The Empire Day Ball (Invited Only)

[Tiberius Anar]

The Imperial Chancellery had originally constructed to serve as the official residence of the Moff who governed the Thyferra Sector. Not only did it serve as a home for the Moff but it also served as a showpiece of the sector’s wealth and as a place for formal gatherings. It is the latter function with which we are concerned.

The ground floor of this palatial dwelling was given over to the State Apartments- a series of formal reception rooms used by, first the Moff and, now, the Chancellor, to entertain in style. The sumptuous fittings of these rooms were said to rival even those of the old Imperial Palace on Coruscant. The rooms with their high ceilings, pale walls, columns and marble floors recalled the style of the High Alderannian and Classical Corsucanti schools (the more educated student of architecture may well have detected the influence of the Naboo in some of the rooms) that had been favoured by the Old Republic in its glory days. They were the perfect setting for the evening’s event- the Empire Day Ball.

Empire Day was the day that, as every schoolbeing knew, Emperor Palpatine began his New Order. In parts of the Galaxy where the loathsome democracies reigned this day often went unmarked and those worlds that did mark it did so with a memorial service for those that had died under Palpatine’s reign of terror. In the Imperial Sovereignty, however, it was the end of a week long holiday marked with parades in the capitals of Imperial worlds and speeches extolling the virtues of the New Order. The only dead mentioned were “the Glorious Martyrs” and the only negative thing said in relation to Palpatine was that it was a shame he was no longer at the helm of the ship of state.

The ball was actually held on the evening immediately prior to Empire Day and was regarded as the event of the season. Ask any socialite and they would tell you “Anybody who is anybody will be there.” (Ask them what they themselves were doing and you were likely to discover that they had a prior family engagement. Most unfortunate.) But their assessment of the event was quite accurate- anybody who was actually anybody would be there. The guest list (announced the next day in the Court Circular) would carry the names of every aristocrat on Thyferra, the fifteen Cabinet Ministers, the heads of several distinguished regiments, the flag officers of a number of key naval units, and the Supreme Commanders- plus attendant guests. It was a veritable “Who’s Who?” of Imperial Society.

Presiding over all this was to be the Chancellor, his wife Alexandra and, if they could convince them, their four children. At the moment, however, they were proving more than a little reluctant to attend this high society event. And some more reluctant than others…

"But, darling,"protested Alexandra Anar, her voice barely audiable through the door of her daughter's room, "You must come. You are on the guest list, it has been announced. You have to be there otherwise Daddy will look foolish."

"Good," came the muffled response, "He deserves to."

"Now you know he didn't mean what he said," protested the First Lady of the Empire, "He only wants you to behave a little more sensibly, that's all."

A gaping silence.

"You know he didn't mean it."

More silence.

"And he is sorry."

"NO HE'S NOT!" came the reply.

"He is, he really is."

"Then why doesn't he come up and say that himself?"

"Because he's busy, darling, and..."

"He's always busy." The anger in the voice was now tinged with bitterness.

"I know," said Alexandra quietly, "Now will you come out?"

"NO!"

[Telan Desaria]

Bastard politicians.


" Sir?"


Baron Telan Desaria turned to see a quizzical look on the face of his adjutant and personal guard, Lieutenant Malik. At first, His Excellency had no idea as to what the other inquired. That changed in a matter of seconds though, eyebrows arching and a tight smile crossing his face.


" Sorry, Malik. I didn't think I had said that out loud."


A longtime friend and confidant of the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy, the Fleet Assault Corps officer shook his head. " For what, sir?"


Desaria smiled and returned all attention to the mirror. For the festivities of the day, he wanted to look his best. Granted, he cared little what sniveling bureaucrats thought of him but also in attendance would be those of esteem - aristocrats and officers of the Imperial Military. To dress shoddily would dishonour them.


He cast a look at his dress tunic, brass buttons running the length of the right side from shoulder to duty belt. Each circular piece bore the Imperial Crest emblazoned upon its relfective surface. On the left sat the six red over three blue, three orange tabs of his rank plaque. They sparkled in the low light of the Grand Admiral's dressing room.


" Malik? A hand if you could."


" Of course."


As with the more rare of occassions, the Grand Admiral took a great deal of pride in wearing most instead of some of his prized decorations. His adjutant helped him place the four-pointed silver star of the War Merit Cross around his neck, followed immediately thereafter by the Grand Cross of the Imperial Cross. Malik withdrew and Desaria fixed the collar so that only the medals themselves dangled below the pristine white brim.


The Grand Admiral swatted a stray piece of imagined dust from under his plaque where two shields sat: the first and higher the Crest of the House of Desaria, the lower a jewel studded Order of Rogriss won for bravery int he field at the Battle of Belkadaan.


Desaria straightened the blood red sash running from right shoulder to left hip and enjoyed the hand-woven feel of the aged silk. He took a measure of pride in the way his golden aigulettes crossed it here and there from the like-coloured epaulettes at his shoulders.


" What do you think?"


" Marvelous, sir."


" Let us away. My great coat."

[Tiberius Anar]

Others were not taking such pride in their atire for the evening...

"Not that one. It's terrible," proclaimed Susanna Anar (know to everyone as Sussie).

"It's a lovely dress," said the maid holding the dress- a pale blue garment of the sort that is worn by the more idealised children of fairy tales.

The girl sniffed, and turned to her wardrobe. She ran her hand along the row of dresses as she said, "Yes but it is not really me." Unlike her older sister, Sussie possessed a modicum of maturity. "What about this?"

She had pulled a black dress- one that she had bought from a fashionable shop in the city when her mother was in an indulgent mood. It was not the sort of thing worn at the Empire Day Ball.

"Perhaps not," said the maid. She saw the beginings of rage in her young charge and so moved swiftly to head it off, "It won't go with the jewellery your father bought you."

"Oh," the girl looked back into the wardrobe, reached in and produced an equally unsuitable item, "This one?"

The maid sighed, this was going to take ages.

[Jarek T'chort]

"Comm for you!"

Jarek stirred in his sheets, the female voice carrying up the flight of stairs beyond the open door to his room, from the first floor. With a faint sigh, the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army rose from bed, padding over to his expansive wardrobe. Looks were deceiving, however. The wardrobe contained a collection of his uniforms, plus a number of casual suits and clothing. All the highest quality of course, from the best tailors on Thyferra. But for the size of the hand carved wardrobe, there was comparatively little inside. Jarek's long service with the military meant he kept his affects to a minimum, always ready to move at a moments notice.

After donning a pale shirt and his jodhpurs, he stalked out of his room, the memory of his peaceful sleep already fading. The stairs wound down into the first floor, where the rooms were more expansive than the bedrooms above.

"Jarek! Comm!"

The womans voice echoed again in as Jarek walked into the private study area, buttoning his shirt as he did so.

"Yeah . . ." Jarek called back, "Yeah I heard it."

The pinging of the comm grew louder as he approached his desk, whoever it was, they had some patience. He flicked it on with a finger and settled into his high backed chair.

"Marshall T'chort, sir?"

"Good morning, Hemlin." Jarek said, his eyes looking at the assorted messages on his desk. He'd get to them later. "What's the problem? Republic Fleet over Thyferra?"

"Possibly worse." Muttered the young voice of Jareks aide. "You do know what day it is, don't you?"

Jarek bit his lip, thinking. He barely remembered last night, save the young woman, Fria, who he could hear rooting around in the living area next door. Yes, that had been fun, he recalled fondly. Too long since he'd had a relaxing break, far too -

"Oh no."

Vryss caught the tone on the other end of the comm.

"Empire Ball Day."

The revelation caught Jarek somewhat by suprise, making him sit up straight in his chair.

"How long do I have to get ready?"

"A few hours sir, I've been trying to get hold of you since last night, I was about to send a speeder up. Well, I'll be up there as soon as I can."

"Wonderful." Griped Jarek, fastening the final button on his shirt. "All right, I'll see you in a short while. Bring the medals from my office too."

"I will, sir." Vryss said, his voice sounding almost as strained as Jareks.

"Oh and Vryss?"

"Sir?"

"Thank you for the reminder." Jarek grinned, hearing the rustle of static down the other end, indicating a similar grin from his aide.

"Of course sir."

The comm clicked off, with Jarek getting to his feet. He heard a rustle of a dress and looked up to see Fria enter the room. A young, stately woman in her late twenties, he had met her at a political function for the Chancellor, some months back. At least not all of these ceremonies are quite so pointless. He thought to himself.

"Trouble? She inquired as she tied her flowing red hair back into a knot.

"You could say that." Jarek smiled, "It's the Empire Day Ball."

"Ah"

"Which means I am late and I need to get ready. It also means our trip to the mountains is off."

Considering the amount of times Jarek had to run off in the past on a chore of some sort, Fria was used to the disruptions.

"Okay," she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice, "Another time then."

"Indeed." Jarek replied, feeling a tinge of guilt, "Now, I could use a hand getting ready?"

The pair ascended the grand stairs once more, there was much to prepare for and Jarek hated being late.

[Tiberius Anar]

Gauis Tiberius Nero Anar (know by his family as "Nero" and by his friends as "Tib"- the distinction b was important). He was, in many ways, like his father at the same age. A somewhat gangly youth, with disheveled hair and badly creased clothes- in short the typical academic.

He knew that he looked a sight when he wore formal atire. He knew also that nothing could look more ridiculous than his angular frame crammed into white tie and tails. He really wished he could go someplace where his appearance, scruffiness and intelligence would go unnoticed. Somewhere that did not inflict these horrible occasions on one, somewhere that he could hide.

Tib was just contemplating an escape from the latest in the round of "entertainments" when the door opened.

"Are we ready, sir?" asked the footman, "Youre mother is waiting in the drawing room."

Tib wanted to scream, to shout, to run as fast and as far away as his long legs could carry him. He toyed for a moment with the notion of slamming the door, lockking it and then contriving an escape route but stopped in mid thought. The image of his father looming up at him- a disapproving look on his face.

"Tell her I will be down in a moment."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"No!!"

"Madame Duchess-"

"Let me go, you!! I'm not going!!"

Hands gripping the doorframe with a whiteknuckled grip, Loklorien protested splendidly as the man sent to help get her ready did his best to dislodge her. It seemed to be an even draw, as both Lupine and Imperial struggled each in vain - him to pull her the rest of the way into the bedroom, and her doing her best to simply not let that happen. A woman stood by the bed, clearly unimpressed with this show of complete rebellion, and with a look of mild disdain, turned to the closet in the hopes of coming across something the Duchess had that was at least somewhat presentable to wear.

"No!! Aahh - no!! No!! I'm not going!! Let me go right now!"

The man grunted, tugging more forcefully on the woman clinging for her life to the doorframe. Fingers firmly clamped tight on whatever handhold she could manage to gain purchase of, the Lupine struggled to rid herself of his grasp.

"Duchess s'Ilancy," began the woman - Reeta - while rifling through s'Il's closet, "please. Let's be a little more civil, ok? You're on the Empire Day Ball's guest list, and simply put, it would be the greatest faux pas of the year if you do not attend - "

"I don't care! I don't want to go, and you can't make me! Aahhh!! Someone help me!!"

"Duchess, the Grand Admiral will be here shortly, and it would be very nice if you were presentable and ready to go."

The man had taken to pulling on the Lupine by her ankles as the woman talked, and putting his weight into one last pull, yanked s'Il clean off the door and into the bedroom. Both scrambled for the door, him doing his best to hold her down while she managed to get her jaws on one of his hands and deliver a rather nasty bite. Grimacing, he did his best to ignore the pain, and reaching out, pulled the door shut in one swift move. Now there was no saving her, and whether she liked it or not, Loklorien s'Ilancy would be dressed up and sent off to a ball.



An hour later...


Standing before the full-length mirror in the marble-floored foyer, s'Il stared glumly at herself. To be truthful, she didn't look half as bad as she felt. A thin, sleevless black dress covered and accentuated her lithe form, and the slits that ran up both sides to about mid-hip allowed her to show off her legs. She wore heels as well; simple yet elegant, and her hair had been brushed out, and left to cascade around her shoulders. No jewelry save for a small pendant of sorts around her neck, and just a little bit of make-up to accent her features (Reeta had given up after five minutes into that little task)

The Lupine groaned, looking like she'd just been punched in the gut, and grudgingly accepting the thick, black overcoat the woman handed her, she slipped it on.

And with a grumble, she glared daggers at Reeta.

This Empire Day Ball was the most horrible, evil, and despicable thing EVER... and she was being made to go.

[Tiberius Anar]

Alexandra Anar looked in the mirror. She had been stunningly beautiful in her youth and still managed to outshine most other women despite her fifty-five years of age. She smiled at that fact as she brushed her long auburn hair- she would dazzle them this evening.

Her smile was not out of sheer vanity (though candour compels us to admit that it played a big part in it). Her looks were part of an artfully constructed facade, designed to conceal her intelligence and make her more useful to her husband.

They had discovered long ago that men, who dominated the Imperial Government and business world, were incredibly prejudiced against pretty women. They tended to underestimate them, believing that they were too concerned with looks and other trivialities to understand matters. This tendancy led them to say things they should not in the presence of such women- allowing Alexandra to pick up useful information. Information that had, on more than one occasion, helped advance their cause.

She continued to brush her hair, smil;ing to herself.

[Serena Laran]

Hands outfitted with long fingers brushed along the stark white fabric, making sure not even a speck of dust or lint remained on the outfit. After much internal struggling, the Fleet Admiral had decided against her dress whites. Usually they were the most appropriate uniform for formal occasions, but the Empire Day Ball was a special occasion.

And she was not a man.

A small voice in her head tried to convince her that since she was newly back to the Sovereignty, showing up out of uniform at any time was probably a horrible idea. However, opting for a completely white dress was the second best option to a uniform. If there was going to be dancing, or socializing, it would be best for her to be distinguishable from the men,

Her height wouldn't set her apart; the Fleet Admiral stood a just under six feet tall and had features that were best described as 'strong' or even 'handsome.' She wasn't gorgeous in the traditional sense, and her duties dictated that any beauty she did have were hidden behind an Imperial facade of duty. Serena enjoyed her work, and the outfit she was in now made her feel a tad uncomfortable.

Not that she was immodest, for she was perfectly covered, but the Ball was the first occasion that many of these men would see her, men that she would have to prove herself to again and again, regardless of the Grand Admiral's thoughts about her competence. Being a woman in the Imperial Navy was a constant uphill battle, and she made a point of never giving any man an excuse to find fault in her. Her flagship was always gleaming, her uniforms spotless, and everything was done to the letter of the law.

Impatiently, Serena brushed her hands down the length of the skirt once more, before checking her hair in a mirror. Her waist length red hair was carefully upswept into a twist that left no hair out of place. A little more staring in the mirror took in the rest of her outfit: a white, mock turtleneck sleeveless dress that hugged her curves without the fabric being obnoxiously thin. Her shoulders and arms were strong, but she did not feel especially sure of herself.

The Empire Day Ball was a chance to impress the other members of the Navy, but she wasn't sure that she really wanted to go.

[Tiberius Anar]

The eldest of the Anar children, Livilla, was not actually living at home anymore (although for security and social purposes she officially was). She was also, by a curious co-incidence, the only one of the four children actually looking forward to the ball.

Her reasons were complex, but could be boiled down to three simple words: Eligible Young Men.

Livilla had decided that, given her unfortunate station in life (being the duaghter of the de facto head of state puts a serious crimp in a person's career plans) the best thing to do was to marry someone who was likely to go places, and then achieve her goals through him. Where better to select, and capture, such a person than at the event of the year.

In accordance with this plan she had selected a particularly stunning gown and spent considerable time at facialists, hairdressers, manicurists and so on just to be sure that she would make the right impression. Not that she needed it. She was reasonably certain that any man would find her attractive even if their first encounter with her was after her morning run on a particularly hot day.

"We're here, Miss Anar," the chauffeur's voice announed over the speaker as they pulled in at a side door.

"Thank you," she called in her silvery voice.

[Telan Desaria]

" Permission to speak freely, Sir?"


Grand Admiral Desaria turned from the window, Xucphra City whizzing past he he and his cavalcade sped through it from his Minaari Mountain estate. The somewhat angst-ridden face of his Chief of Staff, Brigadier General Maxim, sat on a holomonitor.


" Of course."


" Off the record?"


Desaria gave a mock growl. He knew he was speaking to a friend and not a subordinate now. " Go on or I will shut off the monitor."


At his desk on the Intimidator, the General shook his head. " Are you sure this is a wise decision?"


Desaria tugged at the cuffs at the collared undershirt below his tunic. " Sure what is wise?"


Maxim snarled at his superior's obvious avoidance of the subject. His silence after several moments prompted the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy to respond, charade fallen.


" Max, I made her a Duchess for her service - a service you suggested to me in the first place. Now, if I do not take her to one of the most high profile events of the year, what sort of example am I setting? I am a lot of things, but ungrateful isn't one of them!"


Maxim frowned. " So send her some roses."


" Max..."


" Well, you know who she can be! As your chief of staff, I have to consider your image. What if she embarasses you?"


" Max - stop worrying. I am the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy as well as the Baron of Kronstadt. I can handle her."


" She is....S'Ilancy!" Maxim exclaimed, adding her name as if it were justification in a single word of his entire argument. Some would agree.


" Relax. I brought the Xeronians into the Empire. If I can tame them, I can tame Duchess S'Ilancy. Desaria - out."


In the bowels of the Intimidator high above Thyferra, Brigadier General Maxim's holo-cam died. Into the emptiness of his office, he muttered.


" That woman...."

- - -

" Admiral," called Malik from the driver's compartment. " We're here..."

[Tiberius Anar]

Alexandra Anar reviewed her children in much the same way as a general reviews his troops before a parade.

"Nero, your tie," she cided her son.

"Sorry, Mother," answered Tib, straightening the offending article.

"Sussie is that dress entirely suitable?"

"I think so, Mother."

"Hmm," Alexandra considered it for a moment and then decided against further argument. It would do.

The door opened to admit Livilla. She glided over and pecked her mother on both cheeks. "Hello, Mother. You look wonderful."

"Thank you darling," Alexandra stepped back slightly and examined her daughter's gown, "Exquisite."

"Thank you." Livilla did a turn before heading for her younger siblings. They exchanged greetings.

"Where's Julia?" she asked, looking around the room, "She is coming I take it?"

"Oh yes, just as soon as your father apologises."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

As Reeta opened the front door, s'Il gave her a look that would have killed the Emperor. "If I ever see you near my home again I'll eat your face."

"Duchess," Reeta started, seemingly ignoring the threat, "please be sure to be on your best behavior. The Gand Admiral is taking a risk in escorting you this evening and -"

"Oh shut up, woman," s'Il cut her off. Stalking towards the waiting vehicle that had just arived, the LUpine sighed. She appreciated the fact that Desaria was willing to accompany her, she really did. Now hopefully she wouldn't be bothered by the rumor-mongering aristocrats ; following her around and trying to see if she was a changeling.

Hopefully.

[Tiberius Anar]

Tiberius Anar (and the attendant bodyguards) walked down one of the corridors in the Chancellery, already dressed in his white tie and tails. He looked particularly elegant in this mode of dress thanks to his thin angular frame.

He wore only a handful of decorations. Beneath his jacket a red sash bordered with gold (the colours of the Imperial Sovereignty) cut from left shoulder to right hip. On his left breast he wore only the Grand Cross of the Order of Civil Merit, and around his neck the Imperial Eagle emblem of the Ruling Council. The only other ornament he wore was the small gold pin on his lapel, the Imperial Wheel- the emblem of the New Order.

Despite his statesmanly appearance he was not in a statesmanly frame of mind as he plodded his way towards his daughter's room. His mind had, he would admit, been somewhat disturbed by recent events and was in no state of mind to be dealing with a family crisis. Indeed it was this that had led to the disagreement with his daughter that had led to the present family difficulties.

It seemed ironic to him, as he rounded a corner, that a man who ruled an empire of several hundred billion beings could not rule a family of six. Strange though it may seem, striking works are easier to deal with than a rebellious daughter.

He has rather hoped that she would grow out of it, become more settled and civil with time but now it seemed she would not. This was bad enough from a family standpoint, but from a political one it was even worse. A disunited family was a burden for any politician, but for one who prided unity and order it was a crippling one to bear.

He had reached the door by now. He looked at the bodyguards standing around him. Their presence was unnecessary (unless she was in a particularly foul mood in which case they were and absolute must) so he waved them away. Once he was sure that they were out of sight he knocked gentley on the door.

"Julia?" he called softly, "Can I come in?"

Silence.

"Julia?" he repeated a little louder.

Still silence.

"I didn't mean what I said, you know. I was just angry."

There was very quite click and the door opened about half an inch to reveal Julia's angry face. She stared at him. He felt rather uncomfortable.

"Will you come down now?"

"No."

"Why not? I have apologised afterall so you should come downstairs."

"You haven't apologised properly."

His temper flared. Normally he was not easily goaded but when he was in this frame of mind and when it was his own child who goaded him he could not control himself.

"Will you stop being so childish! I have apologised for my error, isn't that enough?"

The door slammed shut. There was the sound of the lock being closed and then silence.

Anar gestured to one of the security men."Open the door, please."

[Telan Desaria]

The estate of Duchess Loklorien S'Ilancy fit every bit the aristocratic position that woman had attained. On either side of the stone-lined entrance way were shimmering pools, fountains sprouting from their centres. Fauna of the rarest and most beautiful kind adorned every square centimeter. Though the Xucphra City skyline cropped up over the tall trees, the secluded property was as serene as it could have been anyway on Thyferra.


Grand Admiral Desaria stepped out of the limousine that had completed its trek along the entrance and now waited in front of the Duchess' foyer. A pair of sloops sat ahead, members of the Imperial Guards division upon them, an armored car behind holding a squad of heavily armed soldier in it. It was the smallest escort the Grand Admiral could agree to - - - other members of the General Staff not to mention his own Staff wanted little less than an entire regiment with him.


" Her Grace the Duchess S'Ilancy!" announced the yeoman as a pair of servants parted the orante wooden doors at the end of the entry hall. The mentioned lady stepped out into the cool evening air and forced any mention of Nature's beauty around them to pale in comparison.


Were the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy any other race than Centaurian, he would have been doubtless driven by his eyes to fawn over the Duchess. Even as a Centaurian, he could give great measure to her attractiveness. No such measure could be given, however. He was the consumate gentleman.


The Baron closed his eyes and bowed deeply. Uprighting himself a moment later, he opened the door from whence he had come and motioned the Lady in.

[Tiberius Anar]

The doors of the drawing room swung open with unusual force to admit the Chancellor and his bodyguards. His family looked at him curiously, their question easily discernable and equally easy to answer.

"Julia," he snapped.

Julia entered the room dressed in a purple ball gown, her midlength golden brown hair brushed out, her face showing the fainest signs of make up. She looked quite beautiful, she also looked very angry.

"Over there Julia," said Anar in a tone of voice that suggested firing squads. His middle daughter obeyed, moving to stand with the rest of the family.

"Good," said Anar after a moment's consideration of his children and wife. He glanced in the mirror that hung over the fireplace to check his own appearance. Then he offered his arm to Alexandra, "Shall we?"

***

The State Ball Room was a magnificent sight under normal circumstances. It was a massive space with thrity two collumns around the outer edge supporting a balcony with gilded bulastrades. The great expanse of ceiling was filled with a complex allegory of Imperial myth with the Crest of the Empire at its centre, which depicted the rise and fall, then rise again, of the Empire over the past eighty years.

Beneath this painted expanse was an open space of enormous proportions. A third of it was occupied by tables set for twelve at whichthe guests would dine, the rest of the space was left open for milling and dancing.

The Anars, even Julia, paused to admire this spectacular arrangment as they entered. Anar beamed at his wife, "Absolutely stunning, dearest."

"Thank you," replied Alexandra with a modest smile.

"Now you four," said Anar in the same tone he used to command his ministers, "Behave yourselves."

"Yes, Father" they chorused.

"But do enjoy yoursleves," added Alexandra as she and her husband moved off to the main doors to start receiving guests.

"We'll try," muttered Julia, already heading for the bar, her brother in tow.

[Serena Laran]

She should have worn her uniform. Somehow she'd known that she needed to be identified as an Admiral at all times, but forgotten it when she'd been getting dressed. There was a pin in her hair, holding her twist in place, that was dotted with colored squares denoting her rank, but that was all.

Fleet Admiral Laran felt that the pin was very improper, as it was just a piece of jewelry that was a pale representation of a true uniform, but now was faintly glad it was in her hair. At the very least, a bit of her was in uniform, even if it was against strict dress code.

The Imperial Chancellor and his handsome family filed into the ball room, announced as was their right. The people nearest to the Chancellor bowed or saluted, and some went over to press him into conversation immediately. Serena stayed frozen where she was, near the wall, watching everything going on around her. She recognized no one.

In fact, she was so intent on trying to watch everything, that she completely ignored a young man standing at her elbow who was trying to ask her to dance. Frustrated, the young lieutenant moved on, muttering about the 'ice queen' who'd ignored him. Serena continued to scan the floor, green eyes cool and wary.

[Tiberius Anar]

A chamberlain approached Laran. He was dressed in white-tie and tails and wore no decorations. He was the very essence of discretion.

"Admiral Laran?" he asked in carefully modulated tones, "Perhaps you would care to join the receiving line?"

He indicated the line of dignataries that had formed leading back from where the Chancellor stood out into the hall. Already the Anars were going through the motions of polite interest in their guests.

***

Anar smiled what must, already, have been for the fiftieth time at one of his guests as she moved towards the dance floor.

"Ah, Yashimoto delighted to see you!" he greeted his Foreign Minister with a warmth that was mostly simulated.

"Thank you, Your Excellency," said Shen with a bow. He was pleased to know he warrented such an open display of warmth- despite its probable insincerity. That he was important enough for the Chancellor to fein enthusiasm pleased him no end. "May You remember my wife?"

Anar did not infact recall the rather plump woman who was on his minister's arm, but an aide behind him instantly supplied the name in a barely audible whisper.

"Denara, of course, how lovely to see you." He gave a curt bow to the lady, rather than kiss her oversized hand.

Shen sensed that he ought to move on so with a smile and nod to Madam Anar he walked off towards the table.

Anar, meanwhile, looked to see who his next guest was...

[Jarek T'chort]

Here goes . . .Thought Jarek T'chort as he strode past a line of powdered dignitaries in the finest outfits credits could buy. He was dressed in his olive dress uniform, rank bar and code cylinders perfectly placed and aligned. A silver braid hung from his epaulettes and his sleeves were lined with black piping - an unusual addition to his uniform, which served as a nod to his leadership of the Storm Corps. A deck of medals and awards hung from his chest, but pride of place was his Imperial Cross, gleaming in the bright lights outside the Ball Room.

His jackboots tapped on the marbled floor as he passed a fifteen foot statue of Palpatine, his cloaked figure somehow still seeming commanding, one hand lifted as if invoking his subjects to do his bidding. The stone hood was ornately carved, the folds mostly concealing the wizened face of the long dead Emperor. Jarek paused a moment as he watched the statue, a sense of pride building within his chest.

Once inside, Jarek passed through the multitude of well-to-do beings that had gathered. A preliminary glance revealed few faces he recognized. He was somewhat swept into the crowd, though he found a way through them, pushing past those headed for the dance floor. Dancing was something Jarek found tedious, let alone enjoyable. Upon seeing the Chancellor, the Field Marshall, his pair of bodyguards in tow, was quickly discovered by a footman, who bade him follow toward the receiving line.

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar was surprised to see the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army at the head of the receiving line. He would have expected T'chort to wait until later before making his enterance, given his known distaste for social events.

"Field Marshall T'chort," he said with an easy smile, "a pleasure to see you once again. I don't believe you have met Aleandra." He turned towards his wife.

"Alexandra, this is Field Marshall T'chort, one of the tactical genii that fight the wars of the Sovereignty."

The First Lady smiled at the Field Marshal and offered her gloved right hand to him.

[Jarek T'chort]

T'chort returned the Chancellor's smile as he took Lady Alexandra's hand, giving the gloved hand a dignified peck. T'chort straightened his back and nodded to Anar. The Chancellor had at first been at odds with the Field Marshall, the lack of notification about the ongoing offensive against the New Republic had left Anar somewhat perturbed, which Jarek understood. Since then, a measure of respect had been cultivated between the two, despite the ignorance for one another's line of work. The work of a politician was not beyond his comprehension, for Jarek prided himself upon his knowledge of the inner working of government since the rise of Anar, but to succeed in the duplicitous world of the politician was something Jarek had no real grasp upon, nor any wish to.

"Thank you your Excellency, an honor to be here."

Smiling at the distinguished Alexandra, T'chort bowed sharply and moved away, catching the eye of the sullen Julia. A wink and a quick grin made her blush and return the grin, before Jarek was lost in the crowd.

[Tiberius Anar]

The next guest to appraoch the Anar's was a woman. She was clad all in white and walked in a way that seemed both graceful and curiously authoritatian. The face seemed familiar to Anar and it clicked just as the aide standing behind him intoned, "Fleet Admiral Laran, Excellency."

They had met, only briefly, when Carida had joined the Imperial Sovereignty and Anar had accompanied the diplomatic mission. She had worn her uniform then, disguising her looks and nature. Now both were clear to him and he felt compelled to indicate that.

"Madam," he said in his richest of tones accompanied with a sharp bow, "your long absence from Thyferra has been a great pitty. It is pleasing to see you amongst us once again."

[Serena Laran]

She was face to face with the Chancellor and his wife, and back in her element. "Thank you, Chancellor. I am pleased to serve the Empire, wherever it may send me." She returned his bow with a quick salute and a nod, returning to her ease before he had a chance to admonish her to do so. "Thyferra has never been greater than it is tonight, and it is my pleasure to be present to recognize this."

[Tiberius Anar]

"Fine words, madam," said Anar sollemnly, "Fine words for a fine occasion, and all the more so coming from one of your profession."

Alexandra watched this exchange, suspiciously. She was certain of her husband's love for her but not his loyalty at times. Had she considered the matter she might have realised that he had no choice but loyalty to her- given her intimate knowledge of his political dealings- but she was on the defesive. An attractive woman, an admiral, able to cause Tiberius to wax poetic was a potential threat that had to be neutralised.

"They tell me,Admiral, that you are a protegee of the Grand Admiral," she said slyly, "You will be delighted to know that he will be attending this event. Perhaps you can remenisce about old times?"

She felt her husband's posture shift slightly. He had remembered that Laran was a soldier whose loyalties lay with the Navy and its Supreme Commander. He would not be swayed by her charms now.

The Chancellor smiled, somewhat stiffly in response to his wife's observation, "Of course, I am sure he will be delighted to see you, Admiral. Enjoy the ball."

[Serena Laran]

And just like that, she was dismissed. Admiral Laran was nonplussed by the abruptness of it, and smiled at Anar's wife as she took her leave. A cool, calculated smile, one that would make that snake think a bit more.

Walking towards the buffet tables once more, Laran went over in her head what had just happened. I wouldn't say that I am his protoge, actually, more like his equal. No, no... that would not do. Carida is better off protected by this Empire, no matter that the Diktat... former Diktat gave that system to me to protect. Protoge! More like 'ally who was bullied into it by superior forces, and then silenced by a promotion!' And as far as reminiscing about old times, Madam Anar, I have never thought that chatting about past fleet excursions was a pleasant way to spend an evening. There, that told her off.

Serena was a straightforward woman, but her mother had been exactly like Alexandra Anar, so it was easy to spot the underlying, unspoken dialogue. And easy to be disgusted by it. Laran considered herself above such petty power plays. And to assume that Laran posed some kind of threat...? Serena allowed herself a smile at that, as she navigated around the ballroom floor. If she was going to seduce a man, at any time, it certainly wouldn't have been the Chancellor.

Her silent indignation over her sudden ejection from the receiving line had brought up two spots of color in her cheeks, and she asked a serving girl for a glass of water. No, she had to be here, away from her command ship and her crew, and so she was going to make the best of it. It was, after all, her duty.

[Danik Drayton]

Colonel Danik Drayton lay asleep in full dress uniform, his top button undone and his mouth wide open. His medals and clasps lay in neat order on a fine side table. His holster thrown clumsily across the top of the ornately carved wooden edging of the most warlike of fainting couches.

His driver sat slouching in an armchair his painstakingly polished boots resting on the glass surface of a cofee table. Sgt Digby, the colonels batman of many years had just shaken himself out of the long sleep that had ocupied him for the last hour. He make use of the marvelous facilities layed out before them for the evening. A suite in one of the finest hotels in the district. Good compensation for the many hours spent in the company of reporters over the last few days. The three of them had been on Thyferra for a brief publicity trip before rejoining thier unit.

Digby yawned as he walked from the bathroom into the lounge. He looked over at a viewer which was currently displaying the news. Live footage of guests arriving at the Empire Day Ball filled the screen. The Sergeant's jaw dropped.

[Telan Desaria]

" Presenting His Excellency Grand Admiral the Baron Telan Desaria, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy."


The voice of the yeoman boomed out over the stirings of music from the classic quintet tucked away on a platform in the depthsa of the hall, over the chatter of gathered politicians and military notables, over the clatter of trays and the finest flatware in the galaxy. Those who turned to see the finely dressed Sergeant Major of the Imperial Army and his fine-Academy tenor would have been impressed by the field on medals on his chest and the polish to his boots. He was the consumate model non commissioned officer.


Stepping to the fore from behind after the yeoman withdrew was the connsumate flag officer. Dressed in a tunic of pristine white with breeches to match, two of the most sought after decorations in the service dangled at the neck of the tall if not imposing Centaurian. Above his rank plaque sat two elongated rows of campaign ribbons, below - three crests meiticulously earned. From right shoulder to left hip ran a crimson sash hand sitched with a fine Embrian silk.


Grand Admiral Desaria stood at the entrance to the Great Hall and began a slow saunter down the six steps to the floor, a well dressed lady on his arm. This was no mean feat for a Centaurian male, no less the Imperial Supreme Commander. Ears perking to the sound of her murmuring, he distinctly heard her comment, " Oh that was subtle."


Desaria smiled imperceptibly, the Holo recorders catching only a twitch of a smile pulling at his lips. To his guest Her Grace the Duchess Loklorien S'Ilancy he had never made a secret of his love for pomp or circumstance. She on the other hand.....


Politicians and others were congregating at the step's terminus and forming the ibiquitous receiving line, at its end the Lord High Chancellor of the Empire. Standing behind was Field Marshal Fieri von Laang. From the obviously maniacal glee evidenced by the latters doubling over aqnd grinning, Desaria knew he had taken up such a position so he would have to run the political gauntlet to be in the friends of tacticians and true gentlemen. He reminded himself to demote the Falleen Fighter Corps commander post haste.


Ignoring the assembled politicians, he made best speed to Lord Anar, the Madame Duchess on his arm. Bowing regally, he thundered " Your Excellency."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

If she could have, s'Il would have lodged the heel of her shoe into Desaria's polished, booted foot. Sometimes, just sometimes, she wished he wouldn't be so conspicuous - of course, she also knew he had in his possession a streak of complete pompousness. So instead, the Lupine allowed a soft sigh of exhasperation escape her lips. She'd simply have to cope; she did after all, promise to behave herself.

Though as the Grand Admiral addressed Anar, she looked away for a few moments wondering if there was any way for her to get out of that promise. There were just too many socialites and higher-ups around - she could almost see the targets painted on their backs.

Metallic eye focussed back to Anar though, a lopsided grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Chancellor." she started, the tone of her voice sickeningly sweet, "So nice to see you again."

[Tiberius Anar]

"I am equally glad to see you, Your Grace," Anar said, although the cold look in his eyes suggested that this might be less than true. He had good reason for this. Their last meeting had been somewhat disaterous, and that had been just the two of them, what would it be like with several hundred others around?

He gave the back of s'ilancy's hand the most perfuntionary of kisses. He straightened up again.

"I trust the Admiral," he looked pointedly at Desaria,"will be an attentive and thoughful escort."

[Telan Desaria]

Whether the Lord High Chancellor threw at the Supreme Commander a barbed glare the latter could care not. There were two places the Baron of Raenoria excelled - the battlefield and the ballroom. He entered the grand reception hall with evert intention of making his aristocratic prowess noticed by the rather secretive clique Tiberius Anar had built around himself.

The Grand Admiral allowed himself an abbreviated bow in the direction of the political head of the Empire. " I will do my best. I only hope you will allow me the privilege of at least one waltz with your charming daughter."

Desaria nodded to the female on the arm of the Chancellor - obviously his wife, but he feigned ignorance for chivalry's sake.

At that moment, the Grand Admiral's comm chirped. Politely excusing himself, he listened intently amid the cacophony of the hall, and his face grew grim. Bowing to the Duchess S'Ilancy, he whispered an apology and called for his car. Something required his attention at Command and off he went. There was no rest for the weary.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She was on her best behavior. She wasn't supposed to do anything aside from act like the proper, well-mannered woman. But oh God in Heaven she wanted to laugh out loud at Desaria's words. As much as she enjoyed his company and having him around whenever he was able, there were instances where he just took the cake and ran with it like a gundark on fire.

So instead of laughing, the Lupine simply smiled sweetly - albeit feigned - and ever so slightly pulled on the Grand Admiral's arm to indicate that they pass on into the rest of the ballroom.

Hopefully she would be able to lose him in the mill of people present in order to wander through the patrons herself, but at the same time it would be nice to share a dance or two with him.

After all, she wasn't that unrefined.

[Antoine Lavoisier]

Admiral Antoine Lavoisier ran a hand through what was left of his graying hair. Normally, he would have enjoyed such a festive occasion, but everything about perturbed him. The brightly cloroed banners hanging from the walls, the decorated columns, the intricate designs on the ceiling, upbeat music, and all of the elegantly attired delgates and invitees. It was an embarassment.

From his position, Lavoisier could still see the immense statue of Palpatine in the courtyard. How could the empire have fallen so far from its dignified roots. And not just here, everyday he saw it around him. Citizens of all ranks engaged in such lavish salons; even sub-humans were welcome. After decades in the navy, he had come to realize that the Sovereignty was in need of drastic reforms, lest it become something akin the the mongrel New Republic.

"Palpatine would be appalled." Lavoisier murmered under. An aide passing cast a curious glance at him, but kept on.

Lavoisier silently cursed at his carelessness. Best to keep to keep a low profile or I'll attract the Inquisition. Noticing that he had nearly reached tge head of the line, he quickly checked over his pure white dress-uniform. He straightened out the sash, and made sure the many medals an campaign ribbons were positioned perfectly. He caught a relfection of himslef in one on the highly polished columnades. The Admiral looked almost regal, as was expected of someone at his rank. He hated it.

Here goes nothing.

With a beaming smile, Antoine took a step forward. extending his hand.

"It's a pleasure to see you again your excellency."

[Tiberius Anar]

An aide behind Anar was quick to notice the danger. Lavoisier might be a sneior naval officer and one who held an important command, but he was not somone that the Chancellor would be expected to instantly remember. He breathed out the name Lavoisier in a barely audible whisper and hoped that Anar would remember when they had last met.

He need not have worried, however, Anar had spent three days memorising the names and faces of his guests. More importantly he had a list of where they had met tucked away in some corner of his mind.

"Admiral Lavoisier, splendid to see you," beamed Anar as if he had been reuinted with an old friend, clasping the admiral's proffered hand, "The Intra-Sector Forces Boat Race wasn't it?"

[Antoine Lavoisier]

Lavoiser acknowledged Anar's statement with a faint smile reminiscencing the event.

"Indeed. And a spectacular race it was."

Antoine was surprised that the Chancellor remembered the event. Lavoisier could vaguely recall the race himself, and only for the fact that the pilot he had bet on ended up wrecking his boat.

"Perhaps once this fracas at Bestine is over, another race would be in order."

Lavoisier withdrew his hand and cast a glance at Anar's family. Alexandra Anar was playing the part of the receptive host well, but the younger children seemed about to burst from lack of activity.

"Oh, please forgive an old fool's poor manners."

Like a true gentleman, Lavoisier bowed and lightly kissed Mrs. Anar's hand."

"An honor to meet you m'lady."

[Tiberius Anar]

"I am pleased to make your aquaintance, Admiral. My husband is more of a racing enthusiast, although I am not otherwise we might have met sooner."

"I will admit I am something of a fanatic when it comes to the races. A deplorable lack of hand-eye co-ordination on my part prevents me from taking it up myself."

A brief exchange of laughter followed this self-deprecating comment. Then without pausing Anar decided to move his guest on.

"Well do enjoy the party, Admiral."

[Antoine Lavoisier]

"I shall do my best, your excellency. Gloria Imperum."

With a final parting bow, Lavoisier moved towards the dining section. He scanned the dance floor. Among the swirls of intricate colors of all of the invitees, he picked out Grand Admiral Desaria accompanied by Dutchess S'llancy. If Lavoisier's eyes had been laser cannons, the hall would have been incinerated. Out of all of Desaria's faults, this was the worst. The thought that any high ranking officer, let alone the leader of the sovereignty's navy, would fraternize with a sub-human was appaling.

Antoine turned, the look of disgust still on his face, and walked the final distance to the dining tables.

[Danik Drayton]

Danik dived into the back seat of his transport for the evening, Sgt Digby had not even got his foot into the confines of the speeder when their driver began to move from the hotel's speeder park, nearly knocking down one of the establishment's porters. Before he could stand up to give the driver a good talking to, the speeder shot off into the distance.

Drayton spent the suprisigly short journey brushing his uniform down and making himself look more than just repectable. The Sgt, who was fuming with the near loss of his left leg to a column as they had set off, seemed not to care about the state if his boots. Drayton was able to sooth Digby's rufled feathers with a few sharp words. Before they knew it they had arrived.

Drayton waited for his door to be opened before stepping out. His rather furoughed brow swiftly rose as a smile appeared across his face. With that he moved up towards the grand entrance hall, putting a sort of swagger into his "performance". In a few minutes he was standing infront of Anar himself. He brought his heels together, nodded his head and smiled. "Good evening your excellency."

[Tiberius Anar]

Supplied with the name of this guest by his aide, and drawing on his own memory, Anar was able to treat the colonel to the same warm welcome as all his guests.

"Ah, Colonel Drayton. Welcome!"

Hand shakes were exchanged. Bows were made and smiles passed around.

"You're making quite a name for yourself, Colonel. The reports that cross my desk speak highly of you. What was it now? Asmeru, Eriadu and now, of course, Bestine. Quite a record."

He was stretching the truth of course. Prior to the opening of the latest offensive he had been just another CO on the Order of Battle. Now that he was one of the commanders in a highly successful, if bloody, battle Drayton was the CO. For propaganda purposes at least

As if to underline this fact, a photograher siddled up and began snapping pictures.

"How are you finding the Capital, Colonel?" asked Alexandra with a smile. Somehow she managed to direct it at both the colonel and the photographer at the same time.

[Danik Drayton]

"Good evening Sir, Madam, a pleasure to meet the both of you." Turning to the Chancellors wife Drayton smiled, " so far my visit here has been a wonderful experiance, it is only on a rare occasion that I am able to stay here in the Capital so as you can imagine much has changed since i was here last."

The photographer caught another moment in stilness as Drayton turned back to teh Chancellor. "I'd just like to thank you sir for my invitation to this special occasion, I find it hard to imagine the scale of planning such a thing must take for you and your staff."

[Tiberius Anar]

"Actually, Colonel, this is very much my wife's affair. She is so well organised I really ought to have her in the Cabinet."

They all shared a laugh. The photographer snapped a couplke more shots then retreated. He had several pictures he knew would make it into the news the next day. His Excellency welcomes returning hero.

"Well I do hope you enjoy the party, Colonel," said Anar shaking Drayton's hand.

Another guest seen to.