Star Wars: Imperial Civil War [IC] [Open]

[Austria and Bavaria]

Star Wars: Imperial Civil War

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Co-OPs: Austria and Bavaria and Lunas Legion

The Emperor is dead, and the Empire is in shambles. Following the defeat of the Empire at Endor, and the loss of the Second Death Star, the New Republic has conquered vast swathes of territory, and the Empire is on the brink of collapse. Rogue Imperial officers and bureaucrats have set up independant potentates across the galaxy, and even what remains of the Empire is rife with dissension and intrigue. Will the Empire unite and crush the nascent New Republic, or will the Empire be condemned to the dustbin of history? Only time will tell.

[Austria and Bavaria]

Grand Admiral Rufaan Tigellinus, The Bridge of the Star Destroyer Avatar, in orbit over Coruscant

Grand Admiral Tigellinus stood on the bridge of the Avatar, looking out on the planet below. A shadow a smile flickered across his face as he observed the meager defense of the planet. Director Isard had successfully manipulated the Ruling Council into stripped the Coruscant Defense Fleet to a mere seven Victory-Class Cruisers and a handful of Golan platforms. The fact of the matter was that the sextet of Star Destroyers that had just dropped out of hyperspace to deliver him could have blasted the defense fleet out of the sky was a source of great amusement to the Admiral. Not that we was going to do any such thing, not yet at any rate. But the intimindation factor remained, and that was, of course, the very purpose in bringing them. Tigellinus turned his head slightly towards the crew pits, and spoke quickly, but with an even voice. "Lieutenant, hail Lord Pestage immediately, I wish to speak with him, directly." Pestage may have been a dolt, but he was, for the time being, the Regent of the Empire, and no doubt had designs on making himself emperor. There were few things more dangerous than ambitious idiots- save perhaps idiots who fancied themselves to be brilliant, such as Isard. Indeed, it was Isard's foolishness that had convinced Tigellinus to return to the capital. Reports had streamed in from his allies in COMPNOR and the ISB, of Isard quietly disposing of lesser rivals, of manipulating the council, and, in her most recent outrage, having the criminal low-life Flirry Vorru appointed to the council. "That will not do, that will not do at all..." Tigellinus muttered to himself. He was allowed only a few more minutes of thought before the hologram before him glowed to life, and his talk with the Regent would begin.

[Lunas Legion]

Ysanne Isard
Imperial Intelligence Headquarters Building, Coruscant

Her office in II's HQ was rather spartan. Grey floor, grey walls, simple desk with a built-in holographic interface, four chairs, a large window looking out onto the Coruscant skyline. No decorations, no ornamentation; not because she disdained such things, but because such things were, more than likely, bugged by someone. Herself, COMPNOR, someone else within II, the Imperial Security Bureau, Palpatine himself. So many people could be listening in, so she did her best to minimise the possibility.

Regardless, here she was, sat on one side of her desk, the band of miscreants who were termed her 'faction' on the other side. The Grand Moffs of Oversector 2 and 8 Flirry Vorru and Vilim Disra respectively, sat on her far left and left. Treacherous opportunists both; if she screwed up, they'd be among the first to find a new benefactor. In the center, Baron Burr Nolyds, Vice-Chairman of the Imperial Ruling Council. Powerless, charisma-less, little more than a puppet on her strings and everyone but him knew it. To her right, Ennix Devian, Palpatine's personal assassin. Trustworthy, for now; he was as much of a die-hard Imperial as she was, if not more so.

"We are here to discuss the matter of one Grand Admiral Tigellinus." Ysanne began, glancing over her fellow 'allies'. "His presence here is unwanted; Devian has informed me that his removal by extraordinary means is currently impractical, so I have summoned you all here to lay down what we are going to do."

She turned to Vorru and Disra. "I shall attempt to have the Ruling Council confirm our Grand Moffs as commanders of their Sector Armies, as is their right, and should I fail in that I will do my utmost to have you at least placed as second-in-command of the 2nd and 7th Sector Armies respectively." She needed those chronic criminal backstabbers off of Coruscant and soon; the longer they were here, the more likely she'd wake up with a knife in her back. "By gaining command of our own military forces, the military power wielded by the Grand Admiral and his allies will be diminished."

"Baron Nolyds, I expect you to do everything in your power-" She didn't bother stating how little that was. "to assist in that, and to frustrate any attempts by the Grand Admiral to appoint his own supporters to positions of military command, if necessary by appointing members of other factions in their place. "

Finally, she turned to Devian. "Devian, as Director of Imperial Intelligence, I'm granting you the rank of Vice-Director. Your login codes are the same as they were under the Emperor; I've given you some tasks already, nothing too difficult for a man of your capabilities; see to them at once. Meeting adjourned."

Calling it a meeting was generous; it was her laying down orders.

---

Devian did not question orders. It was not his place to question; he was a simple assassin. Yet, as he stared into the dead face of Ysanne Isard through the frosted glass, he couldn't help but question this one. Follow an obscure series of passageways through the Imperial Palace, collect an item and destroy several others, move said item to another location where there is a hidden datapad with another map on it, follow that map to another hidden location in the obscure secret passages of the Imperial Palace, take an elevator hidden there to a particular foyer on the 43rd floor of the Imperial Palace, and take a tunnel shuttle from there.

A very, very obscure plan, but, well, what he'd seen so far, the caution was understandable. Isard was too busy to do this herself, and couldn't afford to go missing for a few hours, so it was delegated to him. No one else but him and Isard herself knew of her clone, or the tanks he'd just destroyed.

And as the tunnel shuttle silently made its way to it's destination, he realised something. That Isard would reveal all of this to him could only mean one thing; her intended lifespan for him had likely just become dramatically shorter, and as the tunnel shuttle arrived with a bing, he realized just how short that was likely to be. There was no mistaking the huge hangar that the shuttle had deposited him in; a ship's hanger, too large for an Imperial Star Destroyer. Isard... Isard somehow had a Super Star Destroyer hidden on Coruscant. Or the Emperor had, and Isard had learned of it.

He left the clone in the hanger and set off at a quick jog towards the hanger's elevators; he needed to check if this thing could fly. It took him a while, but he found the bridge. Silent and empty. Hands flickered over screens as he woke the systems up. Automatic launch sequence plus programmable hyperdrive coordinates. One person could fly this thing alone. He sighed in relief. Time for some... Modification. Adding a password didn't take long, and he was a far better slicer than Isard would ever be. She'd never get through this.

With a smile and an ace in the hole, Devian left the bridge and then the Lusyanka as a whole, taking the tunnel shuttle back to the surface. If he wanted a way off Coruscant, well, he had one. And knowing Isard, he'd need it within...

He stopped at the exit of the foyer to think.

A week at the earliest. Isard would be careful to ensure his demise was all but certain.

[Zepplien]

Imperial Star Destroyer Lancet, Greater Maldrood
"No, no, of course. Harrsk is nothing but an underhanded traitor... You heard what he did to Byss?" Grand Moff Tavira sat across from her companion at the dining table, the Grand Admiral Kosh Teradoc, feeding him the honey words she always would. She took a sip of her drink, smiling in her typical bashful way as she continued her act for Kosh. "I mean the loss isn't even really your own when you think about it. If Treuten had just sent in a few ships to help you out, put them under your command because I don't think he could beat Harrsk himself, and you could have easily driven back that traitorous slime of an Admiral." she could see the hint of a smile on the man's face, just the twitch in the comer. She let her hand 'accidentally' brush against his, reaching for a simple roll of bread of course. "Was a... Miscalculation, to allow Harrsk to take the Deep Core territories." Kosh said slowly, seeming to mull over his words as he did. "Forgive me for speaking so freely, but I think your brother is foolish. If we just seclude ourselves within the Mid Rim we will just get squashed between larger powers..." she more openly put her hand to brush against his "Of course if you were in command of the Greater Maldrood we could end that slime Harrsk once and for all." she could see the quiet contemplation on his face, worry in hints but certainly the seed of an idea was well planted. Then, just as planned "Grand Moff Tavira, your presence is requested on the Invidious." her comlink chimed. She stood, smiling sweetly at Kosh "Duty calls, I can't spend all day eating now. It was good food, better conversation. I hope you invite me again." "I look forward to it." he took her hand, offering it a kiss in the style of the gentry that she so contemplated in her youth.

Imperial Victory Class Star Destroyer 13X
Admiral Tavira adjusted her vibroblade that rested on her hip, her pips being swapped out from Grand Moff to Admiral just as she had adjusted her costume. She was not like the Grand Moff who was under house arrest no, she was a loyal Admiral under the command of Treuten Teradoc. "I mean no offense to your brother, but he isn't even grateful to you for saving his life when Harrsk turned his ire upon the kid." sure Kosh was many years her senior, and was only one year Treuten's junior, but the fact he was the younger brother always gave great glee to Treuten for reasons that escaped many. "I mean, don't tell him that I told you about this... But I overheard that he was thinking about trying to take over the Maldrood so that he can begin another reckless war against Harrsk." she could see the anger brimming within him, his kid brother trying to take his throne was too much for the mighty High Admiral Teradoc. She soothed him, a hand on his arm "I see an opportunity here... we use this as a test of loyalty. See who is willing to inform you of these plans of his..." she took a moment to straighten her uniform "I know where my loyalty stands, you have given me nothing but kindness. You have even given me a flagship worthy of an Admiral." she bowed her head slightly, the smallest signs of submission to 'rightful authority' just as the High Admiral would want. "Together we will make sure your brother doesn't do anything foolish" playing on his brotherly love for just a moment ", and shall insure the Maldrood against all enemies, from within and without."

[Elerian]

The State of Things
Sate Pestage, Coruscant

An entire year had come and gone already. It had only been one year, but it felt like ten and that certainly showed on Sate’s wrinkled features. In that short time much had changed; the Galaxy had been remodeled by the splintering of the Empire into factionalism. A year ago, the death knell of the Empire as Sate knew it had sounded over Endor. Now, the Rebellion was encroaching more and more on Imperial territory with each passing day. And yet, the Empire endured, if divided by petty tribalism and blind lust for power. And at the center of all this was poor Sate Pestage, perhaps the last sane man in the whole of the Galaxy.

It was up to Pestage to piece back together what remained of the Empire, and try to restore it to the former glory that Palpatine had achieved. Unfortunately for him though, he had many powerful enemies within and outside the Empire. Warlords, Rebels, and all manner of other unsavory characters had Pestage within their sights, and should he falter they would tear him asunder. One such unsavory character had just hailed him to speak with him personally.

A crude hologram of Rufaan Tigellinus appeared on the projector before him.

“To what do I owe this distinct pleasure, Grand Admiral Tigellinus?” inquired without a hint of disdain in his voice.

On the Hunt
Vess Kogo, Coruscant

The day was slowly losing to night, a thought Kogo had comparing this occurrence to the struggles between the Rebellion and the Imperial Remnant; light versus dark, while he roamed the marketplace in pursuit of his mark. The events at Endor and the instability in the galaxy gave just enough of a push for Kogo to get out and think, act, and if the offer presented itself, kill. He was unsure about his new boss, or those that he surrounded himself with, but they were all he had left to follow.

While he haunted the marketplace, scanning the back alleys of the Imperial Center, he found several secondary targets that could be worthy of a prompt trial and execution; problem was Pestage would be furious if he deviated from his task. Crouching down next to an old beggar he asked, "have you seen this man?" before producing a hologram of his mark to show the beggar. The old man’s eyes grew wide and he began mumbling something about a nearby complex. As he turned to leave, Kogo noticed festering wounds green in color covering the man's uncovered legs. Killing him would have been merciful, sparing him the agonizing dance with death. However, mercy was no longer in his heart, and he now believed showing anyone mercy was a stout sign of weakness. And with his mark near in sight, he may very well get the kill he craved. He left the man to his fate, heading in the general direction of the complex.

Loyalty
Erv Lekauf, Odik

Erv Lekauf sat with his back to the wall of a Lambda shuttle. His gloved hand went reflexively to his deeply scarred face, and he massaged it slowly, thumbs digging into the scar tissue. He could feel the maze of scar tissue itching through his thin gloves, rubbing against his hands through the black fabric. The aging officer let his head fall back against the rough metal of the bulkhead.

The voyage had been hard. They had made good time through the hyperlanes that led into Sector 5, but “good time” was still painfully slow compared to regular voyages. But he had made it nonetheless, a miracle in itself. For years he had been embarrassed by his disfigurement and had spent a great deal of money to try and hide it, but in the end he’d accepted who he was now. In many ways it even helped with his new occupation. Where once he’d served Lord Vader as his personal aide, now Erv served the new administration in whatever capacity they required of him. In this case it meant a discrete meeting with an Imperial Warlord in the Deep Core.

The shuttle touched down just then, bonking Erv’s head against the bulkhead as they made another happy landing. Erv stood and rubbed the back of his head. As the shuttle door lowered, Erv smoothed out his uniform and pulled his gloves tighter over his hands. With the door lowered, Erv stepped from the shuttle ready to do what he could to bring Grand Moff Cinzero Gann back into the Empire.

[Austria and Bavaria]

Grand Admiral Rufaan Tigellinus, The Bridge of the Star Destroyer Avatar, in orbit over Coruscant

Grand Admiral Tigellinus smiled warmly "Ah, a pleasure to speak with you my Lord. I am merely arriving so that I can take up my seat on the Ruling Council, as there are a number of things that have attracted my attention. I'll be coming down shortly, and I was wondering if you might care to meet before the council meeting. I trust we have many topics of... mutual interest."

[Elerian]

"Ah, a pleasure to speak with you my Lord. I am merely arriving so that I can take up my seat on the Ruling Council, as there are a number of things that have attracted my attention. I'll be coming down shortly, and I was wondering if you might care to meet before the council meeting. I trust we have many topics of... mutual interest."

The State of Things
Sate Pestage, Coruscant

A short while later . . .

What once had been the heart of the Jedi Order was now what could only be described as a palace, one of sickly grandeur filled with odd and abstract Imperial Iconography. Akin to the most lavish temples and palaces of the Ancient Sith, yet with its own strange style cultivated by the late Darth Sidious. Segmented marble pillars spiraled into the ceiling gilded with exotic metals only the wealth of the empire could afford. Chronicled across the walls of the Palace’s inner sanctum were near endless depictions of the immortal struggle between the Sith and Jedi, the infinite trials and tribulations of the damned, and glorious battles the names of which have long been lost to time. Keen eyes would detect that there was more to these depictions than met the eye, under vigilant eyes the figures moved with a life of their own. Doomed to endlessly relive their greatest triumphs and hardships.

Describing the experience of navigating the halls, for the first time, as unnerving would have been a gross understatement. The Grand Admiral may have even felt a twinge of dark foreboding, a lingering side effect of Palpatine's extended tenancy. An old servant of Palpatine's, and now for all intents and purposes Pestage's, led Tigellinus to a nondescript meeting room within the inner sanctum of the Palace. Once situated, perhaps the two most powerful men in what little remained of the Galactic Empire sat a short distance across the table from one another.

Pestage regarded the man before him with a mix of curiosity and excitement, “Grand Admiral, what was it that you wanted discussed?”

[The Frozen Forest]

Kentor Sarne
Kal'Shabbol

"....We Shall not give up the struggle! Our struggle against the tyranny of the Rebel Terrorists which have illegally poisoned the Galaxy with their Corporations! Their Corruption! Their Brutal Racism towards Humans, allowing the lives of trillions to be governed by the interest of a few selfish old men! Our People, the people of Kal'Shabbol will never surrender, we will fight on until the struggle is won and our people have order and peace!" The speech had gone on for several long hours, televised to the screens of millions of homes throughout the Planet. It was becoming more and more common, speeches and rallies to prepare the citizenry for the fact that their homeworld might be besieged in their lifetime. It was the same rhetoric everytime, denouncing the Rebels and empowering the people of Kal'Shabbol and Sarne himself. It had taken some time but he had managed to win their hearts and minds. A personality cult had been established around none other than him, with Youth organizations and sporadic tributes to Sarne being just as common as the speeches and rallies were.

Sarne made his way away rom the podium, waving at the camera's and putting on a strong face to inspire his troops. As he spoke the Navy was preparing itself to leave for the nearby Pergitor System. They were a chief exporter of Minerals and considering his society produced few luxury goods it was in his best interest to simply seize the planet and take over the mining for himself. The Church of Infinite Perception had made quite a number of enemies on Pergitor, mainly due to it's hatred for liberal idea's and killing of those found with so called paranormal abilities. He'd already accepted a few refugee's who were able to escape the planet alive, and it was through this that he was able to learn of the conditions faced by those on Pergitor. He would be bringing along a majority of his Navy along with the entirely of his Stormtrooper Corps. They were his shining gem, his proudest accomplishment thus far. He'd taken a unit of about 5,000 Imperial Stormtroopers and made one of the most zealous fighting forces the Empire had ever seen. That was his opinion anyways. He'd grown the corps immensely, bringing those 5,000 up to around 300,000. They appeared normal on the outside, apart from having his personal seal painted on their helmets. His forces were recruited from the already influenced population of Kal'Shabbol, they were trained more harshly and longer than even the Imperials had done to their soldiers. They were taught to worship Sarne and to root out dissent anywhere, even in Sarne's own officers.

Sure, the purges conducted by his Stormtroopers caused some instability in his ranks. It favored Loyal men over Experienced or Talented men, and of course it was expensive to run such strenuous training regimes. No one could deny that it had crushed opposition in the system however, that it had done it's work and that it would be a force for as long as Sarne was alive. The majority of those Stormtroopers would be making their way to the planet of Pergitor alongside the Fleet, they would need to expand or they would be a prime target for the Republic. He didn't expect Pergitor to have a sizable navy, if it had any navy at all. He did expect there to be Planetary Shield, but nothing he couldn't blast through with his Star Destroyers. The only thing that worried him was his young son, Maldev. He was in the care of his most trusted, the most loyal Stormtroopers and Nannies in the entirety of his realm. Men with more to lose than they could afford and near-foolish admiration for him, their Moff. The Child was his heir and he was determined not to leave him an Orphan. Not that he wasn't the most guarded secret of the State, he had his paranoia.

[Jhet]

Eriadu Authority
Eriadu System, Eriadu Sector

To his accomplished eye, Eriadu was no poor substitute for the Imperial Center. It was not a paradise world of the Core, left untouched for the elites to frolic in without worry or hardship, but there was a certain air of respectability about the place. For the former admiral, it was an aura that he could only remember being present in systems under the personal patronage of the Emperor. The reason for such a jewel so far from the central economic powerhouses of the Empire was solely with the Tarkins. They, and only they, had had the wealth and power to not just attempt to impersonate the grandeur of the galaxy's accepted capital world but to do such a job as to fool even a high ranking officer.

I will make it even grander, he grunted to himself. There was little else that he could do.

"Superior General," a man called, his smile larger than the Authority itself, and only half as genuine. He strode towards the imperial warlord with as much arrogant confidence a ruling noble of Eriadu could muster, dragging his daughters along in tow. "Superior General, have you considered my proposal?"

"We have given it much thought," Delvardus answered diplomatically, noticing the shift of the man's posture. Another one of them, he near snorted. Businessmen were all the same, pretending to have some sort of wise intelligence when all they were, all they had, was a child's limited grasp of what they even wanted.

Here he was, in the heart of the Tarkin estate, in the heart of Eriadu - both planet and political entity - and he could only feel repulsion at everything around him. They were happy with what they had, like rats turned fat from a whole winter in the larder. Sander had been their summer, offering a boundless field of golden wheat, and they refused to move at all. He had played on their selfish nature for their support, and now they offered him only gates chained shut against his ambition.

"And what has your instincts told you of it?" the man continued breezily. "When can we expect to see our interests properly brought together in the matter of Elrood?"

Delvardus threw a look to General Veers. The general, resplendent in his new steel grey uniform, had been vocal in his opposition to the admiral's new styling. And to his new paymaster's plan for the Core Worlds. However if Veers was the informant he offered up no tells, presenting on a mask of Imperial discipline. No, Sander decided at last, he is no rat. The man had not simply served Lord Vader, he had been rewarded greatly by the Dark Lord. Such patronage did not create a weasel, no matter how insufferable he was as a man. For all the notoriety that the Emperor's enforcer generated, those under his command rose on merit, or died from their incompetence.

No, the leak would be someone on his ship. Valorum was sure to know as well, though Sander had noticed his absence from the day's festivities. You couldn't force two economic powerhouses to finance and arm your fleet without them planting their own security measures and spies. Time was all he needed. Time to win back enough of the Rim. Time to win the loyalty of his men. And when his crew wanted to die for him, then Eriadu would long for the day they conquered Coruscant.

"The Elrood Sector is a matter I have not decided a final solution upon," he admitted, noticing Veers' expression change. "Though I am in agreement that the trade lanes must remain solely under the Authority's protections. Therefore you will be my envoy to the Elrood system. Impress upon the powers there that they will be better off as part of the Eriadu Authority."

"Excellent decision, excellent in deed, " the man answered, suddenly bored now that he had managed to win himself a potential rung on the ladder of advancement, "Have you met my daughter Ezekev yet?"

Before the warlord could answer Fraz was pushing one of his daughters before him. She was a short thing, barely able to strain her neck to meet his gaze. Her dress, flowing from lilac to turquoise to powdered blue like ocean waves, had obviously been fitted for the occasion. Without missing a beat, she offered him her hand. He felt himself tensing at the gesture, his mind racing to understand the memory she had rekindled in his mind. He placed a kiss on the young woman's hand.

"Why you are taller than the vids, Superior General."

Her dress was now a jumpsuit, half undone. Her hair, once long and curled...

"Modesty must be impressed on the people," he answered, hearing his voice through a pane of glass. The memory of his beloved had struck him harder than he first thought. Allowing a moment of silence, his eyes moved from daughter to father and back.

"Admiral?" Veers asked, pressing himself between his commander and the girl. "A communique from the Resolution.
All ships are in position."

Sanders nodded, allowing the general to whisper the news into his ear. His mouth broke out into a wide grin. "It was a pleasure to finally greet you," he told Ezekev after a moment, taking her hand in both of his. "Once I return, we must agree to meet again." He offered a glance at the girl's father before turning on his heel. "Signal the Brilliant to prepare for my return. It is time that we put the rebellion in its place."

Cmaoli Di System, Brema Sector

The world itself was insignificant, as was the system if not for its unfortunate location astride the Hydian Way. Had the planet not enjoyed the riches of an imperial tradeway, then Delvardus would have had no interest in the rebels. Alas for those scum, the Superior General had a deep desire to see them shattered.

"I want our fighter wings deployed as soon as we are out of hyperspace," Sander informed his command crew, acknowledging the unnecessarily sharp tone of his voice with a frown. His men knew what was expected of them, what was needed of them. They were good enough to know standard procedure.

With a rush of sudden focus, the Cmaoli Di system came into being. Three planets span their lazy loops around a star glowing like the wrath of a god, small and insignificant even when compared to its neighbours. And approaching them, like sharks taken the scent of blood, were the dagger silhouettes of seven Imperial Star Destroyers.

"Sir?" an officer almost whispered, looking up at his grinning commander. "The fleet is deployed."

Brilliant took the lead towards the only world with a population worthy of the term, flanked by the war veterans Resolution, Impeachable Savior, and Wrathful Lance to her left while Fist of Kings, Elusive Might, and Vengeance Forgone followed on her right. Behind the warships came three dozen Carrack cruisers, augmented with an equal number of Nebulon-B frigates. It was a mighty show of force, far in excess of what his captains believed necessary. However, Sander had witnessed firsthand how such naked displays of power did to the masses. They would be cowed, and offer up their traitorous leadership in a desperate bid for a restoration of Imperial authority.

"Dispatch the message," he turned his eyes to the sensors, only now beginning to take in data as the ship recovered from the hyperjump. "And I want firing resolutions on anything we will need to immobilise."

The young officer, fresh from the academy on Eriadu itself, jumped to his task. He looked young, perhaps too young to have found a place onboard the General's flagship, but the decision had been made with the best of intentions. If he were to make Eriadu a safe and prosperous capital for a domain of Imperial loyalists, he would need a fleet crewed by men whose entire lives were dedicated to the cause. He knew few methods better than to induct the young into positions where they would learn the greatest amount of experience without compromising the effectiveness of the fighting formation as a whole.

The Superior General's strike force further spread out across the system like some vast spacefaring bird. Watching a screen as his Star Destroyers drifted apart to form a firing line, their fighter contingents forming clouds of metal hornets about their hulls, Delvardus accepted that his captains were right that he had not needed such a vast amassing of his power. Alas, the order had been given.

Waiting for the rebel's response to his demand for an unconditional surrender to his forces, Sander watched as Wrathful Lance, screened by eight frigates and as many cruisers, set course for one of Cmaoli Di's satellites ahead of the rest of the fleet. It was a bid to draw out whatever defense craft the rebels had managed to retain from the former Imperial garrison. A bid that was so obvious that no one in their right mind would fall for it.

But the rebel scum were not known for their intelligence.

Five cruisers rose to meet the Lance and her escort, Brilliant's sensors telling the General that those were the sum of the system's defenses.

You know you can't make a fight of it, he wanted to shout into the comm array. Give me the answer I want.

As the minutes counted down, however, the rebels refused to give him any response. For one brief, insane moment, Sander almost thought that the system's defense ships were making to ram the Wrathful Lance. No, he heard his mind snap at him as he read the sensor data again. Even if they wanted to, it would be beyond futile. Already his six Star Destroyers were nearing weapons range with the rebels, with the Lance drawing them further and further away from any protection their world could offer.

Eventually, after waiting for more than twice any other commander would have wasted, Sander acknowledged that the decision had been made: the rebels would fight it out.

"Destroy them," he declared, failing to hide his disappointment.

The butchery lasted a heartbeat compared to the dance that preceded it, the cruisers swarmed and torn apart like wounded lambs before a pack of jackals. And after them, Cmaoli Di shortly followed suit.

Knel'char System, Grumani Sector

The Thalassa led six of its fellow Authority capital ships through hyperspace into the envelope of the Darkknell system. Sabre, Forlorn Respite, and Illumination took to her left, Bruiser, Utopian, and Gorgon her right. In escort they had amassed the same strength as Sander's own formation, though a half dozen of the old Munificent frigates were also attached to ensure that the Thalassa remained protected at all times.

They pointed themselves towards the only attraction worth the Imperial's time: the terrestrial world of Darkknell.

Darkknell was a lucrative world, with easy access to great fuel deposits even after centuries of heavy mining as well as enjoying the fruits of being one of the key stopping points along the Hydian Way. Because of this, the Authority, and its financial backers in main, desired it immensely. So it was with hesitation that Sanders authorized the deployment of his pet treasure: the Praetor Battlecruiser Thalassa. With its mighty presence, the system was sure to rethink its abrupt uprising against Imperial authority.

If not, then the world would burn.

[Austria and Bavaria]

Grand Admiral Rufaan Tigellinus, the Imperial Palace, Coruscant

The Grand Admiral entered the room, and gave a short but courteous bow."Lord Pestage, a pleasure to be able to meet with you. You see, I've heard rather troubling rumours of some... unsavoury additions made to the council at the request of Director Isard, and I simply needed to hear it for myself. Is it true that Flirry Vorru, a man with known connections to the Black Sun Crime Syndicate, has been placed on the Ruling Council?" Tigellinus' voice started out polite and couritious, but became increasingly disdainful and interagotary as he continued speaking. "Because such a thing would be very troubling, very troubling indeed." He said, his voice softening again.

[Sil Arion]

39.03.31.0909
Grand Admiral Miltin Takel
Assertor-class Star Dreadnought Assertor
Chazwa, Chazwa System, Orus Sector, Inner Rim

---

"Aye, aye, sir," he replies proudly, scarred lips opening in a show of too-white teeth, "It will be done." A blink of my eyes, and his hologram is gone. With it, the presence of my beloved subordinate. Commander Mayne. Bless his ruthless soul. He seemed nearly as pleased as I.

At long last, the time has come. My homecoming. And a reveal to the greater galaxy. I smile thinly as a shudder of thrill curls up my spine, in no small part from the spice that still runs hot and cold in my veins. The afterglow of glitterstim. A blissful feeling in itself. But with imagining the reactions at the onrushing revelation of my revenge? Euphoric.

Oh, Josef. How I've anticipated this. You shouldn't have done it. Even if I'd been watching. Waiting. You played into my hand so well. So wonderfully.

I suppress a smile as I turn to the swaying starscape, hands clasped behind my back. Magnificent, as always. Within the holographic screens that forms the suite's walls sits a favorite view of mine: the vast void of space above my homeworld, Gargon alight with color as stars shine and nebulae glow as rainbows. Ever so vibrant. Never so alive. If only. If only it was still mine.

Well. Doesn't matter. 'Twas all part of the plan. And it will returned to me soon. So. Very. Soon.

I reach to my right, grasping the wineglass suddenly held there in the manicured fingers of a red hand. "Asha, bless your sweet soul," I carress her face lightly, whispering lowly, "Thank you." She curtsies, coy smile at odds with her smoldering eyes as she steps away. A tantalizing gaze, to be sure. And view. But later. Playtime could wait. Must wait. Business before pleasure; priorities first. Though, what do when the business itself is so pleasing? What to do, what to do?

Raising it to my face, I swirl the contents while studying my reflection on its surface. This smell - delightful. The plays of color within spiraling crystal - beautiful. Soft golden light of my lamps refracts within synthetic diamond, spun in a manner reminiscent of a singularity swallowing a star. I drink. Taste-testing with my tongue. Letting the implants in my molars play their part sense for less-savory things in the Alderaanian Royal Red.

Oh? Water of Truth this time? I'll have to reward her for that. She always did love this little game of ours, the clever girl.

I stare at the glass again. An admirable specimen. And a lovely work of art, testament to its commissioner and previous owner. Xizor had such fine tastes. Much like mine. So dark, but so bright too. Dramatic. Dynamic. Mm. Rather like what is to unfold. His downfall. My masterpiece.

A marvelous thought unfurls in my mind. A beautiful one. A vision of violent death. Images of incredible destruction. Glory and honor gained in greatest triumph, one borne all the bettered by treachery and a betrayal so suited to the occasion. Felicitous retribution so close. I can taste it, almost. So sweet and true and alluring; the purest spiced wine at my lips, the warmest flame in my belly.

Oh, how I've waited. The fate of my enemy approaches. The man I hate more than any other. What I've prepared for years. Precious vines I secretly nourished in another's vineyard without their awareness, ones that bore such splendid fruit. Splendidly ripe and poisonous fruit I'll happily pick and turn into wine now without the Emperor's interference. Make and drink. Make and drink. All for myself and my dear subordinates.

It begins in my gut. A dark fire I can't swallow down. One I don't resist. At first, a snicker. Then chuckle. Finally, a full-blown laughter, lifted up from my belly as I shake with mirth. It echoes, blackest laughter ringing in my ears.

I'm no fool. Normally, at least. I play the part, but only because it's fitting. What is theater without comedy to allay tragedy? Life without laughter to relieve pain? I know my own madness. This hedonistic hysteria and absurd ideal of mine. And as I am now . . .

Well. I embrace it all the more. Why shouldn't I?

I stride out, eyes aflame, hushed murmurs washing through the room from my companions. I can feel them, their emotions emerging from under the surface; seeds springing from the earth. Such wonder. It bursts in my mind's eye, a titanic forest of flowering trees in a thousand shades of luminous color. The deep roots of their trust and devotion. The high blooms of their hope and anticipation. Adoring admiration. Ecstatic elation. Loyalty. Love. I bask in it. I bathe in it. Soak it in. Make it my own. Savor and revel in this reminder of who I am, and why.

I enter the command bridge, companions trailing behind me in a fashionable train.

"Attention on deck!" calls my first officer, Captain Seymour, meeting me with a knowing smile, "We're in position, sir."

"Very well then," I respond, seating myself in the opulent command throne carved from my homeworld's bones, "Let's be about it."

"Aye, aye, sir!" He turns, hand at his headset as he announces, "All hands, battle stations!"

It hits like a wave. A surge of power in feeling. The same as before, but so. Much. More. A flurry of activity erupts on the bridge, hands flowing across controls and displays with the awesome efficiency I have come to expect from such elite troops as these.

They are my mythical few, my loyal followers, nearly twenty years now spent training and in battle making brothers and sisters of us all – and even more years for those who rose with me through the Clone War. My chosen children, these champions of the Empire, gene-engineered and womb-born alike. Human or alien, male or female, nationality or religion, I care not! They are my right to rule. Their trust in themselves, in me and our Empire; that bond of belief and faith we all share in each other! The same standard of competence, commitment and character we all hold dear, the values and aims I instilled in each and every one! The reason I serve this government and New Order as I do. My greatest strength found in them. In their stories. Their beautiful stories. It is for them I am as the Steel Blade I command.

For what is a story with only one character worth? Nothing. That's what. It's worthy nothing, for it'd be without beauty.

But this. It. Is. Beautiful.

How we've waited for weeks now since rallying after the folly of Endor. Weeks spent reforming the Third Army, retraining and refitting in preparation for this moment, and anything I else I want. Now, that time had arrived. Finally, its existence no longer needed to be so secret. A terrible reality given to the ghosts whispered about by rebels and traitors before even the fiasco of Yavin three years past. Confirming their fears oh-so-gloriously.

To say I anticipated this, the level of sheer thrill – words are not enough! How I yearned for this day! Now I burn for it. It is with that conviction I speak, pressing two buttons.

"Proceed with the countdown," I address the fleet, watching as the timer now runs, "All units, prepare to jump into hyperspace at my signal." A series of light taps as I compose what I wish. Another tap and its sent at the last second, my signal appearing on every screen across the fleet in all its solemn dignity.

The Empire expects that every person will do their duty.

Then the stars spin. And away we go.

[Gorbatov]

Pentastar Alignment
Grand Moff Ardus Kaine, Super Star Destroyer Reaper, Bastion

---

Grand Moff Ardus Kaine is overlooking the star-charts, contemplating a possible strategy that would benefit him and the Alignment. He pondered on whether the Alignment should be isolationist or whether to expand and strengthen his power base. Yet he was reminded of the fact of the ever-growing threat of the so-called 'New' Republic, and the fact that the lack of cohesion in the Imperial Remnant was going to result in the New Republic easily subjugating systems to their cause. In which he noticed the small faction in the Opolovis Sector.

He called over a nearby Insurrection officer, "Yes, Grand Moff?"

"Get me the dossier for the Oplovis Sector."

"Will do, Grand Moff Kaine."

After several minutes, the officer comes back with a datapad and hands it to the Grand Moff, "Grand Moff, here is the dossier you have requested."

"Good," replied Kaine, as he begun to scan through the dossier.

Pentastar Alignment
Order-Insurrection

---

Intelligence Dossier: Oplovis Sector
Security Level: OF-6+

Code: Select all

Classification: Minor Imperial Warlord Faction
Head of State: Gaen Drommel, Admiral
Fortress Worlds: Ketaris
Military Power:
1x Executor-Class Star Destroyer, Guardian
3x Imperial-II-Class Star Destroyers


Now knowing the information provided by the dossier, Kaine pondered on the opportunity of having another Executor-Class Super Star Destroyer, knowing that it would greatly increase his power base, and he knew he had to act fast. He called over the nearby communications officer, "Yes, Grand Moff?"

"Open a channel to Grand Admiral Octavian Grant immediately," asserted Kaine as he knew time was of the essence. The communications officer quickly relays the message of the Grand Moff, and a hologram of Grand Admiral appeared on the communications console.

"Grand Admiral Grant."

Octavian Grant, a Tapani Noble turned Imperial Grand Admiral. For the most part, Kaine saw him as an arrogant but loyal servant to the Alignment. "Grand Moff Kaine, what seems to reason of your broadcast?", inquired Grant.

"Well, Grand Admiral Grant, I called you to inform your new orders."

"What is it then?"

"Your orders are to stay in standby on the planet of Fedje with three other Star Destroyers, and await further orders from their."

"Very well."

Kaine then ended the communications with Grant and begun to walk towards the command walkway of the bridge. Kaine's first officer approaches the Grand Moff, "Any new orders, Grand Moff?"

"Prepare the remainder of the fleet for hyperspace to Ketaris, and once out of hyperspace, hold fire, till my command."

"Will do."

After several minutes, "Grand Moff, the fleet is ready to jump."

"Good, proceed immediately," said Kaine.

It is time to make the stars align, Kaine thought to himself as the Reaper enters hyperspace; as he knew that the Empire's only hope of survival is with him and the Pentastar Alignment.

[Elerian]

The Grand Admiral entered the room, and gave a short but courteous bow."Lord Pestage, a pleasure to be able to meet with you. You see, I've heard rather troubling rumours of some... unsavoury additions made to the council at the request of Director Isard, and I simply needed to hear it for myself. Is it true that Flirry Vorru, a man with known connections to the Black Sun Crime Syndicate, has been placed on the Ruling Council?" Tigellinus' voice started out polite and couritious, but became increasingly disdainful and interagotary as he continued speaking. "Because such a thing would be very troubling, very troubling indeed." He said, his voice softening again.

The State of Things
Sate Pestage, Coruscant

A thin, pained, smile crossed Pestage' wrinkled features. Underneath the floppy hat atop the Regent's head, a neurons were firing. If this is where the Grand Admiral was swinging the conversation, there was no real way for him to save face. It was obvious his position was weak, but he wasn't sure how much the Grand Admiral knew of Pestage' predicament. "You see, Isard has proven to be a great obstacle to the continued stability of the Empire. An obstacle that has proven difficult to dislodge." Pestage paused for a brief moment, as if he'd said too much. "I was quite pleased to learn that you were coming to the Imperial Center, I had thought perhaps we could find common ground on this issue" he continued, placing great emphasis on the word issue.

"I'm sure there is much more worth discussing, but I'm sure you're weary from your journey here. Perhaps it would be best if we resumed our discussion after the Council meeting has concluded" Pestage suggested. It was true that Pestage had much to do before the Council met, and he was sure that the same was true for the Grand Admiral.