If there is anything men want, it is power. Power to force his own will on others. Power to boss them around. Power to control lives. There is not a single being in the galaxy who doesn't want it. They may say they don't, but they lie. Every one wants it, every single individual. It is a deeply embedded instinct, one left over from when they were primitives struggling to survive, and like it or not, there isn't a thing you can do about it.

Now granted, the type of power desired varies from individual to individual. Some, like Palpatine, want to rule worlds without ends and have subjects beyond count. Others, like the mad Joruus C'baoth, prefer face to face sort. But it is still power either way.

If you teach a dog to eat nothing but biscuits and then hold a piece of meat in front of his face he'll snap at it; it's his instinct. It's the same with all intelligent species and power, if you give them a chance at some, they'll snap at it, even if they've been subdued and their own thoughts suppressed.

The more one gets the more they want. That's just they way it works.

Most individuals, however, lack either the ambition or resources to push beyond the early stages of a power craze. Both are necessary, and without one it's impossible to gain any more power. But those that do are extremely dangerous men.

One such man is Imperial Vice Admiral Kris Enfield.

"You will halt for three hours above the planet Serenno, where you will meet up with the twenty-fourth squadron of the fourth fleet, a patrol squadron that lacks the heavier battleships your squadron possesses. Then your two squadrons will join together and split up, half going to Bandomeer to reinforce Line Captain Kach Thorton," Gilford said that name like a saint, Kris noted, "and the other half will begin a patrol along the fringes of the Hydian region."

"If you don't mind me asking sir," he spoke up, "Why does Kach need reinforcements? I understand he already has quite a flotilla there already, and why are we going to patrol the fringes of the Hydian Region? It's not all ours yet."

"To answer your first question, twelve hours ago a Coalition Star Destroyer, Bakura class, showed up in the system and has been making Kach's job more difficult. He suspects that they're calling in reinforcements of their own, so he's called in some to assist. Your second question is actually related to the first. It appears that since the establishment of the ONyxian Commonwealth that the Coalitions been patrolling the area for pirates, smugglers, and other such filth. Now that the Hydian region is to become part of the Empire, it is time we take over their self appointed duty. Also, we have to get rid of any of their ships in the area, so they don't interfere with any more of our expansion.

"Shoot on contact with Coalition ships, and leave no survivors. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, I understand," he replied.

"Good. See to all the things I've said."

"Yes sir, I will."

Instead of replying, Gilford severed the holo connection and his blue figure began to fade. For a moment Kris was silent. Then he hesitated for a moment and slowly turned to the captain of his flagship, the Vindicator.

"Get the hyper drive powered up," he commanded, his voice soft and lacking the hard quality it usually possessed. "You heard the man. We've got to go."

Standard procedure was for the Commander of a flotilla to stay on the bridge during hyperspace jumps in case they hit an introdictor cone. However, the odds of that were unlikely, and besides, who really gave a damn about standard procedure? It was more suggestion than law, though you were supposed to treat it that way. At least, that's how Kris Enfield felt about it.

Long ago he had lost the patience to stay on his ships bridge during hyperspace jumps longer than half an hour or forty-five minutes. He didn't have the time. There were far more valuable things he could be doing, like reading on his datapad (he had a new novel downloaded onto it and he was eager to start). This jump was going to last for two and a half hours, then there would be the three hour break above Serenno, then another hour to reach Bandomeer.

Standard procedure was also to be on the bridge when taking on supplies or joining up with another group. But he wasn't really needed up there. The ships captain was a capable man, he knew that. And if he couldn't coordinate the efforts of twelve Star Destroyers taking on supplies then he probably wasn't fit for the job.

He had more than six hours to himself, and he wasn't going to waste a minute of it.

Standard procedure... Kris scoffed to himself, stepping into his cabin.

It felt good to him to finally be able to take off his uniform, to feel the cool air of the ship against his skin. On something as stuffy as a star ship, while wearing something that could retain heat as well as that thing could, it was truly relief to remove it.

Six hours, just him and the novel. There was his datapad lying on the bed now, laying on his bed where he'd left it this morning.

It looked like a damn good one, too. The novel, titled "Watchers," was about several men on a backwater planet during the last war with the Coalition, and so far had thirteen weeks on top of the Galactic News best seller list, and it didn't look like it would drop off anytime soon. He had payed ten credits to download it, a good sum of money, simply because his uncle, Griz, had recommended it to him.

Griz...

God damn it, knowing Griz, the captain of this ship, he'd probably turn things over to the ships Commander just so he could come see him. So much for quiet time.

Now don't get him wrong, it wasn't as if he didnt like Griz, far from it, he was as friendly and loyal a man as you could ever meet. It was just that the man could get extraordinarily agitating sometimes, rambling on and on about something he'd lived through (that man was practically ancient). He'd been a fleet officer way back at the beginning of Palpatines New Order, and was now almost 75 years old, ancient in his career line.

And to make things even harder on him, this was his second time going through it. Long ago he had risen up the ranks, proving himself a brilliant commander of the battleship school of thought. At his peak, he had been a High Admiral, being evaluated for promotion to Grand Admiral, when a Sector Fleet of thirty-three Star Destroyers in a sector he had supposedly "cleaned" of all Rebel activity were ambushed and destroyed. As punishment, he was demoted all the way down to Ensign. He was thirty five at the time.

For the past forty years he'd been slowly working his way back up, fighting a system made to stop him from being promoted. But despite him, he'd still managed to advance. He was a Captain now.

The first time, it had taken him eleven years to reach High Admiral. It had taken him forty to reach captain the second time around.

There, true to Kris's prediction, was a knock on the door.

With a sigh, he stood up, pulling his pants back up over the shorts he'd been wearing under them, and a dirty white T-shirt over his frame.

"You may enter," he called to Griz.

It was him.

"Hello Kris, what are you doing?" the man asked.

"Oh, I was just sitting down to read a data-book," he replied, careful to keep his voice neutral.

"The one I told you to read? About the moisture farmers on Er'kit?"

"Yes, that's the one."

Griz was still standing at the door. While he didn't really want to, it would be impolite to just leave the man standing there.

"Well, why don't you come in?" Kris asked.

With our lives we pay homage to those who have fallen. With out deaths we bring glory to the cause that all serve. With ever fibre of our beings we serve the Emperor; we bring Order to Chaos. We fight knowing we will die but this instills in us a great passion to die gloriously for we all know that no death in the service of the Empire is useless. The Kiss of Battle touched all of us at birth - so we stand united as brothers in war. We see our brethren in the next life and learn from the lessons of their deaths, we look with pride towards the generations which will succeed us knowing just as the glory of our fathers fuels our devotion, so shall ours inspire them.

Glory
Loyalty
Honour

These are the traits of the Guard. May all who stand upon her, may all those who fall within her, never forget that the Empire cannot die so long as we believe. It is thus we christen this warship Intimidator. May she bring Glory to the Empire and the Guard. Gloria Imperium!


Grand Admiral Desaria remembered all too well the dedication speech of his new flagship. The newest battleship in the Fleet she was one of only six - the powerful Conqueror-class. An entire armada could be ground to dust under her guns - there were few vessels in the inventory of any Power that could challenge her, fewer still that had even the remotest chance of victory. From bow to stern, the Conqueror-class radiated power. There were many who called the class excessive: to behold her titanic size and scroll over the copious pages of text regarding her specifications few could disagree. However, her purpose was to be excessive. A creeping gigantism was present in the design of Imperial battleships and the Conquerors were simply the latest realization of the dream of unparalleled supremacy.


A flight of TIE Defenders passed the bridge view ports, the lead craft wiggling its wings in salute. Such a difference - the TIEs were heinously fast, the Conquerors heinously slow. Easily outrun, not so easily outgunned Marshal Alexi Prem had said to a crowd of Moffs who objected to the series. After a demonstration of her power, the governors fell silent - Grand Admiral Desaria remained in the shadows of the meeting, smiling quietly to himself. The memory was a welcome one.


“ Admiral.”


Without thinking, black-gloved fingers caressed the arm of the command chair. Subconsciously, the Baron held in the breath he took - he savored the scent, flavor, the very essence of the air. To be sure there was no difference from what he inhaled no from the recycled oxygen his nose had endured for five months while campaigning in the Otellon Sector. This air, however, was from home. Otellon was so far removed from the Empire itself, filled with enemies the likes of which the Empire had to exterminate: they would not be conquered. It was the kind of war the Grand Admiral loathed, the kind he avoided. His Emperor had charged him personally with its execution so he could not refuse. Now, high above Commenor, the Grand Admiral was home. Everything smelled better in the Empire.


“Admiral?”


Baron Desaria turned, snatched from his reverie. “ Yes Captain - what is it?”


“ We have completed the final GDS test sequence. As of thirteen-twenty hours, Imperial standard time the Intimidator’s shakedown cruise is complete. We have been officially released by High Command - this warships is fully operational.”


He could not help but note a smile tugging at Captain Vorran’s lips though the junior officer would never admit it. Inwardly, the Commander of the Imperial Guard was smiling as well.


“ Very well Captain. Return us to formation and make all ships ready to jump to hyperspace: our destination is Praxis IV where you and Rear Admiral Tollsin will conduct maneuvers and bring the squadron into readiness to operate with its…latest addition. I must make for Coruscant - Grand Marshal kaine has commanded my presence.”


“ Very well, Your Excellency.”


The Grand Admiral stood and began a deliberate stride from the bridge. Midway down the catwalk he stopped and turned to where Captain Vorran was moving towards the newly vacated chair. “ oh, and Captain?”


“ Yes sir?”


“ Try not to have too much fun.”

The first thing that caught Griz's eye as he entered was an old holochess table. Now, the two of them were sitting at opposite ends of it battling it out.

And surprisingly, Kris was getting soundly thrashed. Griz used his more powerful pieces, his Queen and Rooks, to tear into his line of pawns. But it wasn't as if he didn't any surprises. He used a bishop to snag one of the mans own Bishops, which was immediately taken by a Rook. He, in turn, confident there was nothing in the area that could take it, took it with his queen. Griz immediately took it with a knight that had been standing behind a rook.

"Walked right into that one," Griz muttered loudly enough to be overheard before starting into one of his stories. "I remember using a trick like that on the rebels once. It was several months before Yavin, when I was still a High Admiral. I had... I believe it was three of those early Imperial Star Destroyers, five Victorys, and ten Carracks. And they... they had four Dauntless class Cruisers, four of those Mon Calamari Cruisers, a trio of Dreadnought heavy cruisers, a pair of Nebulon-Bs and four Corellian Corvettes if I remember correctly. Oh, and there was also on of those MC 80bs there as well. But anyways, I was outgunned pretty badly. So what I did was pull my Star Destroyers together in one big group, and their commander launched all his ships straight at me, sure that I was pulling them together because I was scared I'd lose.

So when he was halfway to my formation, I began turning the whole formation around as if I was going to make the jump to hyperspace. There was still a few hundred kilometers to us, and he sure didn't want to lose me, so he started his formation charging forward like a locomotive, diverting everything but the foward shields to his engines."

He stopped for a moment, and looked Kris straight in the eye.

"And that was when I unleashed my trap. He was only about sixty kilometers away when I sent my ten Carracks straight at him at full throttle, shields diverted to engines. Before he even saw them they were practically on top of them and opening up. They were chopped to pieces, between the Carracks and my main force of ships, which turned back to their direction and began opening fire. We didn't lose a single ship, though one of the Victorys and half the Carracks were in dry dock for a month after we reached a shipyard.

"Fascinated," Kris answered, feigning fascination with the story. He'd probably heard it, oh, two hundred times, each after Griz used that move in holochess, and he was still falling for it. Not that it really bothered him to lose. The faster he lost, the faster Griz would lose interest.

The old fool still hadn't figured out that he was losing on purpose.

He was really tiring of it. This losing on purpose was really making him bored with the whole game. He really had nothing to lose by going on the offensive. Hell, maybe Griz might even come up with a few new stories.

Yeah. Like that was going to happen. He must have heard them all at least two hundred times.

Still, it wouldn't hurt going on the offensive, getting back into the game.

It was his move. Wearing a neutral expression that many said he never took off, he moved a pawn foward a space and Griz's Queens line of fire.

For a moment the old man looked at it, and moved a hand towards his queen. Then, he saw that taking the pawn would allow Kris's remaining Bishop to take the Queen clear from the other side of the board.

"Nice try," he told the younger man, moving a Rook back to his side of the board.

Not quite... he thought to himself.

He moved it foward another space, two spaces from his opponents side of the board. If he could get the pawn there he could change it to a queen, and with his queen back...

He moved it foward again, and Griz smoothly moved a rook, the one he had pulled back a few turns ago, right in front of the pawn, preventing it from moving to the last row.

He had seen what he'd been doing all along.

"Nice try."

"Apparently not nice enough."

For a moment there was silence on both sides of the table.

Imperial City, Coruscant


Coruscant was not known for its lush fields or wide-open spaces as the Ministry of Travel said of other worlds. Some said that unused space was the ultimate symbol of wealth on the capital-planet, others thought it was the presence of florae. Children of minor officials or civilians without political connections or high-born positions could only dream of mounting a gizalle and riding around under a mitre-cap batting at a black ball with a long stick; for the students at Eton, whose parents were the most prominent in the Empire, it was an extra curricular activity attainable by the affixing of a name to an application-roster.


“ Goal by Eduard Saint-Cyr.”


The monotone voice of the droid-announcer annoyed some while it thrilled a tall man seated in an elegant reviewing stand near the middle-court marker. Abandoning the composure of his class he stood and let out a tremendous whooping sound that turned many faces from the game. Gloved hands came together and clapped wildly as a young man rode by, his bipedal mount trotting along underneath him. The rider rose the stick to his face in salute only serving to amplify the clapping. Some may have thought the older gentleman to be acting immaturely at such a refined sport but no parent could find fault with a father’s delight.


“ Your son is playing well, Marshal.“


Michel Saint-Cyr continued clapping but the crescendo of his excitement ebbed so much that it became imperceptible among the polite praise of other gathered parents. The box was interrupted by a woman of average height who even after twenty years’ service to the Emperor had not lost a bit of her…desirability. The broad red stripe of the General Staff ran down each pant leg of her jodhpurs, an insignia identical to Saint-Cyr’s sat upon her breast.


“ Madam Marshal, to what do I owe the pleasure?”


“ I don’t wish to distract you from your son’s game.”


Saint-Cyr stopped clapping and sat down into the hand-crafted chair in his booth. Almost as if waving her off he gestured to the seat at his side - a seat that had been empty for far too long. “ Madam Marshal, if we speak now you will not take away the time I wish with my spend with my son at the conclusion of this match. So let us speak now while the issue is in question.”


“ As you wish. You just returned form the Hydian Campaign - I am slated to enter that zone in a week and I wanted your honest opinion; what is the state of things.”


The male Marshal of the Empire thought for a moment, never taking his eyes from the game which had now shifted its focus to a clashing of attackers and defenders on the visiting team’s end of the field. Beyond the transparent net erected at the field’s perimeter the towers of the capital could be seen rising into the clouds as if trying to kiss the sky while craft of all kind rushed about inside buoy-marked travel lanes. Michel turned his attention back to the game.


“ The work is not as hectic as expected. Native armies are large but ill-equipped and even more miserably lead. As much as I am loathe to discredit all enemies on the basis of one, I don’t think it too forward to amount one of our field divisions to an entire army of theirs. It is a campaign being waged and won by Major-Generals and orbital-bombardment coordinators. We Marshals are….unneeded.”


“ And our primary problem?”


“ Not enough platforms with which to orbitally bombard. Too few Destroyers have been committed.”


“ Well, I will speak with Marshal Prem - he can allot some more to the effort.”


The game was won by a single goal, some might say masterfully executed others might say lucky. Eton’s team rode past for a brief review by the throng of parents in the stands. Marshal Assaye looked at the younger Saint-Cyr than back at his father and then down to where some younger fans were gathered.


“ You know, Michel, your son is quite handsome. Not quite as handsome though, as you were. Of course,” she looked down at where some scantily clad females stood gawking, their sole purpose to cheer and incite,” it has been some time since you rode one of those. And I was able to fit in those…uniforms.”


She disappeared, her back gazed on one final time by the aging male, both remembering their own terms there, so long before.

2 hours until the real space reversion above Serenno

Without a sound of anger or even a swear word muttered under his breath, Griz confessed he had been beaten. Instead of turning over the table, like many men would do after being suddenly beaten after dominating nearly the entire game, he stuck his hand out and shook Kris's, congratulating him on his brilliant, seemingly impossible victory.

"You know," Griz began, looking off into space, "Years ago I wouldn't have understood how you beat me. Back when I was a High Admiral, I was an old school kind of commander. I was a firm believer in the battleship school of though. Big, Powerful, and Heavily armored. I believed they were invincible, and to a lesser degree, I guess I still do."

He squinted as if analyzing some non-existent landmark in the distance and continued.

"I guess that still shows in my holochess strategy."

Kris nodded. Griz had always had a tendency to use his more powerful pieces, his queens and rooks, to tear his opponent to pieces. He, on the other hand, liked to use his more mobile pieces, his Knights and Bishops, to set up traps and corner opponents. Though of course he used his Pawns too. They were perhaps the most important piece simply because they were under rated by most players and accordingly underestimated.

"You know what changed my mind, about that though?" Griz continued, starting to sit up. "It was long after the battle of Yavin, long after I had been demoted to Ensign. It was during the Thrawn Campaigns."

Kris didn't recognize this story. Perking up, he began to pay closer attention to the old mans words.

"Thrawn was a brilliant tactician, and he did not waste resources. For the short time he was Ruler of the Empire, he brought me up to Admiral and gave me command of a task force consisting of four Imperial Star Destroyers.. One day, he ordered me to strike a Rebel planet, I forget which one though. It left me with my age. But anyway, part way there, we were ambushed. The rebels had a Loronar Strike Cruisers modified to carry a Gravity Well Generator. Not a very advanced one, our own were far better, but it was a start for them. But one moment we were travelling through hyperspace, and the next moment we were surrounded by a pair of Calamari Cruisers, six Dreadnought heavy Cruisers, and a dozen Corellian Corvettes. So my four ships opened up on them, and launched fighters. It didn't take long to disable the Calamari Cruisers, but the Dreadnoughts took a little longer. In this short time I lost track of the Corvettes.

"Shouting, I ordered my men to find them. But before their efforts bore any fruit, they found us. Suddenly, we came under fire, along with the the Star Destroyer next to us, the Dominion. They ripped into us, tearing our Starboard shields down before we managed to dispatch them. However, in that time the managed to destroy the Dominion. Thrawn was pissed as hell, and it was back to the crew pits with me. At that time, he only had thirteen Star Destroyers, though there were four more under construction, and he certainly didn't have any to spare. He almost had me shot, but like I said, the Empire didn't have much resources to draw upon and crewers for its ships were no exception. He let me live but stuck me back at the bottom."

Still staring off into space, Griz continued.

"They wouldn't do that to a man like I had been now. They might get demoted for something like that, but not as far as I had been. They wouldn't stick a man all the way back to Ensign. To Rear Admiral or Line Captain, maybe, but they would stick him all the way to the bottom.

"I think I got what I deserved, though. I really do, as much hardship as it has cost me over the years, it was only what was right."

With an undetectable sigh Griz turned his gaze back to Kris. His eyes were now hard and steely, a big change from the soft and almost senile eyes he had bore a minute ago.

"You know, Kris, sometimes I think that the Empire is becoming watered down. No, I know it, it's just that I try to be a good little Imperial and convince myself otherwise. Sometimes I do, for an hour or two, but then the truth seeps back into me. I can't ignore the feeling, I can only ignore it and try to push it away and bury it in the furthest corners of my mind."

He paused, and his voice took on an very rough quality.

"I've done that for almost twenty years now, pushing it to the back of my mind. I first knew that it was true when we had been pushed back to the outer rim, when our capital was Bastion and the Empire had less than a thousand systems under it's control."

Kris nodded, he was familiar with that period of the Empire. He had considered majoring in it when he studied at the Imperial Officer Academy, and decided against it, instead majoring in the Galactic Civil War and Thrawn era since his professors took a dim look on him studying such a dark period of Imperial history.

"It never would have happened if the Empire hadn't become watered down as it's territory gradually eroded away. If Pellaeon had enforced strict, pre-Yavin discipline like I suffered under and kept the old values, such as anti-alien prejudice, it never would have happened."

Kris looked at him, appalled by his reference to racism.

"Back at the New Orders beginning," Griz scorned Kris, "Palpatine encouraged racism against non-humanoids. Over the years that fell away, much of it during the Thrawn campaigns when the Imperial government and Navy got to see just what non-humans were capable of. Now look at us. We employ aliens," he said the word as if just saying it made him want to rinse his mouth out, "On Navy ships. And, I don't know if you've heard the news yet, but out on the Mid-Rim Governor Kraken is trying to resurrect the Grand Imperial Fleet. And I'm sure you know what that is."

"Yes," Kris stated, "It's a fleet made up of various alien Imperials worlds self defense forces, assembled more as a moral booster than an actual fighting force."

"Yes, but it's the principals of the thing. They're not human!"

"Griz," Kris started, "I get what you're saying, but it's wrong. Aliens, while not as psychologically balanced as humans, aren't necessarily less than equal. They're just different, and that's not necessarily a bad thing."

"Diversity is perversity," Griz scorned. "You sound like you want the Imperial navy to become like the Coalitions. Made up of so many different races that it can't work without massive amounts of friction between them, where standard Imperial quality is a myth because of their unpredictibility and reluctance to work together."

"Griz..." Kris began, stopping. He had nothing to say to that.

“And because Freedom…” Andrew White trailed off in mid sentence as two squads of Stormtroopers marched out of the hotel and towards the podium with Kach sandwiched between them.

The shock of the emerging Imperials was enough to stop most of the crowd in their tracks. Not out of fear, but of out of curiosity of what was happening.

As Kach approached the podium his honorguard set up a pair of autoblasters on each side of him. These weapons weren’t for shooting at the crowd, but for shooting down debris thrown at Kach with their fast track technology.

Stepping up to the podium, the first thing Kach noticed was the size of the crowd, almost 100,000 beings and nearly thirty times the size of the Imperial supporters outside the Coalition Plaza. Of course, that was deliberate. While the crowds were assembling his agents had specifically directed Imperial supporters to the Senate hall and not the Plaza of the Rising Sun so that they would be visible to the Senators, giving them an effect far beyond their size. As a result, about 60 percent of the 125,000 Bandomeerian citizens outside the Senate hall were Imperial supporters, with more arriving every minute. Though the Coalition actually had more supporters, the fact almost all of the Imperial supporters were there meant they had a far stronger influence even if they were outnumbered.

But for now, at least, his focus was here and now. Leaning into the microphone he began to speak.

“People of Bandomeer,” he called into the microphone, “I have emerged to inform you about the lies this man has been telling you.”

“Lies?” the crowd shouted, “Freedom has no price.”

A few rocks were tossed towards Kach, but the autoblasters elegantly shot them out of the air with low power laser bolts.

“I listened to Mr. Smiths speech. He listed many freedoms. Freedom of Religion, Freedom of Speech, and Freedom from hate, intolerance, and racism.

“One thing he didn’t say, however, was that too much of a good thing is not good at all. I assumed that Bandomeers citizens were smart enough to know this on their own, but apparently I was wrong.
“The Empire gives you the exact same freedoms as the Coalition does, just with a few limits, to prevent weakness from seeping into the Empire.

“These abundance of rights in the Coalition causes weakness, and in addition the hatred, intolerance, and racism that he stated so boldly that the Coalition was against. The truth is, that right now, and for almost the entire history of the Coalition and the New Republic that preceded it, the member worlds are at each other’s throats. Since the founding of the New Republic it has been like this, and the Coalition is carrying on the tradition. At many points, the New Republic nearly broke up because of this.

He paused a moment.

“Another Freedom he conveniently forgot to mention was the Freedom of Peace. Lately, the Coalition has been threatening war with us, such as in their state of the Coalition speech earlier this year.”

The crowd muttered as they remembered the Coalitions Prime Minister all but declaring war on the Empire.

“In addition, as of late they have been running a bloodthirsty campaign of expansion, often using underhanded tactics.

He paused once more.

“Peace. Isn’t that what you want most of all? Well, if you join the Coalition that is one thing you most certainly will not get. They want war, not peace, because it suits their goals.

“And if you joined the resource hungry Coalition, in the event of war their Congress would lay down tax after tax upon you as they conscripted away hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of your younger men and women. The Empire, on the other hand, is larger and doesn’t need to draw so deeply under the same circumstances.

“In addition, you would never see those young men and women you sent off to war with them. In the event of a full-scale war they would be gradually pulled back to defend more important worlds as less important ones fell, and many would get killed in the process. Then, when the Empire launched its final offensive, they would almost certainly be killed.

“If they were serving with the Empire, the far smaller number of you citizens would be returned to Bandomeer immediately after victory is achieved.”

The crowd was now muttering among itself.

“Another lie,” Kach continued, “That Mr. White claimed was that you would no longer be able to enjoy the rights you enjoy now if you joined the Empire. That is a complete lie and he most certainly knows it.

“The truth is, as of late the Empire has never been freer. Freedom of speech, press, religion, and assemble are all guaranteed. Now granted there are some limits. For example, you can’t speak out against the government and the press must pass all stories by the government, but this is not out a hate of freedom but are safety measures to stop weakness at its source. As I stated earlier, too much of a good thing is not good at all and freedom is no exception. Too much freedom causes weakness, and weakness is one thing the Empire is most certainly against.

“Another thing that I mentioned earlier was how the Coalition had begun using underhanded tactics to achieve its goals.

There was nodding and shouts of, “Yes,” from the crowd.

“And I am sure you all have heard bout the so-called ‘Imperial’ Grenade attack on civilians at the Plaza of the Rising Sun earlier this morning.”

There was more nodding and “Yes’s,” but this time there was also another call of “Get on with it.”

“Well, what if I told you that the Grenade attack this-morning was not performed by Imperial agents, but by Coalition ones hoping to turn the crowd and if possible the rest of the planet to its side. And by all measures they have nearly succeeded.

“Yes, I will confess there were Imperial agents in the crowd, and snipers in nearby buildings in case they were discovered and had to make a fighting retreat, but they were under express orders to observe, not instigate, the crowd and to report on Coalition movements. Not throw grenades at them.”

Once again Kach thanked the whatever the galaxies true deity was that there was no footage of the grenades, and the fact that other than the two illegally obtained grenades the leader had, there was nothing to mark them out as Imperial agents.

“This is just another example of their cheap tactics, though this time it took place right on your doorstep. They hope that by discrediting us that you will join them and their underhanded, blood thirsty war machine. But instead of have doomed any hopes of them taking the planet peacefully.”

He paused to let his words sink in.

"Go home, people. The faction you support is a faction of underhanded, bloodthirsty liars. You do not want to join them. You might not want to join the Empire, but joining the Coalition would be even worse.

There was muttering throughout the crowd. He waited for the crowd to quiet down. Eventually, realizing he had more to say, they did.

Perhaps Neutrality would be the best course, perhaps the Empire. But one thing is for certain. Anything is better than joining the Coalition. Go home, people. Leave us and your bloodthirsty comrades in peace.

"That bombardment yesterday. The Empire is most sorry about it. I didn't want to do it, it's a beautiful planet you have, but that's what I was ordered to do. The exact same thing I'll be ordered to do if you join them. Please, I do not want to do such a thing. Last time a little boy was injured. Now, at my own expense he is being given the best in Imperial medical care. But next time, if there is a next time, which I hope there isn't, it won't be like that. It won't be hills surrounding your city's. The turbo laser bolts will land on your cities. Please. I do not want to do that. Go home. Do not force me to do it. Joining the Coalition will only make you receive even more of the same, and that is not something I want to do."

If Griz had seen the holo-recorded version of that speech, beamed off of Bandomeer via holonet, Griz would have fell off his rocker.

As he was lecturing Kris about the Empire becoming watered down, he could feel the feelings resurfacing, emerging from the deepest corners of his mind where he had locked them away long ago, like a good Imperial.

And now they were back. He was no longer just a New Order Man. He was a Palpatine era New Order Man once again. He was no longer a good little Imperial soldier, conditioned to obey orders without hesitation or a thought about himself, he was a free man again.

"I'm tired of it, Kris," he began, his voice strained, sweat starting to emerge from his pores as his body comprehended the actions he'd just done- and the punishments that could result if found out. Treason was punishable by execution still. That hadn't changed since the peak of the New Orders power.

"I'm tired of it," he repeated, stronger this time. "I'm tired of this slow crumbling of the Empire. Of being nothing but a bystander, being able to do nothing, not having a voice to turn the Emperors and Regents eyes to the fact. I'm tired of thinking of myself as the only person left in the galaxy who still holds the Palpatines and the New Orders old values dear. Of being able to do nothing but watch the slow decay.

"Now, my friend," he said to Kris, eyes cold and voice dark, "It is time to change all that. It is time to stand up. Time to take things into our own hands. Time to fight until we are dead or the New Order is restored to its former self and its former glory. It is time to take matters into our own hands."

He stopped to study Kris's reaction to what he was saying.

"Don't you see, my friend." his voice was once again strained, as it was earlier, "It is time to take matters into our own hands and fight."

"Now wait a second," Kris began, rushing his words, "What are you talking about. The men in charge of the Empire have always been doing what they though best, what they believed would...

"It does not matter," Griz interrupted. "It hasn't been working, whatever they're doing. Until just recently the Empire has only been growing weaker, and it doesn't seem it's using its lately gained strength very well. It can't even crush the squabbling Coalition, at least three times weaker than itself. If it can't do that, than what else can't it do? Can it defend its citizens from its enemies? Can it crush any rebellions that spring up withing it or from factions breaking off from it." He said that last sentence very forcefully, to give Kris and idea of what he had in mind without actually coming out and saying it. "No, Kris. The future is in our hands. We have the firepower, twelve Star Destroyers and fifteen assorted Heavy Cruisers. We have the opportunity. We have the knowledge. The current Empire is dying, Kris, and it is up to us to restore it to its former glory."

"Griz," Kris began, going once again into his spiel about treason and the such. But Griz tuned him out for the moment and smiled. Even if Kris didn't know it, he'd already won him to his cause.

21st Heavy Squadron
2 Imperial III Star Destroyers
2 Imperial II Star Destroyers
4 Aurora-class Star Destroyers
4 Victory III Star Destroyers
4 Illustrious Cruiser
4 Lancer Frigates

Shutting his eyes for a moment to rest them, he turned the page to a manifest of the 23rd Patrol Squadron that they'd be meeting up with over Serenno.

23rd Patrol Squadron

10 Tartan Patrol Cruisers
6 Assassin class Corvettes
6 Carrack IV class Cruisers

He looked at Griz. If is eyes were lasers he'd be burning holes straight through the elder man, who returned the stairs right back.

"You think this will be enough?" he asked.

Griz took a deep breath and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. "For the time being, yes. But if we plan to expand beyond twenty or thirty planets, we will need a lot more ships, some bought off the black market, some of our own design, and some outright stolen. This tiny flotilla, while heavy on the firepower side, doesn't have the sheer numbers to be our entire fleet."

"And where do you propose to obtain more craft from?"

"Well, like I said, the Black Market will be our primary source, though mainly for ships under 600 meters but some larger ones, like old Mon Calamari Cruisers are still available there. We could also raid pirate fleets and steal their ships, though that would tie up the fleet for a while. Our main source will have to be nationalized shipyards above some of the planets we conquer. Your run-of-the-mill civilian model isn't fit to build anything larger than a Corvette or light cruiser, but some of those above Denon, Svivren, and other large Hydian planets are sizable enough to build Star Destroyers on."

"And what would we be building?"

Stolen Imperial ships, what else? We don't really have the time to build new ones, unless they're heavily based on old technology, and then what's the point?"

Kris paused, his face making a dozen expressions before finally setting on "defeated." "I still don't like this whole idea."

"That's quite all right," Griz replied, "Hero's don't ask to be heroes, they are forced to work with the moment. It is the same way as us. We did not ask for the awesome responsibility of restoring the Empire to its true ways and former glory, we were simply given it. And I, for one," he curled up his right fist into a ball and began to hit the table with each word, "don't plan to waste the opportunity."