Between Galaxies
Pain and sorrow filled the room, feeling like a dense fog that threatened to choke out the life of the one sitting cross-legged in the center. Eyes shut, muscles loosened as far as they could, and breathing controlled to a slow pace that saw minutes pass between inhales. Images flashed before Antares Draco's mind. Visions of his past flowed forth and through him, his mind's eye jerked back and forth, either troubled or traumatized by what it was seeing.
Faces of friends from long ago, companions, lovers – people whom Antares had respected, cared for, believed in. Voices echoed through the fog of sorrow, filling the room with a soft murmur that drew forth agony from the heart. His fists, unconsciously, became tight and hard as steel as they made fists in his lap. His heart began to beat faster.
I did not want it! he cried out in the Force. I did not mean to fail!
The ethereal figments of his vision crept closer, becoming more malign in nature as they did so; beseeching, screaming, and wailing. More still simply stood, silent. Eyes stared, boring into Antares' soul. The weight of those stares was unbearable.
I did not ask for this! I tried! I followed the will of the Force!
Cold air flowed around his seated form, his breath coming out in great bursts of hot mist that seemed to meld with the depressingly dark fog around him. The temperature of the room was controlled by a computer and yet it felt as icy as a cave on Hoth. Antares' knuckles were white, his hands near shaking.
A loud beep sounded. The lights of the room came on. The door at the end of the room, behind Antares, slid open. Antares gasped, feeling as if he needed to fight to the surface of some great ocean to gain a single breath of air. He stood up instantly, still lithe and strong even for his age.
“Master Draco, my apologies. I did not mean to disturb you,” came a soft voice behind him, a familiar voice. Antares turned to see Princess Dheinalia Vera Nuruodo standing in the doorway. She was dressed modestly in loose black robes, a small veil covering his head, except for her face. Seeing her clothing brought another pang to Antares' heart.
“It is fine, your highness, you did not disturb me. I was not meditating seriously,” said Antares, his voice a bit harsh.
Dheinalia looked at him with sympathy and understanding. Antares wished she wouldn't.
“I see. I was just bringing little Tanaris to see outside the viewport here. He seems to like the view from here best, for some reason.” Antares finally registered the small being wrapped snugly, warmly in Princess Dheinalia's arms. The boy had light blue tinted skin, raven-black hair, and normal-looking eyes until it was noted that while he did not bear the glowing eyes of a Chiss, his irises were still solid red, glowing bright with youth from behind them.
Antares looked to his left. The wall had a great transparisteel viewport running the entire length. Outside you could look over the vast length of the Black Ark. The Super Star Dreadnought was traveling at speeds surpassing even that normally allowed by hyperspace travel. The lights that flowed past could be beautiful to some, though Antares found nothing enjoyable about the spectacle.
“I'll leave you to it then, your Highness,” said Antares. He moved to walk past Dheinalia and leave the room. The princess's hand stopped him, gripping his arm as he passed.
“Antares Draco, please listen to me for a moment.” The tone stopped Antares cold. They seemed to hit an inner string of his soul, causing him to halt and listen.
Dheinalia's eyes looked into Antares' and the warmth there seemed to grow, imparting a spark to Antares. He felt a slight tremor course its way up his spine.
“You are Grand Master of the Imperial Knights and have served your empire with the kind of devotion and love that only poets can speak of with surety. You served our Emperor with filial love. You served my father, our Regent, with honor unsurpassed. You served my husband, Grand Admiral Thrawn, will devotion. I see in your eyes that you have forgotten the good that you have done, how much others appreciate the service you have rendered,” said Dheinalia. She seemed to gather herself.
“You are not to blame for my husband's death.”
A ragged breath came from Antares. Dheinalia could feel the muscles tighten beneath her hand.
“No one, not even you, could have prevented it. My husband chose his death, as a warrior will, and in doing so helped to save all our lives,” a hard, steely tone now flowed forward, “Do not make the mistake of thinking that because you could not prevent it that you are to blame. By trying to accept that kind of burden you lessen the worth of my husband's sacrifice.”
Antares' muscles loosened and he averted his gaze. Dheinalia dropped her hand away.
“Grand Master of the Imperial Knights, Antares Draco of Bastion, will you stand now ready to serve us again?” asked Dheinalia, her voice taking on the tone she used in courtly proceedings.
Antares, by reflex, responded to the tone by coming to attention. He turned and stared back at the princess. In a smooth, slow motion Antares fell to one knee before Dheinalia.
“I, Antares Draco, swear to serve in whatever manner is needed. I shall be thy vengeance and thy shield. I, and my Knights, will never forsake our oaths to the Thrashian Empire.”
A hand came to rest upon his head. A benediction, an acceptance.
“Then I, Dheinalia Vera Nuruodo, accept your oath. Rise, Grand Master Draco.”
The words seemed to draw Antares through the fog and his despair. True, he would never be able to forget his past, but in that moment he remembered that there was still a future. He stood up and looked down upon the open, smiling face of the little boy, Tanaris – the son of Thrawn. Yes, he thought, there is still a future.
Briefing Room A12-8, sub-level 12 | Assertor-class Super Star Dreadnought Black Ark
Moff Banston Creed took another long draft from the cup of caff that had been placed in front of him by a protocol droid. The warmth helped to wake him but a bit more. There was no day or night aboard the Black Ark, and he wasn't adjusting to the 32-hour shipboard cycle as well as some others. He glared a bit at the man sitting to his left, Moff Ivrik Leander who, for all that he was older than nearly anyone else sitting at the table, seemed outright peppy. It just wasn't natural.
“I'm still surprised we managed it,” said Moff Verna. The female moff was sitting across the table from Banston, nursing her own cup of stimulants.
“It wasn't easy,” agreed Grice, sitting to Verna's right and Ivrik's left. “The amount of trouble we went through getting the Kuati families to come along...” Grice shuddered, “It doesn't bear thinking about it too much.”
“Agreed,” said Banston, setting his cup down, “We have the future to consider. This is the single greatest migration of the Thrashian Empire since our people first left ancient Earth all those long centuries ago.”
“And we return to that cradle,” commented Gerard Holt, who spoke through a mouth full of snack sandwiches. “Though I wonder how Grand Moff Noventa will take to our arrival.”
“He was alerted and forewarned,” Verna said, sharply.
“Yes, but he's ruled our Beta Quadrant territories as a near independent fiefdom for nearly three decades,” countered Grice, surprisingly supporting Holt. “I know for a fact that if I were in his shoes that I'd be most unhappy to see the Imperial government show up on my doorstep and ready to take over the reigns.”
“Which is why we won't really be taking over the reigns,” said Banston. “In fact, on Princess Dheinalia's advice, I agreed to give up my former position as Leader of the Moff Council and give it to Grand Moff Noventa. He outranks me, at least. It's only fair to give him a reward for accepting the new reality.”
“He accepted things far better than Grand Moff Tarkin,” murmured Ivrik.
The whole group of Imperial moffs shuddered slightly, remembering the rage and ferocity that Valek Tarkin had displayed when Princess Dheinalia – backed by the Moff Council – had decided on a course of action that would change the future of the Empire of Thrashia forever. Tens of billions of citizens, entire planets, their industries, their wealth, their populations – uprooted and put aboard starships to make the great migration across the dark gap between galaxies.
“There was nothing truly left for us in the wake of the Chaos War,” said Verna, “Nothing except more war as the great nations of the galaxy prepared to crawl upon the corpse and eat at the remains like scavenger insects.”
“We did quite a bit of nibbling ourselves, before leaving,” commented Holt. “So much men and material wasted...to an extent.”
“Well, the newly minted Grand Moff Valek Tarkin has his own regional forces in the Greater Seswenna – he has already announced, by the way, that the new 'Greater Seswenna' will become an independent dominion. He's officially cutting ties, politically, with the Empire,” said Banston, revealing to the other moffs the intelligence that he'd sat on for nearly half a year while the Great Migration was being prepared.
That seemed to suck the air out of all of them.
“We truly are leaving forever...” said Grice, disbelief clear in his voice. “I am here, on this ship, among the multitude, and yet...a part of me refuses to believe it.”
“A part of all of us wish to disbelieve,” said Verna, softly. “But we cannot afford the luxury of disbelief. While we have uprooted the greater part of a galaxy and plan to transplant it into a new one, we cannot afford any weaknesses.”
The assembled group all nodded. Banston smiled and tipped his cup of caff slightly in salute to Moff Verna. She seemed to pretend to ignore it, but a knowing, mirthful glint in her eye told otherwise.
“Of course, you know what this will mean, don't you?” asked Ivrik. All eyes turned to him, but the soft-spoken old man didn't budge an inch or waver. “If we're to truly bring forth a new age for the Empire of Thrashia, we can no longer abide by halves. We, the Moff Council, were a stop-gap measure. The Regency was a stop-gap measure.”
Banston nodded. “The matter has been discussed, as you well know Ivrik. We will address the issue once we arrive at New Bastion. There are many matters to put at rest, but I agree. This is a new age and a new age requires...a fresh start.”
Verna raised her cup. “Long may it last.”
New Bastion System | Beta Quadrant | Milky Way Galaxy
The area of space dedicated to the arrival of new ships from the old, home galaxy became filled in a way that had never before been seen. The warp gate system that allowed travel through the darkness between galaxies was taxed to it's very limits. The sheer size and amount of ships that would be required to travel was mind-boggling, from the smallest freighter to the greatest megalithic industrial transporter. The Imperial Navy had never had to organize such a venture, ever in its history. Without the aid of droids and advanced AIs the organization of the effort would have been hopeless at best and dangerous at worst.
The first wave, led by the Black Ark, arrived in the tens of thousands. The New Bastion authorities were forewarned of what was coming of course, but the reality was much more intimidating than even they were quite prepared for. It would take weeks to get all of the ships situated or sent to those systems that had been designated for them.
Standing on the bridge of his personal flagship, the Carcharodon, Grand Moff Alexandros Noventa breathed deep and took it all in. The spectacle was unique, never before seen, and Alexandros was happy to feel that no sense of trepidation came over him.
“Captain,” Alexandros turned to the aft side of the Star Destroyer's bridge, “See to it that a message is sent to Princess Dheinalia and the Moff Council aboard the Black Ark. They're invited to come aboard at their convenience. Also, please make sure that Vice Admiral Eckhardt is having all of his liaison officers working through Fleet Admiral Chiraneau.”
“Yes sir, my Lord.”
