“Too much time has past. We have neglected our duties for too long. Go, and redeem us in the eyes of our people.”

“It will be done.”





Reaver Space, hours later


Vice Admiral Gorn stood on the bridge of his Mon Calamari Star Cruiser, surveying the world he had once been forced to retreat from. They called him a “hero” for his “successful” defense of the Ryn Fleet as it fled the Reaver incursion; they called him a “hero” because only millions had died here. They called him a “hero” because all of the lives with which he had been entrusted were not lost. They gave him medals, they gave him promotions, they gave him new subordinates and new responsibilities. They called him a hero.

He knew better. “Raise the fleet.” The comm officer nodded in acknowledgment, signaling the channel was open. “Members of the fleet, defenders of the innocent; this is your commander. We have been here before, we have lost here before. We have learned here before. The Articles of Cooperation say the beings down on that world are Cooperative Citizens; the Articles of Cooperation say that we must defend them. So here we are; late, perhaps, but here.

“This will be the first victory in the war against the Reavers. This will be the day when the first of this galaxy's free people stand and do not fall, fight and do not lose, give oath and do not disappoint. The stage is set, the places are assigned. In the name of justice, go forth, and make all men free.”

As the transmission died and the Cooperative fleet began diverging, Admiral Gorn glanced at his resident Drackmarian officer, the two sharing a brief moment of mutual respect. “Switch the transponder,” He ordered. All across the fleet, and in the eyes of those Reavers in-system (if the Reavers bothered noting such things) the flag ship of the Maridun Fleet switched from the MC90 Star Cruiser Heroic Defender to the MC90 Star Cruiser Penance, the Mon Calamari vice admiral borrowing a rite from the Drackmarian Way, renaming his former captaincy at the onset of her first engagement as his flagship.

The battle plan was simple and straightforward. Cooperative forces had tagged and mapped the feeding patterns of most Reaver ships in this sector, had chosen a date and time when Reaver ships would be worst positioned for rapid response. As it stood, only a few dozen enemy vessels were in-system, spread out above the only inhabited world. They were swept away with ease, obliterated in apparent disregard to standing Cooperative procedures.

But soon other ships began arriving, choosing vectors that brought them against the outskirts of the rapidly-disassociating Cooperative fleet. The planet below was half enveloped in the Cooperative fleet, tiny formations huddled together at fairly regular intervals, advancing orderly upon the other half of the world. They engaged the newly arriving Reavers, but only to the degree that was necessary to maintain the formation, to expedite the envelopment of Maridun.

But still the Reavers came, and as their losses mounted, their hunger grew. Their need to expand, to grow increased. It demanded―compelled them to the surface, to the billions of defenseless souls below. The Cooperative forces were powerless to stop them, their only option to launch a wave of ground assault forces, to envelop the surface as they were the space above.

But still the Reavers came.

And then the net closed, and the Cooperative's purpose was made clear. The Testudo-class Orbital Defense Shield flashed to life, overlapping layers of protective energy covering the whole world in a single instant, the Cooperative fleet holding position just below it.

But still, relentless, mindless, the Reavers came.

They smashed into the shield with a reckless abandon, many of their smaller vessels exploding as the sheer energy of the Testudo overwhelmed their inadequately shielded systems. Still others plummeted in free-fall, systems crippled but their inhabitants still alive. And there were those that passed mostly intact, able to force a landing under some measure of power. More than the Cooperative tacticians would have thought possible disgorged Reavers upon the surface, rushing for the most obvious signs of life, losing themselves to their hunger, their need to grow in the face of this threat.

Wherever possible, fire rained down from the sky, obliterating Reaver vessels and the surrounding areas. But most Reavers landed within remaining population zones, shielded―whether by intent or happenstance―by the innocents the Cooperative was here to protect.

It was in such places as this that the warriors of the Cooperative made of themselves a living bulwark. It was in such places as this that friends became foes, touched by the unholy Reaver plague.

“Grenade!” Someone shouted down the line, the majority of the Cooperative soldiers ducking for cover. But Commander Goruk and his Raptors held their ground, firing intently into the coming Reaver horde. The Drackmarian detachment had already accepted their eventual fate, already recognized this as the primary Reaver landing ground. While the humans, Amani, Squibs, Xi Charrians, Ryn, and even Shard battled for their lives and the hopes of returning home, the Drackmarians fought for a more conservative―a more believable―goal: the cleansing of Maridun from the Reaver Virus.

They fought for a long time; retreats, counterattacks, reinforcements, lost and regained flanks, air strikes from navy starfighters, a breach in the line that saw friends turn blasters upon friends as the Reaver Virus gripped them in its inexorable will.

And still the Reavers came.

And still the Cooperative fought.

Until finally, finally the word rang out. “They're retreating! The Reavers are retreating!”

Cheers erupted everywhere, shouts of glee as confirmation spread that the Cooperative had won the day, that once again the Overseer had been correct.

But the Drackmarian Raptors did not cheer. Commander Goruk's eyes fell from those Reavers still alive to the bodies piled all around him, his breaths coming only with great strains. He stumbled backwards, blood seeping from the gash in his armor. He could feel it; he could feel his death coming to claim him.

It wasn't over. He fell to the ground, eyes blurring, limbs going numb. But he managed to withdraw the Drackmarian commlink from its place on his belt, turning it to the proper channel.

The world had gone dark, now. The pain of his wound and the numbness of his limbs replaced by a cold emptiness. He was fading, fading into nothing. “Purge,” he whispered, and then was gone.





In the skies above, the warships of the United Cooperative of Peoples watched on helplessly.

“By the gods . . .”

Before he could ask, the main viewscreen was replaced with the magnified image of the massive ground explosion that was incinerating ten thousand Cooperative soldiers. Rear Admiral Gorn was transfixed by the image, his mind trying to reconcile the almost graceful movement of the blast cloud with the reality of what it signified.

The tactical officer tried to offer some explanation: “The Reavers must have―”

“No,” Captain Rakkis cut off the junior officer as she moved to the admiral's side. “We did this.” And there was no question as to which “we” the Drackmarian was referring.

The Mon Calmamari admiral nodded, his flippered hands grasping the guard rail tightly. “Report to the brig.”

The Drackmarian huffed loudly, her head waving from side to side. “We knew the risk of Reaver infection; obviously Ground Command―”

“I will shoot you,” Gorn said flatly, “and drag your body to the brig. Do not ever again mistake what you see in my eyes for weakness.” The dwarfed Mon Calamari stood now with his hand on his holster, staring into the reptilian captain's eyes. “Do the right thing, or I will.”

Captain Rakkis turned about abruptly, her tail curling to the side just shy of hitting the admiral. As she stormed from the bridge, the pair of Cooperative guards broke from their posts on either side of the door and took up positions behind her, their hands closing tightly on their blasters.

“Admiral, the Reavers have withdrawn. Maridun is ours.”

Admiral Gorn nodded, returning to the viewscreen. “Shut down the shield grid and launch survey teams. I want survivor settlements located, and confirmation that the Reaver virus has been purged from Maridun.

“And contact High Command; the Overseer needs to know what happened here.”





“Less than six hours ago, a Cooperative task force succeeded in wresting control of Maridun from the Reavers, erecting a viable, long-term deterrent to Reaver return: the Testudo Defense Grid. Ladies, gentlemen, and good beings of the Quelii Sector Alliance, we give you Stage One of the Reaver eradication.” Beta fell silent, the reason for the Quelii Alliance's first official meeting since the defeat of the Cavrilhu Pirates being made clear.

“You wish us to believe that the acquisition of one world within Reaver Space is cause for celebration?” The man from Quelii asked.

“You miss the point,” The Chevin from Vinsoth spoke up. “The Reavers withdrew. There is a limit to their . . . hmm . . . resolve. This is knowledge; this is information; this is insight.”

“Yes, but these Reavers withdrew to somewhere!,” A Kauronian spoke up. “Their resolve was not broken, only diverted! Continued incursions into Reaver Space may spur them to expand once more! We cannot afford to be overrun!”

“And what of your choice of worlds?” A woman from Corstris chimed in. “Maridun.”

Beta rose to his feet to answer that question, taking on the full persona of the Overseer. “I will not argue the strategic value of Maridun, which is evident to anyone with eyes. The fact remains that Maridun is a Protected Planet of the Cooperative; it fate is our responsibility. That was the oath we made to its people; an oath we have now proved by action.”

“And what of the Paradise system?” She shot back, undeterred.

“The actions of the Cooperative Council of Defense are not open for discussion. However, I can assure you that our Ugor allies have not been abandoned. As for the topic at hand: we now have a viable gauge of the limit of Reaver commitments. If we can inflict sufficient casualties to them while minimizing conversion rates, we can break the Reavers.”

“In one or two sectors, perhaps,” The Quelii representative reentered. “But not across the whole of Reaver Space. There is no single force in the galaxy that could bring that kind of firepower against so large a region of space. Not even the Empire, if they didn't have an alien invasion to fend off.”

It was fortunate that Beta was unable to smile. Word had already reached the Overseer through the Tirahnn HoloNet link that Prime Minister Regrad had set out on a tour of the Reaver border to gather support and set about the destruction of the Reaver threat once and for all. By the time he reached the Quelii Sector, it would be ready to embrace this compact.

“The universe will provide.”

Interlude



Gestalt System



"It has been two months since the terrible surprise attack on the Battlestar Gestaltica (the commentator had trouble with the name) and so far, we have made no progress in finding out who these attackers are and what they want.

With us today is Engineer Bry, to help us deconstruct the facts surrounding what little we know about these attackers and what, if anything, our military is doing about it."


(that last dig at the military shot the ratings up a couple of points)


The vid showed a slender female seated next to the commentator who shifted uncomfortably in the limelight.

(Her discomfort despite her admirable looks drew in another couple of points. Clearly those males who called in sick to work but had nothing better to do than watch day-time vids)


"Tell me, Ms. Bry, are these aliens going to enslave us?"

The engineer looked appalled at the commentator and stammered, "I.. I have no way of knowing that."


"So you are saying our military is not preparing for this eventuality?"


"I am not sure what situations our military has prepared for."


"You are a military engineer are you not?" The commentator made a point to look at his notes as if he were talking to someone who was not who they said they were.


"I came her to discuss the facts, not speculate or criticize our military responses.."


"Or lack thereof," murmured the commentator. "It is common knowledge that the Colony Fleet has been in the home system since the attack."


"You would want them somewhere else?" the engineer asked and the commentator pounced.


"Damn right! I want our fleet attacking back. I want our fleet ensuring that no more devastating attacks like the one we suffered go unpunished."


"Unpunished.." Engineer Bry tasted the word and found it unpleasant. "So you mean to tell me that revenge means more to you than the safety of the Colonies?"


The commentator backtracked (and the points climbed up ten million more viewers). "Of course not. But I do not see how sitting in homespace does the Colonies any good and prevents future attacks!"


The engineer shrugged, "We have not been attacked since, so they must be doing something right."


"I am sure the enemy is quaking with fear," the commentator deadpanned.


"There is no need to be insulting. The attackers are not like anyone we've encountered before. Our battlestar was taken apart by a form of fighter we've never seen before."


"So what does your analysis of the wreckage show?"


"What wreckage? The battlestar?"


"The enemy wreckage.." the commentator corrected snidely.


"Well, that is the interesting thing. There was no enemy wreckage for the Engineering Corps to examine."


"What?!" the commentator's head snapped back. "The military lost it?"


"That is not what I said. I said, there was no wreckage."


"Oh, so our military just couldn't quite get a hit off eh?"


The woman's eyes narrowed, "You are being intentionally obtuse. Use your eyes! From the holo-footage we have gathered, these fighters measured anywhere from 30 to 40 meters. If our military cannot hit fighters that big, they have no business being in the business of fighting. But you can see from the footage, even footage you've shown on this network, that we did hit them. Our weapons just did not seem to have an effect."


Engineer Bry leaned forward, clearly warming to a subject that interested her, "Now, what does that tell you?"


"That we are in serious trouble?" the commentator commentated.


"The attacker's weapons were projectile. That is very rare because of practical measures. Current military doctrine on fighters is that they are fast, maneuverable and lightly armoured. These fighters were large, not as maneuverable but they could shrug off hit after hit. Their armor on their
craft seems extremely dense."


"How do you figure that?"


"The splash pattern of the residual ions sprayed against it."


"I thought so..." the commentator lied.


"Even at 40 meters, for fighters to take out the Ges..Gestaltica is surprising wouldn't you think?"


"Kinetic impact," the Engineer said. "The amount of power such an impact is related to it's velocity so the projectiles would be moving at a fantastic rate. They cut through the battlestar like butter. But, at those speeds, they burned through their ammunition relatively quickly as well which is why their attack did not last very long."


"But what does all this add up too?" the commentator asked, dragging the conversation back into his area of expertise: speculation.


"The attackers came in with around 20 fighters. They knew they would burn through their ammunition quickly and so struck at the most optimal time, during the launching of the battlestar. They hit want they meant too and did nothing else. There have been no secondary strikes and their one strike was on a military target.

They knew when to hit us, what to hit and how which means they are getting their intelligence somehow, some way. How?

Perhaps they are among us and can pass for Colonials but we do not know.


What we do know is that their weapons can carve up our fleet and we have yet to hurt them. They know where we are and we have no idea where they are. Also, if those ships at 40 meters were fighters, what sort of carrier ship would they land on? If we were to take a standard carrier model and scale up proportionally, then you have a carrier that dwarfs the battlestar. Our fleet is doing the smart thing by remaining in system until we can come up with a plan that will not involve Colonials getting cut to ribbons while on patrol.

If this carrier is as large as my fears are projecting, and their fighters definitely are much larger than ours, it also opens up to us a pattern of thinking regarding our attackers.

They only hit our biggest, strongest warship and that, in itself, may give us much more insight into their way of thinking. The battlestar did not die in vain."

Summit-class Battleship Fidelitas, in orbit via Dalos IV

Von Masmont watched Abell handle the Prime Minister with more verbal eloquence than the man would ever be able to muster ever again. It was the times like these which made the commander uncomfortable. It was the times like these that he felt weak even in the bridge of his own battleship. It was the times like these that he felt angry. He could only distract himself by focusing on the information that presented itself.

We have cooperated with the Cooperative in providing recon and movement information on the reavers via use of our recon flights with their homing beacons. But thus far, the Cooperative has not provided any sort of strengtht on this level. This is good. And with the Council's open orders, I am free to purseu our goal of eliminating the Reavers by any means possible. And I will take this mean, even if the political repercussions can be servere. Captain Abell spared a glance at his CO, who in turn merely gestured at the other man's console.

"We appreciate your offer of assistance," replied the Captain, "and we pledge to offer our own assistance in this just cause..."

Commodore von Masmont: Tell him we wish to switch attaches and coordinators....

"...and in this effort, we do accept your offer of advisors and military officers, and in return we wish to send a delegation of our own attaches and coordinators to your forces to further facilitate this compact.."

Commodore von Masmont: You will send him the channels to get in touch with Commodore Valeska in the Meridian Sector.

Jacqui Lambrousse: I've sent the proper files to your station; if you're smart enough to open it up with this operating system. Just kidding, I've already sent them. Better explain yourself fast, jerk-off.

"...I am sending you the contact information about the other Confederate task force dealing with these...things. Commodore Valeska is leading Task Force Justitia in our efforts to eradicate the Reaver presence in the Meridan Sector.."

Eradicate is the proper term. The Reavers show up at a Confederate planet, find out that every ship has already left the area because of the Confederate Defence Web early warning sensors, and are promptly halted by the planetary shields and smashed by the planetary-based artillery. Justitia jumps in and wipes out any survivors with its massive firepower. I think they've learned to avoid Confederate planets by now. It's not that they'll only lose a lot of Reavers, but more importantly, they lose a lot of ships without any replacements. And that is the limiting factor of the Reaver advance. They lose as many people and merely replace them with the flick of a finger. However, replacing Imperial star destroyers and other warships is a whole together different matter. They're not so good at building starships from what we can tell...

No, the Reavers have little chance of directly afflicting the Confederate populace with their plague. But they will harm us by making space travel tedious and dangerous, and thus fragmenting the material glue which binds our worlds together. The planets will survive, but will the Confederation as an organization be stronger? This crisis could strengthen or weaken the federal government...

Commodore von Masmont: Kindly inform the Prime Minister that Task Force Fidelitas wishes to accompany his fleet.

"...but in the mean time, Task Force Fidelitas wishes to accompany your fleet on its noble mission. Will you accept our offer?"

Obroa-Skai


"My fellow members, many are under the impression that the League of Nations was formed by the Empire and nothing could be farther from the truth. A group of worlds saw that it was to their mutual benefit to band together against Imperial encroachments within their respective territories. The old adage of succeeding together or dying alone being the thought of the times and now, now...we stand on the brink of war with that very same Empire?

Why?

Because we honored the rights of the individual worlds to choose their own destiny. Because we honor the traditions of freedom from manipulation, and believe me, we have been horribly manipulated by the Empire!

Rather than treat us as equals, we allowed them to lull us into a false sense of security by appealing to our pride. The League of Nations meeting within the very heart of the Galactic Empire, inside the old Republic Rotunda fueled our dreams of toppling that regime all the while it kept us under their thumb.

What did it matter if they were gracious enough to allow our shipping to come and go, if they were gracious enough not to interdict or harrass our shipping?


We were under their thumbs and believe me, I know what it means to be under the Empire's thumb. I have fought them for as long as I can remember and enjoyed the fruits of victory and the languish of defeat.


Being a resident in an Imperial prison for years changes one's perspective on things and, while breaking those Imperial chains that bound me and my people, I have come to understand the insidiousness of my old enemy.


It is not enough to simply defeat us. They must control us and so they did with the League of Nations! They used us as a propaganda piece to sow discord among their enemies, namely, the Galactic Coalition. And why?


Because they did not respect us!


So here we are, on the brink of war. I rebelled against that control and other worlds followed my example.


Because we deserve, as an organization, as a people, as living beings to be respected! We deserve it!


*


This latest episode with the planet Colla IV has me greatly disturbed. In looking over this "Tirahnn Solution", I find that my esteemed colleague is not correct when espousing why the Galactic Coalition world of Tirahnn is a member world.

He had stated, and I quote, 'The League recognizes Tirahnn's commitment to our ideals; to the causes of peace, prosperity, security, and neutrality.'.


Tirahnn as a member world is a testament to our organization's commitment to peace. The Empire and the Galactic Coalition have been at war for as long as the Coalition has been in existence. Whether a cold war or a hot war, we all recognize this as truth. And throughout these years, it has become evident that neither had either sufficient resources nor desire to expend on a full military victory.

So why not a nonmilitary solution? If the League could broker a deal between these two great powers, through it's member world of Tirahnn, would not that be a better solution?

It was perhaps an idealistic and foolish thought for the Empire kept it's boot on our neck all the while pretending to respect us.

And so, for better or worse, we have finally stood up to that great Empire.


And for what?


So another great empire could attempt manipulation?


Unfortunately, this empire is much more subtle than Emperor Hyfe's. Manipulation under the glove of friendship instead of intimidation is still manipulation.


This situation has shown our system to be staggeringly weak. The Coalition used a local-level wrongdoing, brought it all the way up to the Rotunda's attention and effectively passed legislation to not only remove Colla IV from our ranks but to have it later join the Galactic Coalition.

Is this the conduct of a friendly nation?

Is this the conduct of a nation who espouses the ideals of peace, prosperity, security, and neutrality?

This Galactic Coalition and their member state, the Cooperative does work for peace, prosperity, and security. Namely, their own.


And so, Tirahnn must be removed from the League of Nations. Not because of any failing on their part but because we must rectify a wrong.

We do not live in an ideal galaxy and we cannot presume (any longer) on others doing the right thing. We must make the efforts ourselves.


It is not right for us to ask Tirahnn to be our broker for peace between two warring nations. It was wrong of us to shackle that expectation on them and so we let them go back to their Coalition with no strings attached.


It was wrong of us to make them choose between working for their Coalition's interests and working for the League's interests...because it does seem that these two interest are separate.


Why?


I give you Tirahnn's chosen representative's own words to this august body:

“Imagine a galaxy-spanning Association of Free Trade Worlds, bound by a desire for mutual development and peace, but free to rule themselves as independent states...

...The League will require trade partners to replace what was lost with the Empire's expulsion . . . what more will be lost if the Empire attempts to interdict League shipping?”

If we did not vote in favor, the threat is evident. Yes, it is to be expected, on the brink of war with the Empire, our trade will fall off. Was not this very item not discussed prior to allowing my own people as well as the world of Dantooine to enter the League discussed.


Any choice the League makes that is contrary to the Imperial agenda makes us a target of that same Empire.

Now, it seems, we are also a target of this 'Association' with 'galaxy-spanning' ambitions and if we make a choice contrary to their agenda, will we suffer as we have at the hands of the Empire?

This Athan is correct that we do see darkness everywhere. We also see it in his veiled threats. Contrary to this Athan's words, we do not wish to see Tirahnn razed.

We just wish to stop being manipulated by governments who have their own agendas and concerns in mind rather than ours.


And so, this incident has shown us an staggering weakness within our structure. Within ourselves.


New legislation has been put before the League of Nations to pool our educational resources together to avoid diplomatic misunderstandings between our member worlds.

This legislation will also call for the creation of system designated to handle such incidents such as the death of those Ryn on Colla IV, to be overseen by an organization within the League.

The Rotunda is a gathering of representatives of our member states, we are not judges, jury and executioners handing out world-spanning punishment for four unfortunate deaths. That is not justice! That is revenge!


This Athan and his backers would have us feel dirty for including Colla IV within the League of Nations without much of the planet's support.


But what he does not remind you of was that we also enacted an agreement with the Empire (as impotent as we might have been and probably still considered by these governments), we...us... this impotent little League did accomplish that! An agreement that left our worlds unmolested by that very same evil Empire!

And, thank the makers, it was an agreement that the Empire honored.

The League has bled for that agreement and we have paid and are continuing to pay the price for our association with the Empire. Therefore, I cannot fault the inhabitants of Colla IV for choosing as they did but I do recognize that the inhabitants are alive and free to make that choice only by the hard work of those members of the League.

However, I do fault those that manipulated our system to politically benefit.

That will not happen again for this legislation that is before us will also call for the immediate expulsion of any world aligned with a galactic government who manipulates a League member world into joining their own.

If a galactic government wishes to trade with us we have no problem with that. But it will not be at the expense of political debt. For that is the way of the darkside.

We are on the verge of war with the Empire but we have not crossed that line. Even so, we have diplomats risking their lives to ensure another outcome. We are not as talented, we are not as smooth nor are we as powerful as other galactic governments.


But we have each other.

In fact, we are all we have.

Although it seems the Galactic Coalition approves of our stand against the Empire, they do not approve of it enough to threaten our resources and steal away our strength in the face of war with the Empire.

Perhaps Tirahnn does not fear the Empire since they are already aligned with a much larger, much more sophisticated government. But lack of fear is not enough without mutual respect, honor and commitment!

And they should have respected us.

If that simple empathy for our situation cannot be found, then they have no business being a League member for they are not one.


So we will continue on. We will not answer the Coalition or their member states for this manipulation nor will we sanction them. They are still free to come and go within our systems, though, not within our government. If they choose to remove support totally, then the League will do what it is currently doing.


We will make do with what we have.


And what do we have?


While our individual military organizations are working out a combined strategy to meet the Imperial aggression should it occur, how will we deal with issues like what transpired on Colla IV?


It is still relatively unclear what did happen.


We seem to be frightfully unaware of just what is going on within our borders and those that do know, seem to be bent on their own agenda in secret meetings rather than here, out in the open!


As this Athan fellow stated, and I quote, 'Four Ryn have died in the past three days, working to reclaim a world that does not belong to them from a poison that was not their doing.'


We still do not know who was responsible for the tragedy of Glee Anselm.


Do we dare ignore the fact that Colla IV is relatively close to Neimodia?


And we all have seen the headline: A Cure-all for the Neimoidian Plague?

Developed by Tirahnn doctors, no less. While this is merely speculation, one begins to wonder if this entire episode with Colla IV was not manufactured at the expense of all who have died... our ambassadors, four dead Ryn, the greater population of Glee Anselm... all for the political benefit of the Coalition, it's member states and this Overseer whose ambitions the Coalition seems to be supporting?


The point is, we do not know. All we know is that we have been threatened in the mildest of manners but threatened nonetheless.


So how do we address incidents and threats such as these?


By empowering those with the strength and ability to protect us while we work to preserve our League.


They were once known as the Guardians of Peace and Justice throughout the galaxy and I am privileged to have been a part of their ranks.


I do not say that I should be the one to head this responsibility for my focus in the Empire and those enemies outside of the League.


But there is one who has lead with distinction and has the necessary skills and power to see that peace and that justice throughout our League.


Perhaps not the galaxy but, as with all things good and true, you have to start somewhere.


This legislation will empower the Jedi Enclave to act within the best interests of the League of Nations and towards the benefit of it's people.


This is, of course, pending Master Ekan's acceptance.


If you will take a moment to review..."

Legislation Approved

League of Nations Tirahnn Charter Suspended

Coalition political influence within the League diminished drastically

Dalos IV

The offer of assistance was no small thing, considering how stretched the Confederation's own resources were. Touched, Regrad replied "If you think your defences can spare them, then they are of course welcome with us. We cannot afford to tarry though, so as soon as we exchange advisors and link up we're moving on. We're likely going to visit other Confederation planets along the border to check up on security, so if there's anything else we can arrange it for our next stop in Confederation space."



A shuttle detached from within The Coalition, carrying within it a handful of Coalition soldiers, a few functionaries, and two ambassadors - notably, a fidgity Wookie and a melancholy Trandoshan.

The Wookie, Oaxaca, looked out his porthole window at the quickly-receding Coalition flagship. He growled something in his native tongue, which a translator necklace around his neck turned into "I hope we'll be okay. I've heard stories about how this Confederation deals. A very... martial society."

"Oh, we'll be fine," Jargur the Trandoshan mumbled. "We've got the easy assignment. Just feel sorry for the poor fools in the next shuttle."

Oaxaca's furry brow furrowed. "Why? What have they got to worry about?"

"Didn't you hear?" Jargur snorted and gave a humorless grin. "They're going to the Empire."

Despite all his thick, warm fur, Oaxaca felt a distinct chill run down his spine.



As the Fidelitas task force and the Confederation's hastily-assembled diplomatic team joined up with the Coalition fleet, Regrad paused to admire their stately warships from the vantage of his bridge. It had truly been a blow to the Coalition losing the Confederation, but he could see in their firm military discipline and professional warship designs why they had been destined for other things. Attrition and wear had run the Coalition fleet ragged, but for the Confederation it had been a challenge met with still-more resolve and stamina.

"We'll be linking up our communications hubs through intermediary buoys we're dropping along the way," Yolem explained to his counterpart on the Confederation's channel. "That way our fleets will be free to communicate like one big extended network. We'll be able to keep you up-to-date on our navigational plans, as well - no secrets with us, the Reavers think nothing of our strategy and our neighbours deserve to know our plans."

Regrad turned back from the main viewport to the Confederation's hologram. "Our next stop is almost certainly Imperial, if they haven't all fallen by now. A few worlds under the aegis of the SS still stand, according to our intel, but Thornton has stripped whatever borderland forces weren't wasted in futile endeavours to 'support' Coruscant. If any of his former worlds still stand I can imagine they will need our help - and be sour enough to their former master to take it."

Pausing to take in the sight of their combined fleet, Regrad eventually picked up his comm and made the fleet-wise announcement of their next destination. "We make for Echtabahn, with a side-stop at Valinor if our scout-ships are not well-received. Much will depend on their diplomatic tongues and careful approach, as a thunderous avalanch of warships will only excite Imperial fanatics and convince them the moment is right to die gloriously for their honour.

"If we are to have any chance of winning over the SS - a mortal enemy and yet a vital ally against the Reavers - then every one of us needs to be ready for one of the greatest diplomatic challenges of our long patrol. Make ready, we jump to light-speed now."

With their scouts already under-way, probing the small Imperial stronghold for safe approaches and diplomatic channels, Regrad could only settle into his command chair and pray that cooler heads prevailed. Not for their own sakes, but for all those trapped inside of Reaver space who were depending on them.

Orilcia, Ossus


"Thank you, please be seated. I am prepared to make a short statement and then answer any questions you all may have, if that's alright with every-yes, a quick question before we begin?"

"Representative Tre'Na, with all due respect, perhaps you could answer why Parliament has chosen its most junior representative to answer questions at this conference?"

"Are you asking if Parliament is attempting to snub the media? The answer is most definitively no. My association with the Jedi Enclave is the primary purpose for me being before you today-"

"And what relationship do you have with the Enclave, Representative?"

"As a founding member and Jedi-"

The rest of Tre'Na's sentence is drowned in an uproar of questions from the press, ranging from "Have the Jedi taken over Parliament?" to "Is Admiral Ekan running the military?". Finally, the Representative is able to restore order.

"Please, please! There will be plenty of time for questions after my statement, but briefly: as far as I know, I am the only Jedi within parliament, and by no means have we taken over anything. In fact, my statement addresses this very fact, so if you will allow me..."

The Representative begins reading.

"Let it be known that Ossan Parliament and the Jedi Enclave are two very separate entities. The former is the governing body of a planet, the latter is a religious organization, nothing more. The Jedi do not involve themselves in political affairs, but merely act as keepers of the peace. Ossus is in no danger of political upheaval and no Jedi will influence Parliament that is not elected by the people to represent them.

Ossan policies and Enclave policies are not one in the same. As both a Representative of the Knossa region and a Jedi Master, no one is more aware of that than I. I represent the people of Knossa first and foremost, not the interests of the Enclave. My duties to the Jedi are carried out in my own personal time.

I will, at this time, answer any questions you may have...you sir."

"Why were the Ossan people not informed of the Jedi presence at Knossa?"

"I was not aware Ossan law required religious organizations to announce themselves before taking up residence. If the Enclave has been...secretive, it is merely because we wish to avoid another incident like Naboo, and not because of any underlying malicious intent. You, sir."

"Incident at Naboo?"

"I am referring to the Imperial occupation and genocide against the Jedi living on Naboo that occurred quite recently."

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence, followed by a single hand.

"Rumors of Imperial wrongdoing on Naboo have been mostly dismissed as fear mongering. Do you have proof to the contrary, Representative?"

"Proof? There are several dozen survivors of the genocide residing in Knossa at the present time. But if you really need proof, sir, maybe you could ask Jedi Master Zark Ekan to show you the scars he received during the course of his valiant, if futile and near fatal, defense of the abandoned Temple against several Sith seeking to deface and pillage it. But this is not a press conference concerning Naboo. Next question please, you."

"Has Master Ekan come to a decision regarding Chaddwick Fearsons's peacekeeper legislation?"

"Master Ekan is not even aware of Emperor Fearsons's legislation. He is currently serving aboard the ONS Axiom, patrolling the borders of Reaver space. The Navy runs comm silent during patrols to avoid provoking Reaver assault. I'm sure he'll be available for comment upon his return. Next question."

"Can you speculate as to what his response might be?"

"In the time I've known Zark Ekan, I've learned he is anything but predictable, but he knows as well as I that as Jedi we are primarily guardians of peace and justice, regardless of backing by a governing entity. I would say chances are good he will accept. You."

"Would that mean greater Ossan involvement in League policies?"

"As I said before, Parliament and the Enclave are two separate entities. It would mean greater Enclave involvement in peacekeeping throughout League worlds. But as long as we're on the subject of League policies, I for one would love to see some sort of ethical accords drafted and agreed upon by the League for the Enclave to uphold. Next question."

"How do you respond to allegations that Master Ekan abused his influence as a founder of the Enclave to secure his commission within the Ossan Navy?"

"I would first point out that Zark Ekan was asked by Parliament to accept a temporary commission as Admiral in order to provide his unique expertise in combating the Reaver threat. I would also note his past service within the Ossan Navy as a Line Captain during the Thrawn crisis under the command of his mentor, Admiral Jiren. You, there."

"If the Enclave meant to avoid the public eye, why did it allow Emperor Fearsons's to speak so openly of it to the Rotunda?"

"We didn't. Fearsons outed us." Brief laughter. "In all seriousness, he did. The Enclave has had no contact or relation with Juutral previous to this legislation. I can only attribute his knowledge of us to his communication with the Force...or his communication with his spooks." More laughter. "Regardless, I suppose it is for the best. We have had a year to regroup and rebuild, I suppose we are as ready for the galaxy as we shall ever be. Next question."

"How many Jedi are there on Ossus?"

"The city of Knossa is primarily populated by native Ysanna, all of whom are Force sensitive to at least some degree. As for members of the actual Enclave itself, never enough I am afraid! If you are out there, watching this at home, and you believe you yourself or your children may be Force sensitive, we are always looking for new padawans. And this applies to those not just on Ossus, but to all League worlds, and anyone else who can and wishes to safely make the journey. You are not alone. I only have time for one final question, please. You, sir."

"Would Emperor Fearsons be accepted should he choose to join the Jedi Enclave?"

"It would be hypocritical of me particularly to deny one entry to the Enclave based on his political involvement, yet...let us just say that the Jedi have had a bad history with Emperors. Still, the Jedi Enclave was built upon the remains of both the Jedi and Rogue Jedi Orders, and we do not discriminate against any sect of Jedi, but rather encourage unity, in purpose if not in methodology. As long as Chaddwick Fearsons displayed unerring service to the Lightside of the Force in the eyes of the Enclave...who would we be to turn him away? Now, if you all will excuse me, I must attend to my duties in Parliament. Thank you."

Transitory Mists, CWS Dahlonega - Admiral's Quarters

The glow panels were set to dim in the admiral’s quarters, but what was really that unusual about something like that? The brightest light in the room was the end of the admiral’s cigarette as it intermittently took on the color of a Sith Lord’s lightsaber as he took in deep lung wrecking drags. He was not drinking, but the hand resting on the seat’s meager armrest was balled into a fist.

An electronic bell signaled the presence of someone at the door
.
“Enter,” growled the admiral, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

The flood of light entering the room kept Wilkar’s eyes from identifying the visitor past his or her hazy silhouette.

“Close goddamn door!” ordered the admiral.

“Got your desk cleaned out yet Vice-Admiral Wilkar?” asked an unmistakable voice. The Twilek Colonel of the Commonwealth Intelligence Services set down in the chair opposite of Wilkar.

“Please take a seat Colonel Tau,” said Wilkar as he stubbed out his cigarette. “Lights up.” The room filled with a not so warm glow. “What can I do for you Tau? Intel find some dirt to fuck up my life even more? I don’t film when I fuck so don’t fish for a confession with a bullshit sex tape.”

The Twilek chuckled.

“You’ve lost no charm admiral. Not one bit…” The alien pulled some kind of device from his jacket and began scanning the room. “Just scanning for recording devices, no need for concern,” assured the Colonel.

“Oh no worries Colonel. I haven’t had a drink in two months. I’m looser than a Tatooine whore. Not on edge at all…” grumbled the admiral as he lit another cigarette. “So Colonel, are you the one sent to assassinate me?”

“No Admiral… I’m the one who sent to decide whether it’s in the best interests of the Commonwealth to keep you in the navy. I’m the one holding your career in… quote my dirty alien claws. So please do your best to explain your line of thought out in the Mists last week.”

“That was verbatim was it not Colonel?” The Twilek nodded affirmatively to the question.

“I would say that I would speak for the Commonwealth Intelligence community when I say we would have preferred that you had killed Lupercus out there in the Mists.” The Colonel grinned the way only a Twilek could. “One less psychopath to have to be concerned with. I’m sure you understand. When he was out there in the mists, he wasn’t our problem. Now it’s as if…” The alien paused. “Your actions hand delivered us a walking time bomb. Yes… Yes… He took power using legal means, but…” The Twilek shrugged.

“I’ve already heard that bantha shit Colonel,” said Wilkar calmly. “But you’re right… I should have just fucking killed Lupercus. That probably would have made it a lot easier for you boys.”

The Twilek nodded to agree. “I’m glad that we are on the same--”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? KILL A FUCKING SITH LORD? YOU TALK LIKE THAT’S AS EASY AS PICKING UP A LITER OF NERF MILK FROM THE STORE!”

The admiral continued to tirade for some time, smoking no less than three cigarettes

Once calm he began again. “A lot of people might think that I made the incorrect the choice out there, but the way I see it we were two seconds away from being History of Coalition Part I: Getting gutted by the Empire. See? I bought us some time here. We let Lupercus make another move. He’ll smell pussy and fuck up and I’ll be there waiting.” The admiral banged his fist on the table to bolster his point.

“What are you in the mind to remedy this situation Admiral?” asked the colonel.

“What am I in the mind to do? Well I’d start by putting a star destroyer in orbit of every member world of the Consortium, and then I’d jump the Dahlonega here right on top of Hapes itself. They signed the fucking accord, and now they have to fucking go along. If Lupercus pulls any funny shit, I’ll start turning continents into glass figurines.”

The Colonel’s eyes got very wide.

“Don’t worry Colonel. I’m not actually going to do that. I’m not Governor Tarkin that the media makes me out to be. The Commonwealth will have to wait at least another generation or two before we can pull moves like that on Hapes anyways. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to sit on my ass here in the Mists until Lupercus does something that I don’t like or those fucking Reavers break our containment. Or maybe I’ll get a better idea. Now Colonel, why not you do me a fucking favor and get the fuck out of here?”

Coruscant: After the Prison Break

The makeshift durasteel spear tore through flesh and machine with a terrible crash. With a roar Sha’tek, tore into it, breaking it. Flesh could not survive without machine, and machine could not survive without flesh, so with a scream the creature passed.

Sha’tek had never seen their kind before. They appeared to have once been Coruscanti, but now their bodies were riddled with technology he had not seen before. They were easy enough to trick and mislead, slow to move and slow to react, but they had numbers. And their numbers seemed to be growing as they took in the weak, broken masses of the Lower Levels.

The Lower Levels had descended into panic and anarchy. Above, an alien fleet choked the life from the planet, and below these creatures spread. The Imperials seemed to have been caught off guard, not expecting their capitol to come under attack. Their soldiers cordoned off the accesses to the upper city, and were content to let the castoffs in the lower levels rot.

He had deduced that the Inquisitors had his equipment, from the questions they asked. He needed to retrieve it, or compound his shame.

He needed a distraction.

A dark, sinister grin came to his face as an idea blossomed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Makeshift explosives and crudely made spears and javelins came with him. Sha’tek cut down the unworthy masses, driving those who had fled from other places closer to the entrances to the upper levels. The refugees had nothing to their names, beyond the clothes on their back. These starved, wretched beings were easy to drive. The fight was out of them, and all they wanted was to live.

The masses ran and screamed in panic, as Sha’tek drove them forward towards the surface. They swarmed like sheep, like cattle away from the voracious being and the things that quickly drew upon them. Such a quantity of life had drawn many of these technological terrors and they made their chase. Up the helpless Coruscanti went, choosing the guns of Imperial soldiers standing the blockade line and the small chance of mercy over the unwavering brutal indoctrination of these beings.

Sha’tek slipped away, no longer needing to be a driving force. These creatures saw far easier feeding, and the people didn’t need him to herd them any further. The Imperials hesitated for a couple of moments, awaiting for confirmation to open on fire, but it was a moment too long. They didn’t have enough time to cut the people down, and only a small fraction met their deaths. The frightened angry mob clashed into them with screams and long held anger being unleashed, fighting for life and survival.

And as they clashed, the dead, the dying, and those unfortunate slow few in the rear had the cybernetic swarm upon them. Ripping, clawing, and making them of theirs. Sha’tek had provided a wonderful wall of bodies and by the times these creatures reached the Imperials they had been scattered and many had run out of ammo.

They didn’t stand a chance.

Now, as they broke free of the Lower Levels to the ones above, and the panic spread and chaos reigned, Sha’tek would find these inquisitors.

Deep within Reaverspace above an isolated Imperial World after the forced retreat of the Empire but before The Battle of Coruscant…

The sound of clanking boots reverberated across the ship as crew rushed around the Corellian Corvette Lucky Chance making preparations for the reversion to realspace. Highly modified in many dangerous and illegal ways, it was essential the crew cover a thorough checklist before each reversion to ensure nothing could go wrong, causing the ship to explode - or worse - as the hyperdrive deactivated.

Fortunately nothing was wrong with the ship, just like the last four trips the Luck had made, and nothing was out of order with their cargo either, part of a high-powered orbital turbolaser system. The remaining components were in the Luck’s sister ships, both traveling nearby but unseeable through the electromagnetic flux of hyperspace. Packed in every remaining nook and cranny were blasters, dozens of crates of blasters of all conceivable makes and models. The planets of the Borderland, watching the approaching flood, were going all out in an effort to prepare themselves. Hundreds of contracted ships were en route now to various planets, risking running the Imperial blockade and the Reaver presence for the sake of massive profits. These deliveries were so profitable, in fact, that Alliance vessels had been pulled from all but the most profitable of runs for these missions, which could fetch a dozen times market value for every piece of equipment delivered.

The catch was, of course, the risk. Not from the Empire – Grand Moff Thorton had cleared unofficial channels for any vessels that wanted to travel to or from the Borderland as well as transport ships sent by himself to his former territory and had told Zell as politely as one could to fuck off when he’d brought it up. Behind Reaver lines, however, was dangerous territory. The Reavers themselves weren’t especially dangerous but against a sole smuggler ship even an outdated Tion or Farfallen vessel was enough to blow them out of the sky. Add to this the growing pirate threat in the region caused by the extraction of the Imperial Fleet and the plugging of more legitimate trade routes, which forced the use of more dangers and less charted ones, and you had a recipe for potential disaster in the wrong Captain’s hands.

Automatically, the Lucky Chance’s navicomputer pulled the Corvette out of hyperspace right on schedule. On each flank was another jet black Corellian Corvette identical to the lead ship, the Chance’s sister ships Lucky Star and Lucky Break. All three had been captured several years back at an engagement somewhere in the Borderland and that’s all Captain Smith of the Lucky Chance knew. Exactly where and from who was a closely kept secret. The battle had, however, been clearly significant because the ships they captured were enough for the Alliance to open up operations in a dozen new sectors and field a newly-acquired Imperial-class Star Destroyer who’s origins were equally secret.

The first words out of the Captain’s mouth were “Oh my God,” as he looked out at the carnage above the planet. Though not a particularly important world, the Reavers had not shown themselves to be a particularly logical species and apparently the minor world of Mefflis V was their newest target. Engaged above the planet was half a dozen improvised planetary defense ships, civilian freighters that had been armed with heavy blaster cannons and light turbolasers from Imperial Army Caches on the planet below, and twice their number in unidentified vessels with the defense force getting the worst of it. The freighters were no match for warships, even outdated ones. Despite the firepower they brought to bear, one sluggish freighter after another was destroyed by the Reaver attackers.

“Reavers!” the Captain shouted to the bridge crew as the surviving vessels turned toward the Corvettes. Despite the futility of the freighters stand they had still left a slowly-expanding field of debris, the remains of a pair of Reaver cruisers. “Take evasive maneuvers now, and somebody call sector control. Find out where we need to be!”

While descriptions of Corellian Corvettes being more of an oversized fighter than a warship might not be true, especially when loaded down heavy with spice, the Captain did know it had a better-than-average Thrust to weight ratio for it’s size, giving it good speed and maneuverability, especially compared to the light cruisers and frigates outside. Fusion drives blazing at full throttle, the Lucky Chance and it’s accompaniment easily evaded the Reaver attackers, their six medium Turbolaser batteries firing off shots into the closest ship.

By the time they had gotten a safe distance away from the pursuing Reavers one crewman, in charge of communications on the bridge, had managed to get the Captain the answers they wanted from the planet below about the attack, including where they needed to be. During the war with the True Empire, Mefflis V had been the focal point of the final battle between Kach Thorton and Griz Enfield during a convoy ambush staged above the Imperial Garrison planet. Interdiction Pickets hidden in the convoy had prevented the four True Empire Star Destroyers present from escaping, allowing Kach’s far larger armada to take their time in defeating them. Griz’s flagship, the Titanic, had attempted to escape by running the Interdictor field early on in the battle and had been disabled by a sustained missile barrage, destroying the engines. It had been determined after the battle the ship wasn’t worth repairing and so the Titanic had been left in orbit to be used as office space. Just recently, with the abandonment of the Borderland by the Empire it had been reoccupied by the planet for use as a battlestation and was now the core of the planets remaining defenses.

With nowhere left to go above the planet they made ready to jump as the remaining Reavers above the planet closed in. But just as the hyperdrive warmed up the entire situation changed. A interdictor field went up, raised by one of the Tion or Farfallen vessels. Their only hope of escape – jumping away from the planet had been cut off.

And so, with no other options, they readied themselves to fight to the last as they began transmitting on universally recognized signals on the most popular bands. Though it was questionable any vessels would be nearby to hear it, those that did would understand it: the hypercomm equivalent of the word “Help.”

In the near future…
As he was about to enter the room of the bedridden Dr. Goddard a familiar voice came from down the hall. “Howdy, Admiral,” a man in a white coat said loudly, loud enough that his thick Outer-Rim accent came through clearly. Gilford studied the silver-haired doctor for a second before smiling.
“Smith, you bastard,” he said back loudly and fondly, a grin on his face. “I haven’t seen you since that engagement over Taanab. I still owe you for what you did there?”

The doctor cockily smiled. “What? Save the life of a minor bridge Lieutenant? That’s my job, Tobias, you don’t need to get me back for that. Besides, that’s in the past now, forget it.”

Gilford slapped him on the back. “I’ll be good for it someday, you son of a bitch. So do you know anything about this patient, Dr. Goddard?”
At the mention of the bedridden doctor Gilford’s friend sobered up just a little bit at the mention of the bedridden doctor’s name. “Come into the observation room,” he said just a bit quietly and more reserved than before, leading the Admiral toward a door next to Dr. Goddards.

As they entered both were silent, the doctor for his own reasons and Gilford for nothing to say.

“Abandoned in the extremes of deep space,” the Doctor said, looking at his patient, “his body went into a sort of natural hibernation as his escape pod cooled off and the atmospheric concentration gradually changed to low oxygen high nitrogen, pushing him into a naturally-induced artificial-coma.” The man shook his head. “It’s a miracle, really. Half a dozen other small but critical factors I couldn’t even begin to describe also came into play on this, like the rate of temperature change in the escape pod.” The doctor pointed to Dr. Goddard through his rooms observation window. He lay silently and calmly sleeping on the other side of the room for the first time in nearly a week. “ That man is quite possibly the luckiest man in the galaxy.”

For a moment Tobias studied the sleeping doctor. “Is there any explanation for the,” he paused briefly for a lack of an adequate word, “powers he reports, doctor?”

The medical center’s chief physician shook his head once more. “Observed powers, now. He can predict who’s going to enter a room hours or minutes before the event of it, and he seems able to read men’s thoughts. But we can’t pinpoint any sort of physical device by which this has come about. Events like this are the absolute fringe of medical science, we can’t explain them. Yet.

"Ideas spun through Gilford’s mind as the potential implications for these abilities came to him. “I hope he is going to be better soon because I’m taking him with me. There’s something I need him for.”

The doctor looked at him funny, but not too funny. This wasn’t unexpected to him. “I wish you’d leave him with us for observation, but he’s stable enough to go.”

“Then I’ll take him.”

** *

Days Earlier during the Battle of Coruscant . . .

“All I’ll need you to do is sign the requisition form, Admiral, and she’s yours” the clerk told him, laughter and amusement visible on his face. “It seems sort of superfluous for something like this, but that’s the rules.”

Cold hearted as he was, Gilford couldn’t help but smile at the stupidity of this. Savoring the moment, he turned around and looked out from the administrative area of this particular spacedock to see almost nothing. No stars twinkling across the skys as the space station slowly orbited. The planet Kuat, home to the largest shipyards in the galaxy, was unseen below. Thanks to the dockyard’s massive cloaking shield – the size of an Imperial Star Destroyer and just as expensive – the only thing visible outside was a huge array of scaffolding stretching as far as the eye could see, one of the largest spacedocks ever constructed. Nested within it was a pair of Executor-III-class Star Destroyers, appearing ironically small in the massive spacedock. They were the only two left and was having some finishing touches added onto it. Within a week both would be ready for launch. In the meantime, the crews tirelessly drilled and prepared for launch within. Further out, just skirting the edge of the cloaking field, was a third Star Destroyer slowly being detached from the massive tugs that had dragged it out of the dock. The last, Gilford knew, had been rushed into service in the Mid-Rim immediately after the fall of Yaga Minor at Governor Kraken’s request.

The story of these Star Destroyers ran through Gilford’s mind. Long ago, long before any of this had happened and even before Thorton’s ascendance to Grand Moff construction had begun soon after Bhindi Drayson’s appointment as Supreme Commander when Drayson and Hyfe had decided that while the Imperial fleet was massive and uncontestable in battle new, larger icons of the Empire’s great might needed to be constructed, and so four more keels had been laid down for Executor IIIs here above Kuat, concealed from prying eyes and held at the most secret of clearances. One for each of the major regions of the Empire: Borderland, Mid-Rim, Core, and the SS/Oversector Outer Region. And now they were ready to serve right when the Empire needed them most. A divine blessing on the New Order.

The crews, drawn from the very best of the Empire’s crews and then assembled and trained in secret on the Ancheron just before the disaster at Yaga Minor – a disaster caused by Zell, Gilford reminded himself – with the last of the crews leaving the planet just days before the attack. The crews were, of course, drawn from the Protectorates their respective ships represented. The crew of the Dominion came from the Mid-rim, Oversector Outer for General Vos’ Tyrant , Borderland for the Administrator and Core for the Eternal

“Alright, Captain,” he said, turning around and taking out a pen. “As an authorized representative for Grand Moff Thorton, I’ll sign.”

** *

Interlude: From Leviathans: The Hunt Begins and then Months Before

"Welcome to Imperial Junction, Commodore," she said to him with a smile. After the arrival of several admirals from the Borderland and Mid-Rim Protectorates in just the last few hours, a visit from a Commodore was not a particularly special event, even if it might have been under more normal circumstances, but Thorton was a special case.

At the sound of her voice he smiled. "Thank you, Melini," he replied as he reached the bottom of the ramp. "It has been far too long. I haven't seen you since our days at the academy." He looked around the hanger in an exaggerated manor. "So what does one have to do--or fail to do--to be given an assignment way out here in the boondocks?" he asked.

"I have attempting to sleep with a superior officer to thank for it. I was trying to score some points in a contest between me and a few others over promotion, and attempted to seduce him. He--mercifully, he said--merely had me demoted and sent out here instead of discharged, but only if I gave him what I had originally set out to give him anyway."

A quick look down at her rank bar--a Lieutenant's rank bar--while she was looking another direction confirmed her story, at least the part about the demotion.

"A shame, a shame," Kach replied morosely. "You were doubtlessly one of the brighter officers in our class. Perfect marks and attendance, and a superb record in all simulations and exercises."

His mind wasn't on the present, as she realized from his seemingly automatic response. Her short tale about seducing her superior had made him remember several flings they'd had back at the academy. He idly wondered whether there'd be any chance of that happening here.

She realized what he was thinking about and almost blushed.

* * *

On his way to his quarters, Admiral Kraken came across another pair of individuals who were standing at the entrance to a set of quarters near his own. He recognized the male immediately as Commodore Thorton. The female figure jogged his brain, until he suddenly remembered who she was, Lieutenant Melini. Promotions were due for a female to become his new secretary after the old one became pregnant and had to take leave of absence.

Melini had tried to seduce him in order to gain the spot, totally unaware that Kraken was already a married man, and totally turned off to the sexual advances of other women. Well, not totally turned off, that is. In a rare moment where he had let his guard down, he had indulged in looking upon her and imagining what he would like to do to her. When he caught himself, he had become very angry, and perhaps a little unfairly, had taken out most of that anger on her, demoting her and sending her to the new frontier of Imperial Junction, far away from the rest of the galaxy.

It looks like she may not be wasting anytime getting back to her old tricks.. he wondered idly.

"Commodore Thorton, how nice it is to see you again." said Kraken, holding a salute to the Commodore.

He then turned around to look at Lieutenant Melini.

"Liuentnant." he offered up another salute, with just a hint of warning in his eyes, before turning about and proceeding to his own quarters. He turned around briefly.

"I'll be seeing both of you at the conference soon. Be sure to get some rest." he said, smiling briefly, before proceeding into his own room, accompanied by his baggage carriers.

***

Within the bowels of Coruscant, Trachta carefully watched the holoprojection coming from the disk placed on his desk by his subordinate. It switched between several scenes captured on surveillance cameras, the first from a high-level Imperial conference at a space station that had eventually resulted in nothing but new political alliances and then later ones of just Kraken and the woman taken from his office and palace on Vladet and his flagship.
“Nothing to incriminating yet, Commodore, but from what she said to Grand Moff Thorton in this footage it’s clear the real deal exists somewhere. We just have to go through all of Kraken’s office and flagship footage to manually to uncover it.”

“So far we have just one other thing…” the aid added. “It appears, from what we’ve found, for a very brief period of time he was a smuggler. We’re having our agents comb through all our contacts and information on smuggling operations in the past even as we speak.”

Trachta mused over the information carefully for a few moments. “Take your time, Captain. We’re in no hurry, though it’s information I do eventually have to have.”

** *

And months later, he did.

** *

Imperial Communication and Transport Network, “Freelance Cargo Delivery” (Smuggler’s Alliance)

** *

Above Mefflis V…

Looking out from the viewport on the bridge of the Ferro-class Medium Cruiser Death’s Harbinger Imperial Captain Lucious Gladwell looked at the three Corvettes that had just entered the system. They stood out for no reason other than their Black Paint Jobs until they opened fire on the nearest Reaver vessels with Turbolasers and heavy missiles, a nasty surprise for anything smaller than a light Cruiser that tried to attack them.

Under normal circumstances he would have done his best to bring them in and search their ships, even though he risked losing a light cruiser or frigate in the process against their heavy armament – heavy casualties for such small ships. However, circumstances now were far from normal. Every ship behind the lines at the moment was running hot because it was the only way to make sure you got out alive. Even if you were heavily armed working within Reaverspace was still a bad idea, and only the most daring transport Captains and smuggler’s were willing to risk that. Though he badly wanted to bring the smuggler’s in – he figured Smugglers was what they were – he wouldn’t because they were doing a service to the Empire by running supplies to Borderland planets.

In addition, officially he wasn’t here right now, and neither was the convoy of around fifty transports and six light cruisers. Azrael Zell had strictly forbade Kach Thorton or any of the vessels under his command to enter the protectorate, and Kach had gave in but remained steadfast that access would be granted to ships willing to risk themselves to travel within Reaverspace provided they followed certain protocol that included the disabling of all of their communication systems on board, even holonet, to prevent tracking. Zell had agreed after flipping out on Kach for defying him. It was beginning to become clear, however, that Zell’s powerbase on Coruscant had been eroding and the Grand Admiral knew it. All the fleets from the former protectorate had been shown this holovid and several others, including the orders to evacuate the protectorate.

Behind the convoy the small squadron of gunned bulk transports the planet had deployed to escort them engaged a dozen Reaver vessels, sacrificing themselves to give the Imperial Convoy time to escape. Despite the events that had happened, now that planets had been fully informed what was going and they saw Thorton’s continuous efforts to keep supplying them even in direct defiance of the Regent they remained loyal to the protectorate and Thorton, though not to Imperial center and the regent who had abandoned them. This had been the last of five planets the convoy had been sent out to visit, and on all of the planets - as well as six planets the Captain had visited on his last convoy duty in Reaverspace a week back – this sentiment had been reflected.

Next to the Imperial vessel much of the planets merchant fleet formed together in an effort to jump away from Mefflis V together. Commerce between planets continued, albeit at a rate much retarded compared to interplanetary trade before the Cataclysm, under the same guidelines as for ships entering the protectorate – all communications systems disabled. As long as these procedures were followed it had been found that ships generally were able to travel safely, though they always risked arriving to find their destination in the middle of an attack. Attacks were frequent on populated planets. However, all of the protectorates important planets had been equipped with heavy ground and space defenses – including planetary shields and ground-to-space turbolaser networks - early under Thorton’s tenure as Grand Moff, which meant nearly all of them remained intact. After the first early attacks against them, the Reavers had not bothered to continue expanding toward the core worlds, moving instead into Confederation and Cooperative space and against the less important, less defended planets in the Borderland protectorate’s upper sectors.
Ships who traveled into this territory, near Bandomeer, rarely came back, unlike those traveling here.

Behind the convoy the six vessels were slowly whittled away as the convoy cleared the planets gravity well, from six to five, then five to three and then just one floating in a cloud of debris, an Action IV Transport equipped with a dozen Concussion Missile Launchers. As the Reaver flotilla approached it unleashed everything it had, knowing this was it. Men are at their most honorable, he reflected, when they stare death face to face and are determined to go down fighting. Of the dozen Reaver ships only four were left, but more arrived from the far side of the planet, driven by whatever urge it was that motivated them. Waves of concussion missions emerged from the Action IV as hostile ships charged it with one, a civilian transport ship, moving forward ahead of the rest to ram the ship. It’s reactor breached, the pair disappeared in a giant fireball that sent shrapnel flying into another nearby Reaver transport, penetrating it’s shields and shredding it.

“We’re finished here,” he said. “You may jump when ready.”

And moments later they did, just at their gravitational anomaly sensors announced the presence of a forming gravity well and advised them to jump before they were trapped…

** *

Omnae

The EMP was discharged and seven Reaver ships went dark.


In came the rest of the Imperial formation and soldiers began to board the Reaver vessels and...





...the first thing they noticed was the lack of gravity. The second thing they noticed were bluish bioluminescent veins travelling throughout and between patches of fungus growing within the corridors. Evidence of carbon-scoring and blood littered the scene as if the original owners of the vessels did not go quietly. If this group was to discover more, they would need to proceed deeper into the vessel.


*


The other boarding parties for the other six Reaver vessels did not have such an uneventful time of it. From the moment they boarded, they were met with bodies of multiple races clawing at them, their bodies almost fused to the deck, ceiling and walls.

The boarding parties that floated through the corridors were assailed by these creatures but did not experience any noticable fatalities. The clawing creatures, whose extremeties looked as if they had bled, could not seem to penetrate the armor of the stormtroopers and as blasters shot out rendering the creatures limp, anchored to the plating.

Those boarding parties that landed within a hanger entered through the hanger dealt with vacuum as the ship's systems were dead, it's open ports exposed to space. As each door was opened, it exposed a corridor to vacuum. And so no sound was heard from the anchored creatures as they grabbed at the soldiers. Some that were blasted in half, their bodies being sucked past the soldiers and out into space.

Those boarding parties that cut through the plating and made their own docking port did not expose that level of the Reaver ship to vacuum though there was no power for the gravity or lighting except what was the faint glowing of the blood on the creatures and walls, and from the fungus. Even so, nothing seemed to be able to prohibit the boarding parties from exploring further if they so wished.

Last onboard was Dr. Goddard, who was under a heavy personal escort to ensure his safety. As he stepped out of the Imperial Boarding craft and onto the ship he was hit with a heavy tidal wave of emotion and energy. Stunned by the psychic blow he bent over, his head screaming.
On the surface the message was clear.


An all powerful, all consuming hunger.


But below it was something else. Something intelligent.


And then, instantly, he understood.


*