel called the other officers into line as they approached a small motorcade of hover-vehicles. " That was the Captain's thought. He is waiting in the flight-tower to speak with you."


" Let's get going..."

[Telan Desaria]

Deep Space, Near Brita-Kajarro


Anatoly Travess sighed a deep and heavy sigh. All he had ever worked for had crumpled in around him. As an Imperial officer he had done his job and then been punished for it. The very dedicated and fanatical devotion to Imperial discipline the lauded Grand Admiral Desaria espoused had been the reason for his dismissal from the Emperor’s service.


The irony of it all is sickening.


Travess allowed himself a slight laugh. After being drummed from the Fleet, the tall fighter commander set himself a daunting task – bring the Grand Admiral to his knees. The task was as difficult and daunting now as it had been during birth. Some progress had been made, though. At Hilari, he had managed to turn loyal citizens into rebels and bloody the Empire’s nose before that engagement’s end. Making his way across the galaxy upon learning of his adversary’s next target, he forced himself into a position of authority on Yaga Minor. When the Admiral came calling with an armada in tow, Travess had been there, fighting the advance at every turn. Many a gravesite could be worthily dedicated to him.


In the end, Yaga Minor fell and Travess had to flee once more. He did not return to the Empire proper for the Braxant Sector Desaria created was a much more tempting target and one not nearly as impregnable as Thyferra-region space. There, it was decided, he would prove to be the greatest thorn in the Admiral’s side since his Empire had been born.


It is not the lofty aim to which I had once aspired, but something is better than nothing.


The General thought back to the Empire. He knew with no small measure of pride that all knew his name. That the title ‘Travess’ was being spoken in palace and promenade alike with no small amount of contempt was of little concern to him – it was being spoken! In all the years of toil and tear, he was the greatest single threat posed to Desaria’s quiet realm, or at least he so fancied himself.


Settling into bed, Travess closed his eyes. Tomorrow, the fun would begin. His work was half complete, but the more problematic half had yet to be tasked…

[Telan Desaria]

Braxant Sector – Bastion
Outside Bastion City


Joachim Maerris tugged at the sleeves of his tunic. There was no change to the fit – the olive-drab fabric was as comfortable as it had been the week and day before. One difference pervaded physical comfort though: the four red over four blue rank pips of a Captain’s insignia sat proudly on his left breast. Thinking back, he could remember nothing that had earned him a promotion to the rank more sought after than any level of the Admiralty. He had performed his duties when ordered, innovated when required, and acted when needed.


He was not complaining, of course.


There proved little time for such mental wanderings when Major-General Kaine entered the Flight Tower observation deck with an adjutant in tow.


“ General.”


“ Captain.”


Both men gave each other a once-over glance, neither having hence gazed at one another. Despite their relative disparity in rank and grade, there was a long cherished tradition between the Fleet and Army giving the former an unspoken seniority. Since the rise of space travel it had been the naval officers who took charge of millions’ destinies for it was they and their lot that transported the mighty armies to the fields on which they would garner glory of their own. On few occasions, also naturally unspoken, members of one branch were given lordship over the other. So it went.


The Major-General took a seat facing the windows, giving him a spectacular of the base below. His aide, a Colonel, remained standing by the door. Now-Captain Maerris assumed his new role as best he could, taking the seat next to his opposite number.


“ General, your troops are ready for action?”


“ As ready as ever.” Kaine cut to the chase. “ Do you think w shall see action at Muunlist?”


“ The way Intelligence has set things up, I don’t doubt it. There is some sort of ‘merger’ taking place in a few pirate circles. For now, they’ve made Muunlist their base and have been squeezing it for every deci-cred it’s worth. The reports give them a sizeable presence in the capital city and two holdings elsewhere to ensure passivity. These will need to be neutralized immediately.”


“ How immediately?” Kaine asked, dreading the thought of landing an assault force under fire.


“ Immediately. If we help liberate the Muunlisti, they’ll rise up with us. But this has to happen as soon as we arrive for if we wait, they will begin slaughtering the civilians – our wait will be seen as a tacit acceptance thereof.”


“ We would never - !” Kaine exclaimed, shocked at the very intimation.


“ I know,” Maerris replied, knowing the same and agreeing wholeheartedly. “ But that is the way of things, and especially the way of a people’s mind.”


Kaine sighed. “ So what is the plan then?”


Maerris stood. “ My task force will clear the way and land you. After that, you’re on your own until the enemy in orbit are finished.”

[Telan Desaria]

Above Muunlist


“ Boss!”


The exclamation hit Anatoly Travess with the ferocity of a speeding tram, nullifying every gain sleep had made in its quest to fully ensnare him. The lower half of the man’s body flung itself from the lower-bunk where he lay while the head shot up – right into a well-placed bulkhead. As he shook the unwanted meeting between skull and steel off a string of epithets flowed forth as vile in nature as the pirates with which he was sharing company.


“ What?” Travess spat into the wall-mounted comm receiver. He had left explicit instructions that he was to be undisturbed meaning either something major was amiss or the excited pirate was very, very stupid.


Doubtless both.


“ We’ve got incoming! Seven ships dropped from hyperspace!”


Travess’ teeth gnashed into one another. “ Configuration?” he demanded.


“ Three ships of unknown type, one Imperial Escort Carrier, three Alias-class Pickets.”


The obscenities interrupted so timely by the comm.-system’s reply renewed their befoulment of the air as Anatoly Travess made his way to the bridge of his current berth. When he arrived, he was not at all fazed by the disorder present on the command deck. He could not impugn the veterancy of the men – and women and aliens – about him for they had all sailed for many years under many a captain and many a flag. He could however severely chastise their lack of discipline.


But this is not a military ship. It is, however, a vessel unending conflict. I had expected more.


“ General,” called the reigning captain of the heavily modified corvette. “ There’s an Imperial task force just arrived.”


“ So I’ve been told,” Travess quipped, moving himself through the veritable sea of crewers. Either bravely or arrogantly he seated himself in the captain’s chair – it gave the occupant a magnificent view of everything happening off the bow including laterally as well as dorsal and ventral panoramas.


“ We’ve not the strength here to oppose them!” remarked the captain’s executive officer, a blue-skinned Falleen. Fortunately for the former Imperial’s temper, he was quiet enough not to be heard by any of the underlings.


“ Obviously not. Peljorradaan and Gundark go to flank speed – give them something to keep their guns off of us.”


“ We’re running?” asked the pirate captain, oddly.


Travess shook his head. He hoped with all hope with the pirates he had yet to encounter would be much smarter, and thanked the Fates that the others he already had were. “ Of course, you twit! I am also buying us some time to move this rabble to a safer location. Unless, of course, you wish to remain here?”


The Captain shrunk away, leaving Travess to his thoughts.

[Telan Desaria]

Muunlist


“ Report!” demanded Captain Maerris as he spied a flurry of action in reds, blues, and greens on the nearest tactical monitor.


“ Sir,” replied the ship’s battle-coordinator,” two ships are approaching, Vector two-niner-five. Two gunships: one’s an old Balmorran model, the other’s too heavily modified to typify. The rest are running to the nearest jump point.”


Captain Maerris exercised his shoulders, the muscles stretched and flexing underneath tanned flesh. He was almost beside himself as he entered the largest action he had lead to date. Were he not the disciplined officer he was, he might have been too proud to concentrate.


“ Deploy pickets forward to intercept. Send all targeting data to Major Raithsome and increase readiness rating.”


Three Alias-class Pickets let a flare blossom behind them as all six subspace thrusters ignited at once. Like the frigates and light cruisers of larger formations, the pickets combined speed and firepower: though hardpressed if set upon themselves, their first two attributes proved armor enough. The trio of hundred-meter ships began a broad loop along the right flank of the battle plane to intercept their target.


Maerris picked up a commlink. “ Major Raithsome…”

[Telan Desaria]

Raithsome relayed his orders to the four missile-boat flights of the 291st Imperial Assault Squadron. A promotion recently laid at his feet, he spoke confidently into the commlink built as a part of the pilot-helmet.


“ Wilely! Throttle back and stay in formation.”


There was a slight giggle in reply from the missile-boat at the extreme right of the squadron. Several other pilots, older and veteran members of the squadron, laughed uproariously despite the imminent combat. Their youngest member – dubbed Son affectionately – had a penchant for being a tad too eager.


Raithsome could not help but be proud of the men he now commanded. That they were able to display some jocularity on the eve of battle belied a confidence only veterans could espouse.


“ Range – one thousand!”


The Major squinted for a second. “ Loose!”

[Telan Desaria]

Anatoly Travess watched in amazement as the scene played out before him. Eight Epsilon-7 Missile Boats closed to near point blank range with the Gundark, released a payload of small Etti bombs, and broke in a classic Imperial starburst pattern. Gracefully the ships completed their arcs and reformed a three dimensional diamond under fire. The movement stirred a feeling of pride in his stomach for he had drilled his men so long a time before to such a level of precision.


His awe went unabated when the Gundark took what was obviously the bait. Turning to starboard she increased speed and spat stream after stream of laser fire at her tormentors. The Peljorradaan on the other hand followed the General’s orders and continued to close with the lead Imperial cruiser – a long, cylindrical craft mounting two impressive dorsal turrets and a command tower.


“ Begin jumping immediately,” Travess ordered those about him phasing only briefly into the milleau that surrounded him. Light soon after flashed across the viewpanes as one ship after another went to hyperspace.


The cylindrical warship rotated one of its massive turrets towards the approaching pirate vessel and depressed a single gun protruding therefrom. A bolt of flaring neon energy shot out causing the cannon to recoil. The bolt was larger than any turbolaser blast the General had ever seen and guessed it had to be more powerful. His suspicion proved accurate when it pierced the Peljorradaan and continued on only partially diminished. Where the refitted gunship had approached only a fireball remained.


The Gundark fared no better, having been set upon by three pickets at the end of its fruitless chase. She was putting up a magnificent struggle but could not match the enemy. Her shields flared and fizziled then disappeared. Fire laced the hull.


“ Captain, take us out of here. They’ve won the day. Now, however, we know their hand and they will not win the next.”

[Telan Desaria]

Line Captain Maerris looked about his bridge. He was very pleased indeed. The ship under his feet vibrated with the pulsing of the drive engines, a sure sign of her recent descent down the shipway at Corellia. She was not only new in production but new in design - as of that day, high above Muunlist, the first Seydlitz-class Heavy Cruiser to see action.


" Commander Alann, please send your report to Command as soon as it is finished. I'm sure the Grand Admiral is itching to know how well his STL's held up."


" Aye sir," replied the ship's IDMR adjutant who, thoughout the action, ahd been busily scribbling notes into his pads.


Maerris placed his hands at the small of his back.


" General Kaine is free to start his landing..."

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial High Command
Xucphra City, Thyferra


Colonel Reichenau opened the door ahead of him and left behind the bustling world of High Command. Outside where the sprawling complex ceased its rise into the sky he was free of stress, free of burden, free of command. Night having fallen, stars could be seen faintly above the light population of an ever-growing Xucphra City. Through the commercial high rises and residential towers the Ionian Sea could be gazed upon as it broke on the pristine beaches separating a busied land from a calm and free sea.


The night air was just perceptibly cooler than normal, a slight breeze moving in from the blue expanse beyond. Reichenau shoved his hands in the pockets of his breeches, one moving out to bring a cigarra to his lips. He then lit it and enjoyed the aroma produced. It was not a fine hand-rolled model one might enjoy from Ryloth or Corellia – he was after all a Colonel and could not afford that.


Reichenau glanced skyward just in time to glimpse a family of terrgles fluttering above High Command. As he watched them fly, free of complication or care, he began to wonder just what life would be like…


“ Those are no good for you, Colonel.”


He could not recognize the voice and so, cigarra in hand, he turned to face the attacker of his sophisticate past time. Standing outside the stair-door in jackboots and white uniform was the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy. Had his hand moved any faster to snap the instrument from his mouth and missed, his jaws might have been flying the distance to the parade ground beyond.


Grand Admiral Desaria took slow and deliberate steps toward the stunned officer, stopping barely a meter from him.


“ Colonel, just what do you think you are doing?”


Reichenau had not expected to see the Empire’s highest ranked member of the Admiralty that eve and was thusly at a loss for words. He did manage to choke something out eventually. “ Sir, you are renowned for smoking cigarrae.”


The Grand Admiral tilted his head as he considered the statement. Mock realization spread across his features. “ That’s right – I do! Well then!” Desaria reached into his double breasted tunic and removed a silver-laid case worth more than a Colonel’s yearly salary. Opening it he allowed the scent of hand-rolled Eriadan to be pushed by the wind into his nostrils. Satisfied, he removed one, lit it with an igniter he had likewise produced – he then offered one to the Colonel.


Desaria chuckled to himself as Reichenau’s cigarra went flying over the banister of the building’s roof. “ So Colonel, what brings you out here this evening?”


“ Permission to speak freely Admiral?”


The Admiral nodded as he puffed.


“ Things seem to be deteriorating in High Command. I’ve noticed that in the past month that orders from above have grown more and more ambiguous. Not only in my section, either – we have officers doing things and assuming duties they would not see for a-dozen promotions!” As an afterthought, he threw in a ‘sir’ for good measure.


Grand Admiral Desaria took a long puff on his cigarra and let it out slowly. The smoke was immediately caught upon a breeze of wind that carried it towards the Minaari Mountains. “ Colonel, everything is proceeding to plan. Have you ever heard of a great Corellian general by the name of Poleanna?”


Reichenau had not.


“ He said during on his more trying campaigns that every corporal carries a Marshal’s baton in his knapsack. I believe as he did, as many commanders do, that those below need only be nurtured and the chance to grow to become excellent leaders themselves. Commanders exist not to dictate, but to guide. From the moment a man becomes a General or an Admiral, he begins training his subordinates to succeed him. Every action he takes determines whether those over whom he has lorded will turn out great or failed.


“ No, Colonel. Everything in High Command is going exactly as I have ordered it to. The Admirals and the Generals that command the Empire shall continue to do so, but their Staffs will receive more and more responsibility in command. The General Staff will be what it once was – what it is becoming again. Enjoy your Colonelcy while you have it – the road only gets more lonely from here. Good night.”


Grand Admiral Desaria gave his cigarra a parting puff and disappeared into the darkness and then into the bowels of High Command. Reichenau was left holding a stiff salute as he chewed on the words of the man he respected – the man he now understood.

[Telan Desaria]

Muunlist


Line Captain Maerris listened intently as Lieutenant Arlist made his report. The younger - barely twenty year-old - officer hd graduated from the Academy campus on Thyferra and had spent the two years since perfecting tactics used by formation pickets. It was only natural that he had been hand-chosen by the Captain to command his reconnaissance detachment.


"..the entire system has been swept. I've dropped probe droids at random intervals around the periphery and launched several more into deep space. So far we haven't picked up any activity other than civilian traffic. That is being routed through Grid 8J-Delta. Three of my ships are there conducting searches."


Maerris smiled.


" Units of the 291st have been detached as well to aide in my patrols as per your orders."


" Well done, Lieutenant. Keep me informed."


The hologram faded, only to be replaced seconds later by the visage of the Premier of Muunlist.


" Kaptain," the Premier said, firing the first syllable with the forceful flare known to Muunlisti linguistics. " We are enternally grateful for your assistance. The pirates have crippled our energy production facilities and taken nearly all of our foodstuffs. You have liberated us and we will repay with anything we have left to us."


Maerris nodded solemnly. " I am glad to hear that. Let us discuss your admission to the Empire...."

[Telan Desaria]

In Orbit - Over Brita-Kajarro


Now-Colonel Entrete came to attention as if he were still the commander of stormtroops he once was in the Service of the Empire. Wearing a loose-fitting suit with a few medals strewn across for good measure, he was far from appearing as the right-hand of Anatoly Travess that he was.


Extending a weathered hand towards an unkempt desk, he laid before his better the report he had painstakingly pieced together on the quasi – action over Muunlist.


“ Prompt as usual Colonel. What have we here?”


“ My report, Excellency.”


Travess smiled at the title his second had spontaneously bestowed upon him. He himself was by no means a noble: he would have been happy with General. “ Thorough I trust. What have you found out?”


Entrente allowed himself a moment of prideful beaming. “ The primary ship engaged against us was a Seydlitz-class Heavy Cruiser. It is the Empire’s newest design in medium-scale capital warships. In addition to standard weaponry she mounts two twin-gun turrets – superturbolaser turrets.”


“ Superturbolasers?” spat Travess. Entrente had again his complete attention.


“ Indeed sir. They are nearly ten times as powerful as a standard heavy turbolaser. They are power hungry and do take a while to recharge between shots, but the end result is devastating. One blast could chew through the shields of a VicStar and still scorch off the upper-armor layer.”


Travess was wide-eyed.


“ Also against us was another new ship, the Cuirassier-class Heavy Cruiser. It’s considerably more conventional but eliminates hefty cargo space and stores for a large payload of chambered turbolaser rounds and warheads.”


Travess grew stern and calmly angry. “ So Desaria has trotted out his new toys. We shall have to even the odds…”

[Telan Desaria]

Carida


" Grand Admiral Desaria. May I present to you a formal copy of the Treaty of Algonier."


The Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy felt ill at ease in a regal setting for the second time in his life. That he was the quintessential aristocrat could never be question by any sane man: he was never a royal man, however. Standing in full dress regalia while the Imperial Minister of the Interior read for an old parchment scroll, he felt distinctly out of his league.


Perhaps this is Anar's idea of a joke. Or flattery. Either way, I am sending Marshal Prem henceforth.


The Grand Cathedral on Carida had been erected some seven centuries before the rise or even birth of the Empire in any form. When a cadre of disillusioned citizens from far off Xa Fel settled the growing planet, they brought with them a religion that honoured their gods at every turn. No such honour was more pronounced than the cathedral in which the Grand Admiral stood. The vaulted ceilings far above his head were no less than ten storeys, supported by elaborately carved pillars of an invaluable stone. Though the Xa Fel enclave on Carida had been eradicated during the Great Hyperspace War, every power since in its ownership had used it for one purpose or another.


I can appreciate the ceremony, I enjoy participating in it. But I am no King. A Baron should never the center of this large a gathering.


Large it was indeed - over ten thousand souls were crammed from wall to wall.


" Contained herein is the wish of the Sovereign Government of Muunlist to enter into an accord of alliance, fealty, and protection with the Galactic Empire. In said accord, the Government does agree to renounce its sovereignty and subordinate itself wholly and unquestioningly to the Galactic Empire in all of its forms, no matter the Aim thereof.


" Contained also is the signature of Moff Hallix as Representative of the Galactic Empire, by the Authority of his Position as Acting Commander and Governor of the Braxant Sector.


" Is it the wish of His Excellency, Grand Admiral the Lord Baron Telan Desaria to accept this Treaty as it stands for the Admittance of Muunlist into the Galactic Empire?"


Desaria nodded solemnly. His voice boomed. " It is."


Following the affixment of the last speaker's signature to the document, the Minister of the Interior turned in his ceremonial robes to the audience.


" It is done on this Date and accepted into Law. Gloria Imperium."

[Telan Desaria]

Captain Maerris reviewed the after-action reports from the various commanders of his first successful large-scale engagement. Of course he had been senior officer in the number of actions before that day, but never on such a scale. Granted what had transpired was an easy victory but it felt great nonetheless.


Maerris tossed aside the report he held and took up a missive sent to him by High Command - - co signed by Grand Moff Lebron and his front-man, Moff Serix. In it he had been named Acting Commander, Braxant Sector Fleet, albeit in a great many more words.


In the low lit expanse of his new office aboard the Seydlitz-class Heavy Cruiser Vendetta, Maerris relaxed back. Ther springs in his chair creaked as weight gave in to gravity's pull. He closed his eyes and saw words and number before him.


Seven major warships in this detachment, five more above Bastion and twice that over Yaga Minor. A hundred pickets and gunships all answerable to me.


The burden of command now set firmly on his shoulders, the greying officer sat upright and opened a desk drawer. In it sat a holo of his charming wife. He knew she would be proud of him.


Now I need only earn that trust.


An idea now fresh in his head, Maerris made for the bridge.

[Telan Desaria]

Edge of Brita-Kajarro System


" Course laid in. Approaching exit vector."


Lieutenant Felix Weiter let his chest fall as yet another patrol came to a close. He had been captain of the picket Ferocious for a grand total of six months and had still yet to shed his jittery feeling whenever on assignment. No matter how routine the patrol, he always feared the worst.


" Mitch, you have the bridge."


Third Lieutenant Mitchis Romana nodded, signalling his classmate to take care as he left the bridge. Weiter took ina deep breath before dismounting the captain's chair. A few paces later he was in the access corridor along the spine of the Ansom-class Picket. The small hallway shook slightly, the ship's powerful CEC Deadlock engines pushing the seventy metre frame at a remarkable speed.


An adjacent passageway came up and Weiter turned to descend a ladder when the shaking of deckplates below grew with terrifying alacrity. Soon the youthful captain was tossed back onto the decking the way he had come. After his landing, the shaking subsided slightly allowing the Captain to bound for the bridge.


" Report!" he demanded, passing through the pneumatic doors. No response was forthcoming, the eight men on the bridge staring in silence through the bow viewpane. Larger than life was the ventral hull of a very old but still massive Victory I-class Star Destroyer.


We dont use those. This can't be good.

[Telan Desaria]

Brita-Kajarro System


Anatoly Travess turned from the angular prow of the Truculent, a bright fireball fading from life as he did.


The sight greeting him at the conclusion of his movement was a far cry from that he once remembered. As senior fighter officer on the Victory III-class Star Destroyer Deathreaper, he had spent a great deal of time on the bridge. Officers snapped to and crewmen stood aside. They like the Fleet and Empire they served were a driven and highly effective fighting force. Now those that stood were there at the lure of money and power.


Travess dismissed his musings - reminiscence, indeed emotion of any kind, could be detrimental to his cause. It was that cause he could not forget, not lose sight of for a moment; he would bring Telan Desaria to his knees.


Jaxx, a short and quite pudgy little man, stood aft of the port crew pit dispatching orders to his underlings. Travess received a nod from him as he passed, sneering when he was well out of visual range. That he needed such a pitiful man at all was repulsive to him - - at least on Hilari, when he had fanned the flames of insurrection, he had been master of trained and competent soldiers bent to his will.


I provide the ship and he provides the crew. How unfortunate.


Travess amused himself by dreaming of how he would most painfully dispatch Jaxx at the end of his venture.


In assuming command of several pirate enclaves he had acquired a good many men, but none skilled enough to run an Imperial Star Destroyer, even one of the lowest class. Those of any value whatsoever helmed ships arrayed around the angular warship, itself lying in wait in the shadows.


The trap has been baited...

[Telan Desaria]

Morishim


Captain Maerris relished the speed his aging muscles managed to react - no later had the door chimed and in strode Commander Hall than his feet left the desk upon which they rested. In the privacy of his office, he had been at peace and comfortable; the addition of a subordinate to the room returned Imperial rigidity.


" Yes, Commander?"


Hall took a second before answering, regaining the breath he had missed while bolting from the bridge proper. " Sir, we have lost contact with the picket Ferocious."


Curious. " Where was she last reported?"


" She reverted to realspace at the edge of the Brita-Kajarro System. A probot scanned the system an hour later and she was nowhere to be found. We have sent several standard transmissions demanding a position-update but have received no response."


Maerris searched his memory for any mention of the ship or her commander. He remembered Lieutenant Weiter as an officer who had returned from detached duty only a few days previously. The Captain had not interacted with him extensively and did not notice his ship other than its location on status boards during the previous engagement.


" Prepare a patrol. Detach Hussar and four escorts. Search that system from top to bottom."


" Yes Sir." Hall saluted and gave a crisp click of his heels.


The doors closed behind him - Maerris returned his jackbooted feet to their relaxed position and endeavored to catch up on some missed sleep. Who knew command was this sleepless.

[Telan Desaria]

Brita-Kajarro System
Two Hours Later...


" All scopes report clear, Captain."


" Very good. Push Artemis V and Demeter XII ahead fifty kilometers and commence scanning all opposite planetary positions."


Captain Fravillic moved towards the center of the bridge, sauntering slowly across the wide catwalk. One glance to either side showed diligently working crewers and one or two hidden enraged faces. Noting with some pride the latter bit, Fravillic continued fore.


His was a unique case - unlike the Chiss, Falleen, or Atzerri in the armed forces, he was Calltheron and the least humanoid of any Imperial soldier. Below his lengthened tunic was an abdomen then a thorax: the Calltheron were more insectoid than humanoid. He had a head and deep set eyes as did any human, though the latter were uniformly black and without any discernible features.


" Major Kytt is requesting permission to deploy a squadron of fighters in picket positions."


Fravillic nodded his agreement, the yeoman relaying the order as he did. Satisfaction growing, the alien stood behind the raised helm platform and clasped his taloned hands behind his back. He could feel the stare of older officers, those still xenophobic, burning into his back. He did not hold their opinion in any regard - - he knew he was superior or it would be one of them who was master of the Hussar.


The captain was summoned from his thoughts by the hurried remarks of the senior CommScan officers. " Artemis reporting two enemy ships approaching. Closing to weapons range. Requesting firing orders."


Fravillic smiled. " Granted. Fire at will. Helm - bring us to three-quarters: Comm - escorts to match. Commence pursuit."

[Telan Desaria]

The picket Artemis V accelerated ahead of its comrade to ensure they completed a rather wide right turn in the formation they had started it. Her shields flashed a bright orange as a pair of hastily fired torpedoes prematurely detonated - the fleeing enemy vessels rocketed away their first plan foiled.


Demeter XII came out of the turn a moment before the slightly larger and older Artemis. Both let loose rapid bursts or energy from fixed bow turbolaser cannon, the bolts flying straight and true. Hits were registered for both pickets, the crescendo of their fire rising as each enemy vessel pitched and rocked under the cannonade.


" They're going to split! Comm - - both ships to maintain formation. Engage nearest target." Captain Fravillic clicked his barbed nails on the command chair as he watched the skirmish unfold.


As ordered, the pickets ignored the leftmost corvette and pounced upon that which had bene too slow to yaw. Their fire merged into one lethal stream that overloaded the small craft's shields. Energy tore apart the bonds of matter as piece after piece of her was sent flying away. Without a dramatic explosion, the fleeing ship was reduced to a floating hulk, the occassional flare of burning oxygen lighting her metallic carcass.


" Captain - - something's coming around the moon. Scanners are being jammed."


" Pull those ships back immediately. Bring us within range. They were trying to reach reinforcements," Fravillic deduced. " So much the better. Ready all weapons..."

[Telan Desaria]

"...Intelligence didn't say anything of this!"


"...Hard to port! Divert all emergency power to shield emitters. Bring all fighters forward and cover whatever our deflectors cannot..."


"...Shields are down! Armor plating buckled on decks ten through fifteen, section seven to twenty-one. We're venting atmosphere..."


"...Fires are spreading beyond damage control teams' ability. We have to abandon ship..."




-*000*-



Anatoly Travess acheived complete surprise. With little loss to himself, the former Imperial General took victory from the field. A second patrol sent and lead by Captain Maerris found the wreckage of the detachment and a message addressed to the Grand Admiral.


Shortly after the engagement, known almost immediately as the Brita Massacre, Travess disappeared. The pirate bands over which he had assumed control continued to operate as a nuisance to and target practice for the Braxant Sector Fleet. The majority of assets under Travess' control disappeared. His whearabouts, while unknown to the Military, are slowly being brought to light by the Inquisitoriate.