The Rebel Faction

Trachta stood there quietly as he watched the situation play between Gevel and the officer Trachta had bullied into taking him here. He was interested in how Gevel dealt with the situation as well as Trachta's presence. Then Gevel turned his attention to Trachta after getting rid of the officer with a slightly more merciful punishment than what Trachta had threatened the officer with if he hadn't taken him to Gevel in the first place.

“And you,” Gevel said, glaring up at Trachta. “Whatever weight you may think you have because of your allegiance to the Imperial Security Bureau means nothing here, and I don’t appreciate you man-handling my officers.” Gevel rubbed his hands over his face, whispering ‘@#%$’ under his breath. “This is getting more complicated, and I didn’t want anyone else involved. But, you’re here; you might as well sit in.”

Gevel then gestured to the man next to him. “This is Commander Drif. You’ve heard of him, I assume. Our guest will be here in a moment; listen, and don’t speak.”

Trachta looked over at this wouldbe defector, Commander Drif. It did look like the man had been through a lot which comfirmed the report Trachta read on Mechis III. The man had a look of determination on his face which made sense if this man was one of Drayon's much more loyal officers. Gevel had made it clear from the way he addressed the newly arrived ISB officer that his power was nothing here. Trachta, though, would not have his authority waver to another Commodore of the New Order when it involved the security of the Empire.

"You shouldn't fret over the arrival of any others. I believe only the Bureau has the authority to dispatch an officer to monitor this situation. Either way, I am, as I said, only here to observe unless I see otherwise, in which case I will speak and you can't do a damn thing about it, Commodore Gevel. I may hold no sway over you but don't think I can't make your life more complicated than it probably already is," Trachta said as he looked at Gevel.

"Either way you are stuck with me and the involvement of the ISB until this affair is dealt with fully, no matter what direction it goes in. So don't think you'll be getting rid of me after this meeting. I intend on seeing this whole thing through to ensure the safety and success of the New Order."

Trachta then stepped aside before Gevel could come up with a retort. Bhindi Drayson would be here soon and he now had the right vantage point to not only read Drayson's face but also that of Commander Drif. As far as Gevel went, Trachta wouldn't bother since the man's files in the ISB had him marked as decently loyal though insubordinate at times. Now it was only a matter of minutes before things would start to unfold. Trachta wondered how this would all play out.

“ That is quite an entrance you have there, del Forza. Were I not already finished with my memo I would have you thrown into the street with the assurance you would land on your arse.”


An ominous chortle found its way from the depths of the Imperial Grand Inquisitor’s throat, the very prospect of exuding laughter in any form doubtless causing a great vacuum in his bowels. If such was so he did not show it, rather keeping something of an arrogantly knowing smile on his face.


“ To the point, Baron Desaria, as usual. No doubt the result of your desk-bound tenure.”


“ If I remember the last time we met, I was not behind a desk and your minions were not idle, though I expected no less. The fingers of the Inquisitoriate can be found in every Imperial cookie jar.”


“ Many that are not, too.” The Corellian chortled again and moved to a chair set up opposite one of the most senior-ranking officers in all the Empire. From within his double-breasted crimson tunic he drew a pair of deftly-rolled Ravannah cigars, the absolute favorite of aristocrats galaxy-wide. After he had lit his own with a simultaneously produced igniter he offered the remaining one to his noble peer.


Desaria snarled imperceptibly to all but himself, though the scorn he felt for the Inquisitoriate as a whole was nothing less than renowned. Many an excellent officer had found himself reassigned to an Outer Rim listening post or simply executed for having the slightest misgivings of his on orders. The hope Desaria nurtured that when the Imperial Security Bureau and COMPNOR were all unified under the Grand Inquisitor and his department that such actions would cease quickly died: they did, in fact, increase. One of the many outstanding men removed from active service was Colonel Kyle Kamorn, Commander of the 3375th Imperial Army Regiment and close friend to the Chief of the General Staff. For questioning an order to assault a position that would yield at least half his men as casualties he found himself reduced in rank one day and accidentally deceased the next.


Despite his better thoughts, Desaria took the cigarra and used his own silver igniter to bring the cylinder to life. Its soothing aroma rapidly filled the room and slithered its way under the office’s double doors. In his mind, the Admiral could already hear his secretary gesturing wildly into the air in silent objection to the acquired smell.


“ I doubt you brought yourself to High Command to share with me a rare stock,” the Kuati gentleman stated, taking a puff of his gift and holding in suggestion.


“ Are you intimating I have an ulterior motive than simple socializing with an officer of the Imperial Navy?” The Grand Inquisitor put on an exquisite display of sounding indignant.


The Admiral’s face lost all emotion, negative or otherwise. “ Yes.”


Del Forza slapped a leg of his black breeches and smiled again. “ You are far too clever for me, Telan.”


“ We are on a first name basis now?”


The Inquisitor ignored the question and continued his mischievously evil game of taunting a man who loathed him. Trading off the smoking device from one hand to another he produced a folded flimsiplast which he skidded across the obsidian desk.


The Admiral unfolded it with both hands, placing his own in a near by ash tray.


“ A brief cover letter sent to High Command this morning from Grand Marschall Kaine. It would seem the Demosthesians are up to no good.”


It was the Baron’s turn to ignore the other and instead read over the synopsis. A series of four primary bland but important goals was laid out before him in no uncertain terms. That he had even been notified was odd as General Kaine – Desaria had never broken the habit of addressing his friend with his Army title – was the highest-ranking Imperial Officer next to the Regent himself. Any orders he issued were passed through High Command and before the General Staff as a courtesy so he would not have to bother with the mundanity of logistics and organization.


“ This means?”


“ Well, Desaria, the…contentment…as Chief of the General Staff is positively dripping from your every pore. I have issued orders for two Corps of my Inquisitoriate troops to prepare for a combat deployment. As formations down the battalion level they are new and have had no field experience being part of larger units. So, I have decided to accomplish two goals: one the Marschal’s, and the other my own. We are going to infiltrate the Demosthesian interior and eliminate some of their lesser industrial infrastructure and in the process give my men their trial by fire.”


“ I can only imagine what this has to do with me. Your men are not needed elsewhere and so do not fall under my authority.”


“ I was hoping you would come along for the ride. Consider a challenge. Neither of my Corps has a commanding officer.”


The silence that followed could not have been shattered by a superlaser at full blast.

Duro

A woman, slim, with dark hair and eyes that sparkled with intelligence, entered the office abruptly, looking like a person who had walked into the wrong room. She was scarcely more than a little girl, in the opinion of Theren Gevel, who immediately spoke up. “You would be Admiral Bhindi Drayson,” he said, not so much asking as stating it.

She nodded briefly, whatever boldness she may have had returning to her. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, swaggering in and taking a seat without being asked. In a very simple way, Theren could derive a number of things about her from this simple action. Bhindi Drayson was young and cocky, out to prove herself by any means necessary. She had received fame, praise and attention because of her association with her father, yet clearly sought to distance herself from him by her own deeds. In short, she was exactly what he had anticipated.

“I am Commodore Theren Gevel,” he said, adding, “and Governor of the Bastion Conclave.” He gave a tired glance at Trachta. “This is Commodore Trachta. He’ll be sitting in on our meeting. And this, of course, is your own Commander Drif.”

She nodded to Drif, giving no indication of any personal relationship. Nor had Theren expected any more of her. “Now, the good commander here fell into the hands of the Empire purely by coincidental means. We’ve treated him as an honored guest, as he can tell you – and you are free to take him back.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, Commodore,” the woman replied, “Why exactly was this meeting necessary, then? Why not just send him back on a shuttle when you found him?”

Theren pondered the question for a moment, apparently taking his time to devise a proper response. In truth, it was all posturing; he’d played out this meeting a million times in his head, and every word, glance, and action had been carefully planned. “There have been… extenuating circumstances, Miss Drayson. Aside from the fact that an intergalactic incident could have been very possible, I have reason to believe that Commander Drif would be in grave danger, were I to return him to you.”

Drayson sneered. “It’s neither your position nor your right to determine what is best for my officers.”

Theren looked casually at Drif. “He knows, Bhi – Admiral.”

She glared back at Gevel, scowling slightly and locking gazes with him. “How much do you know, Commodore Gevel?”

Theren shrugged. “More than you think.” It was at this moment that the intelligence work of the Conclave Executors and the Conclave itself would have to come into play. Theren was well aware of the time-critical nature of the mission that had fallen abruptly into his lap. They’d triangulated what Drif’s approximate position would have been previous to his jump to Duro, and searched the wreckage of the few vessels he’d managed to damage during his fight and subsequent flight. There, they’d found logs pointing to a Star Destroyer by the name of Korolev moving into the Borlaeis system. What, exactly, it had been doing there had been utterly irrelevant. Falsified logs and documents had been quickly concocted using the format and encoding found in the wreckage of Drif’s Skipray Blastboat.

At this moment, it came down to delivery. Manipulation. Kaine had advised Theren to investigate the truth behind the senior Admiral Drayson’s death, but in reflection, such a thing was pointless. Let the girl believe what she wanted to believe, and hate the Republic for it. If the truth of his death favored their cause, then it would be used; if not, Theren would have lied. So why bother?

“I know that Demosthesian High Command has been moving those who sympathize with the Empire’s cause away from the core. I know that they have been severing ties with the Empire. And I know that Commander Drif has found proof that the Demosthesians have been associating with the remnants of the New Republic.”

Drayson continued to scowl. Theren continued to speak.

“We found the exact position of Drif’s battle, and searched the wreckage at the scene. What we found was… disturbing.” Theren paused. “We learned of the Korolev’s movement into the Borlaeis system, as I am sure you somehow have – Commander Drif has told me about your ongoing investigation into this matter. Like you, we were curious as to its business there.”

Theren pulled several pieces of paper from inside his desk. He preferred to use the antiquated form of data storage as often as possible, especially in cases of forgery – it seemed so much more genuine, when in truth it was as easily falsified as a datapad. “I assume you know who this man is,” he said, pointing to a picture of a ruggedly handsome man, late thirties, with dark hair.

“Kasien Treseda,” she said, without missing a beat.

“Yeah,” Theren acknowledged. “Kasien Treseda, a former New Republic Intelligence agent, a current Ossan Intelligence Agent, and a friend of Gash Jiren. Both Treseda and Jiren, I would remind you, were on the bridge of the Twilight the day your father perished at the hands of the crooked and corrupt Jedi.” This stung, rather clearly. A powerful message, as Theren had intended. “Our intelligence on Ossus pointed clearly to his presence on Borlaeis, while the Korolev was there. This,” Theren said, tossing another sheet of paper onto the desk, “is a Ossan Shuttle Transport record of his departure for the planet. These,” several more sheets of paper, “are copies of documents from the destroyed craft Commander Drif fought with many vague references to Treseda. And this,” one final sheet, “is a copy of a military briefing from onboard the Razor’s Kiss, naming one Commander Drif as a target for capture or assassination.” Theren pushed the stack of paper towards Bhindi. “Also found at the site of his battle.”

Drayson stared at the sheets of paper, clearly stunned by the monumental amount of information and proof to the contrary of what she would likely prefer to believe before her. Most of it was manufactured; but with the remnants of a Demosthesian ship in their possession, creating convincing forgeries had been fairly easy. “You see, Miss Drayson, there is little doubt left in my mind that, not only is the Demosthesian Empire associating with agents of the New Republic, but it is actively targeting Imperial sympathizers who might object to this shift in policy.”

Bhindi Drayson stared apprehensively at the sheets of paper. “This all seems a bit too convenient, Commodore. How do I even know that you’ve been to the site of that battle, never mind –”

Drayson was abruptly cut off as a jagged hunk of metal landed on the desk before her. In the center of it was a plaque.


“I am not playing games, Miss Drayson,” Theren said. “You may take Commander Drif and return to Commenor, but I wash my hands of whatever becomes of you there. The Demosthesian Empire is becoming yet another tool of the Jedi – of the fiends who murdered your father.”

In the end, it truly was a masterpiece. A work of art taking into account the very soul of its audience, forgeries perfectly manufactured to gel with the stories Drayson would be provided with. She would never know that Treseda had flown to Ruusan for a routine system inspection instead of to Borlaeis. And it didn’t matter. The emotional reaction set forth by the mountain of evidence was simply too great.

It was a gamble, certainly. If it failed, the resulting incident would lead the Empire to war with the Demosthesians, and utterly doom and chance the New Order may have had to seize hold of the situation. But, he thought, and he vaguely remember saying something to the same effect to a young Captain Quinn at some sort of function years before, what the fuck did he care?

“I don’t know if I’ll be returning to Commenor,” Drayson finally said.


The message was concise, and more importantly, lacking in details, for security purposes.

<font size=1>Grand Marshall Kaine:

The primary objective that was discussed in earlier correspondence has come to fruition. The child has been severed from the parent.

I will mobilize whether or not I receive a reply. I suggest you do so immediately, also. Timing is of the essence.

This is what we’ve been waiting for. Best of luck.

Gloria Imperium
Commodore Theren Gevel
Bastion Conclave Governor</font>


Centerpoint
“Staging Area 1”

Theren walked slowly through the massive interior city that marked the heart of Centerpoint station. It was like a planet unto itself, secured within the belly of a great steel beast. There, near the core of this city, were the gathered forces that Kaine had mentioned. They now mobilized rapidly, setting themselves off through the magnetic containment field.

Outside that blue energy field lay hundreds of swarming ships against the backdrop of space. Barely visible behind them was the massive Zenith, Theren’s flagship. Behind it still were the dark-gray vessels of Bhindi Drayson’s Black Fleet.

The operation they were launching would the one of the largest since the Battle of Bastion. It was a critical mission, upon which rode the future of the Empire. Drayson would lead them into the heart of the Demosthesian Empire, and there they would strike, wiping their rebel sentiment once and for all from the galaxy. Once – before the Battle of Bastion, what seemed like centuries before – there had been whisperings of a plan to be executed from that station, to do the very same.

It had never come to fruition. History, it seemed, would now be rectified. “Sir!” Shouted one of the soldiers, a corporal by rank, as he rushed across the floor. “What are you doing here, sir?”

Theren smirked slightly. “Just soaking in the nostalgia. Get back to your unit, Corporal.”

The soldier was right; he shouldn’t have been there. But something had drawn him to that place, if only to see if before they left for Commenor. Perhaps it was the spirit of commanders much more experienced than he, and the grand plans they’d once sought to carry out. Once, before the Battle of Bastion had brought all that to a crashing halt.

In more ways than one, history would be rectified. The Empire would be returned to its former glory, even if it was only to a shade of it at first.

The commlink at his waist buzzed. It was Tornel. “Commdoore, You’d best catch a ride aboard. We are leaving immediately.”

Commenor

The Zenith fell out of hyperspace in the Commenor system without pomp or ceremony. Beside her were the combined forces of the Black Fleet and the Empire, already in attack formation, as they had been before the jump from the Corellian system. “All vessels ahead at maximum synchronized power, and have the Vigilance begin to power up her Interdiction fields,” ordered Theren. Though, really, the command had been rehearsed and planned; there was no need to give it.

A small siren went off, as hostile activity was detected. “Scan the system,” Theren ordered. “Check enemy placement against the intelligence we were provided.” Several officers in the sensors pit bustled to comply.

In a few moments, one of them said, “Scan complete. Five percent discrepancy – the reports were as accurate as they possibly could have been.” Before them, out the viewport, the subjects of the scan could be seen rather clearly; the massive vessels of the Demosthesian Empire, only vaguely organized, strewn about the system on a variety of patrols. None were in the direct path of the primary battle group.

Already, a second, smaller group of vessels had jumped in on the other side the system – beyond the furthest reaches of the planets, well out of sensor range. The Interdictor Vigilance had jumped into the system ahead of them, directly into the area encompassed by the planetary orbits. Only a few clicks from the Vigilance, as predicted, was a group of four Star Destroyers and support craft on a routine system sweep for any sort of illegal vessel.

“The Vigilance is reporting initial shots exchanged, sir,” reported the communications officer.

“Have her TIE Defender escort fire a round of torpedoes and engage,” Theren replied. The Defenders, possessed of their own hyperdrives, infinitely outperformed TIE Devils and Fighters, in his opinion, especially given their ability to enter a system independently. “And finish powering up the Interdiction field.” Across the system, to the right of Commenor’s sun, the four Star Destroyers and Interdictor were vaguely visible.

“Interdiction field ready, sir,” the communications officer reported again.

“Relay the coordinates of the Vigilance to Battle Group Beta, and have them micro-jump towards them, as rehearsed,” Theren commanded. Seconds later, a great number of vessels could be seen, pulled safely out of hyperspace after a jump that would have been otherwise too small to be possible, surrounding the Vigilance. “Order them to open fire,” he said.

“Sir, three Star Destroyers are headed towards us.”

“Move to engage. Attack pattern Commenor-3-Gamma, and forward those orders to the Black Fleet.”

The moment he had awaited had begun. And Theren was not prepared to even slightly miscalculate.

So much depended on it.

Approaching Zero Hour…


Enroute to Despayre through old Rogue Empire shipping lane via Togoria.


Aboard the Galactus.



The link between the Victory and Galactus was strong. In the planning room, Simon Kaine watched the fleet’s status minute by minute.

“The shield ships are holding.”

“Barely” came back the response from Admiral Chandler.

“But holding.” Kaine finished, grinning. He stared out at the swirling lights of hyperspace outside the viewports.

“You know, Ibren, the more I think about it, the more that Tilrac Birel’s stupidity of the ‘New Empire’ was perhaps the best thing that could ever happen to us. That the Wrath Virus was the best thing that could have happened to the Empire.”

“Because of what we can take advantage of now?”

“Exactly!”

“The audacity of Imperial Intelligence .. of Isard.. was great indeed but I do not see how she could hope to sway the entirety of the Rogue Empire quickly.”

“There was no need for her to act quickly, Simon. At least not before Endgame which was when this plan was put into effect. She effectively controlled the Empire through Exercon almost as thoroughly as she controlled the High Command before Coruscant fell to the New Republic shortly after Palpatine’s death. Before ERO and the Sith took it over, however, briefly.”

“So she moved at the Empire’s largest competitor for control. I have to admit it Ibren. I am impressed. It was the tightest operation carried out by Intelligence by far. Isard earns her reputation well it seems.

Living under her father’s shadow… under her father’s curse.. under his taint, she strikes out to erase his memory.”

Simon sighed. “Just like me..”


“We are the pawns of the earlier generation, eh Simon?

Draysons father’s dead hand is forcing her action splitting the Demosthesians in half. Your father’s dead hand gives you the position and power to bring into being actions to take advantage of the situation. Isards father’s demons drive her to excel in ways that even we dared hoped for giving us the tools to take advantage of the situation.”

Simon grunted. “Makes you wonder about Theren Gevel’s father doesn’t it?”

Chandler grinned, “perhaps the man died in his sleep. Happy and satisfied with his days.”

“Now there’s irony for you.”

“So you think Jutraal will go ahead and do that?” Chandler suddenly asked bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.

“The Jutraalian Empire was created by the Empire, though telling that to it’s citizens and generals would be useless. Chaddwick Fearsons created the Rogue Empire. It was the Rogue Empire that interfered with Fondor and the Freedom Guard Corps destruction. It was the Rogue Empire that entered the Dark Alliance only to betray us at Dantooine.

Was there ever a doubt that the Empire would strike back?”

“Except while the Military Command destroyed the symbol of Rogue Empire’s power, their version of the Death Star, Imperial Intelligence struck at it’s head.

We may have taken the heart out of the Rogues but it was Isard that chopped off it’s head.”

Kaine sighed, “You know, it’s funny, Ibren. No one, not even I stopped to question the change in Rogue Policies, hell the change of their Empire as a whole. Jutraalian Empire? Where the frell did THAT spring from?”






the past…. Just before the Empire Strikes Back Campaign ..

Krake’s Planet..


Ciscero walked behind the commanding figure of Ysane Isard. She was talking, “The Military Command is committed to the destruction of the Rogue Death Star. Even as we speak, Grand Admiral Hyfe, Admiral Drakiss are plotting to strike directly at Hoth.”

“So we are certain it is being built in the Hoth System?”

“Of course. The Shrouds were very effective in their task. But what worries me is General Kaine’s operation.”

“You think he will guess your plans?”

Isard laughed again. “Simon Kaine? Oh no. The man is too timid to be sure, content to follow the lead of someone else. He is a man easily manipulated though he does have good tactical planning when it comes to matters of war and conquest. It is not the man I worry about but his plan.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it will directly affect ours. We cannot sneak into Despayre if their hyperspace route is blockaded by Imperial warships now can we?” Isard’s cold eyes bored into her agent.

“So we have to move fast.”

“Yes, he has yet to finalize his operation. There are reports of growing collaboration with the New Republic..”

“Gash Jiren?”

“Yes, No doubt he will also take a hand in ridding the galaxy of Fearson’s hidden ambitions.”

“Has it ever occurred to anyone that Fearson’s might be telling the truth?”

Isard laughed. It was not a pretty sound. “Has it ever occurred to you Ciscero that it does not matter what Fearson’s real intentions are? What he faces is the direct result of the image he has painted for himself.

The galaxy will not trust him nor his intentions with a weapon as powerful as a Death Star. And really, that propaganda bit about the Death Star being a station for peace.

Imagine that. The most powerful weapon in the galaxy the seat of peace? I swear Ciscero, the man should have executed his public relations people. Amateurs, all of them!”

Isard turned a corner and descended steps dimly lit.

“This is the climax of all Intelligence coups, Ciscero. You will NOT fail at this or I will personally have your head.”

“Maam, all I know is that I am to operate on Despayre during the war only to be extracted after peace is achieved.

So you think that the Empire will not bring down the Rogue Empire at this time?”

“No. I do not. Other factions are being brought into this attack but if you think those factions will stand by and allow the downfall of a power strong enough to check us, you are blind. Gash Jiren sees an opportunity in removing from Fearsons a powerful weapon but he’d be damned if he is going to allow the Empire to absorb the Rogue Empire and grow stronger eclipsing his own New Republic.

The Jedi are an annoyance but do not doubt that they too possess shrewdness. They are not fools. At least, some of them aren’t.”

“Then how will my actions on Despayre hold any lasting value Director? If the Empire will not control the Rogue Empire?”

“The Empire will not directly control the Rogue Empire, Ciscero. But we will reshape it. Reshape it to our own ends.”

They stopped before a large door simply marked “X”. Isard entered in an encryption sequence and the door slid open easily.

The room was dark but what little light that entered reflected off two small glowing red orbs.

“Your Majesty.” Isard said, bowing slightly taking Ciscero aback.

“Well…well. It is about time you recognized me for who I am!” a voice in the darkness snapped, irritably. The small red orbs turned in Ciscero’s direction and the agent felt his mind begin to prickle.

But only slightly.

“Ahh… you still have those.. those creatures around to block me. A shame. I am anxious to return now that I have satisfied all your fears. Release me now!” the voice was firm and commanding.

Ciscero’s ears detected a hint of familiarity.

The voice walked out into the light and the agent gasped.

“Emperor Fearsons!”


Isard’s eyes narrowed approvingly as the Director’s intent suddenly became clear.

“We call him ‘x’.”

But we will reshape it. Reshape it to our own ends!







.. The Empire Strikes Back…


“How do we get onto Despayre? It is not like they will accept an Imperial Transport?”

Ciscero grinned. “GDI Tranpsort. The GDI will be meeting with the Emperor on Despayre. We shall be a part of their entourage. You see, any hostilities that break out or if anything goes wrong, GDI will be the scapegoat.”

The red eyes narrowed. “So the groundwork for GDI destruction is being laid. Excellent!”

“We must hurry. The CIPs of the 256th left Muunilist already. We need to be past Togoria if we are to succeed!”





*




The Rogue Empire was in turmoil. Panic lined the streets as news of war broke out everywhere. Massive attacks reported on Jileeak Station! Hundreds or perhaps thousands of ships seeing action! A blockade at Togoria and at Yaga Minor!

The Galactic Defense Initiative thought to control matters by meeting with Fearsons himself.

Their hidden animosity for each other though was reaching new heights.


A spark is going to ignite! All it takes is one spark! thought Ciscero as he patted the rather long container that contained “Fearsons”.





*


The explosion tore through the wall rendering half of the GDI guards as well as the Emperor’s guards either dead or dying.

There was confusion and fighting, both sides not knowing what hit them or why.

The limp form of Fearsons lay before Ciscero and he paused. For a second but he paused for Isard’s instructions had been clear.

Out the new came and into the container the injured Fearson’s went. Mercenaries sporting medical uniforms threw a bloody GDI soldier’s body on top of the container and moved it like a stretch of sorts to the nearby shuttles.

Soldiers quickly entered and went to “Fearsons”, some pointing weapons at Ciscero.

“Leave me! Secure the outside ! Quickly!” was all the Emperor shouted as the words had been droned over and over in his head spilled out, before the man could think straight.

Even trained to obey at a moment’s notice they still hesitated but only for a second.

More explosions rocked outside as they left to do their leader’s bidding.

The glowing red orbs narrowed as he took in the reality of what he had spent a year learning.

He turned, his eyes flashing as the force began to surge through him the farther away the container went.

Ciscero knew the need for revenge was hungering inside of “Fearsons” but there would be time soon enough for that. He pulled out a weapon of GDI manufacture, his mask firmly in place. The mask that Isard always instructed him to wear even on the meeting of ‘X’.

By the time the Emperor regained his bearings Ciscero had shot him several times in the back, careful not to kill.

He went over and kicked the body over making sure it would be protected from one last explosion.


He threw a charge down some steps and gave him a few seconds to vacate.

He walked past the guards standing on duty so quickly that they reached out to stop him. An explosion inside threw debris at their backs knocking them over.

Ciscero ran to the GDI shuttles as they were leaving. . To one in particular.

If not for the confusion of the war they would have been caught. But for the civilian confusion all shuttles could have been identified quickly.

But explosions on the capital equated with an Imperial attack, especially with the war, that the civilian population, strung out on nerves as it was came unglued.

They knew they fought the galaxy and though they knew their Emperor would fight for them to his death only when explosions occurred on Despayre did their confidence in his ability to protect fade.

One against the galaxy!

They were Rogues and the Empire was coming for them!

So the Imperial Propaganda machine churned out and so they believed!






*



The smoke cleared, assessments made.

The Rogue Empire’s Military began to assert itself to control the growing tide of confusion.


Taken from the Propaganda Forum
Fleet Admiral Dakkon Blackblade stands aboard the flagship of an unknown ship in the Rogue Imperial Fleet. He looks distressed, but seems to be coping quite well. His dress and bearing, although academy perfect, shows signs of fatigue and wear as a cost of the war. He clears his throat slightly before stepping onto a makeshift podium to announce the future of the Rogue Empire.



"It is with much sadness that i announce that the great Emperor Chadd Fearsons is missing, believed dead. The circumstances regarding his disappearance are unknown, but the Forcelink binding myself and my Master has been severed. And such a severing can only occur through death, or something close to that.

Initially reports, although sketchy, indicate the benevolent Emperor was struck down by his adopted daughter Arai Heishi at the Royal Palace in Despayre.”


The people gasped at the news and began talking at once, each in their respective homes or businesses.

“Civil War?” someone, in some faraway district asked.

“I always hated that girl of a bitcch!!” another grumbled

“What about the @#%$ war!!” someone shouted on Averam.


As the longest serving member of the Rogue Imperial Fleet still on active duty, i am for the timebeing declaring martial law in all Rogue Imperial planets, and as such am heading up the effort to restore order in Rogue Imperial space.

But most importantly, as the interim leader of the Rogue Empire, i wish for a cessation of hostilites between any and all factions Emperor Fearsons has been at war with. With new leadership comes change, and as i understand that the New Order may wish to continue hostilities, concessions will be granted to ensure that they do infact cease hostile activity to all Rogue Imperial planets.

The Rogue Empire faces a grave challenge if it wishes to survive under an independant banner. But i will do all in my power to protect the most important asset the Rogue Empire has.


“What Tibanna Gas?” someone cynically joked.


Its people.


And there was a collective sigh of relief from many. As hard as it may have been to believe, the words did hold comfort.


Thus i will do all in my power to bring this conflict to a conclusion, no matter the cost in prestige or in any other arrogent trapings of any empire, so that no more men and women, of all races, alliegences, creeds and desires, suffer anymore of the hardships of war.

Thank you."

As he finished, it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Already the war had taken its toll on his usuall svelt and lean stature. Stepping of the makeshift podium, the interim leader of The Rogue Empire smiled, perhaps in the thought that this conflict may end. And soon...



*


Suddenly the comm chatter from all groups was cut out as a high priorirty diplomatic communique erupted from Rogue Imperial space. Where holocomms were available, the form of Fleet Admiral Dakkon Blackblade sprung up, fatigue evident on his features. Elsewhere, all they heard was his voice and as such he had to identify himself.

"This is Fleet Admiral Blackblade. As per my request earlier mourning the loss of the Emperor, i request a full cessation of hostilities.

Note that this is not an unconditional surrender. TRE is granting small territorial concessions to ensure the peace is maintained. Also, Jileeak will cease to function as soon as all troops leave. New Republic forces will be allowed to remain on board to ensure we donot attempt to use the station as they are neutral. As for GDI...

GDI can get the hell off my station.

Besbin has long been used to monopolize Tibanna gases, and i believe no such situation should exist again. As such, Besbin, if it is required to be surrendered in territorial concession making, will be ceded to Vinda Corporation, to ensure that none shall monopolise control of the Gas again. VC has long been regarded as the foremost among neutrals, and to ensure all factions in the galaxy recieve an uninterupted flow of Tibanna, they are best suited to having it.

Also, all Hapes Cluster planets are to be returned to the Cluster, as per the wishes of the Royal Family of Hapes.

As Jileeak is the cause of these problems, it will most likely be scrapped. Or, with galaxy wide assistance, the Superlaser can be rendered fully destroyed and Jileeak can then continue to serve as it was intended, as a diplomatic station. Either way we expect no external interference if and when Rogue Imperial High command do decide to do this.

TNO will NOT gain any access whatsoever to the station, due to the fact they intend to take it for themselves, and such a course of action i could not permit myself, as would no other sentient, to take.

If and when concesssions are granted, all Rogue Military hardware is to be taken with Rogue Imperial Forces as they evacuate.

While negotiations take place, i request that all fighters return to their hangars, as shall ours, and move well out of range. As should all ships. There will be a demarciation line between our forces to ensure no further conflict erupts while negotiations are happening."

Without further ado the comminique cut off, having completed its request.



The station was destroyed.

Vice Admiral Drakiss went missing.

Kaine’s fleet left Togoria.

Chau Ming’s Command left Yaga Minor.





*


“It’s been too long!” Isard fussed as reports from the war’s aftermath poured in. “And where the hell is Drakiss. Have we found anything of him!!?”

“We’ve found portions of his fleet but the destruction of Jileeak may have taken him with it.”


“Director! We are getting something!” an encryption specialist yelled.

Even Ciscero’s attention turned.

The speakers crackled.

Taken from the Propaganda Forums..

*there is a flicker as the Rogue Imperial spokesman for the Rogue Empire comes to*

We have an update as to Emperor Fearsons's condition. After two days of critical condition, the emperor's heart rate has finally returned to normal. It must be dismissed that the emperor's adoptive daughter, Arai Heishi, is behind this. Admiral Blackblade has jumped to a speedy conclusion in an attempt to reprise his dying emperor, but we must not overlook facts.

The Rogue Imperial War Congress has offered a truce to the Empire. Concessions shall be offered, but the turn over of Rogue Imperial territory is non-negotiable. The war was fought over Jilaeek, which is being turned over. Citizens are not negotiable.

The Galactic Defense Initiative's demands are deemed unreasonable, and shall be dismissed as terrorist threats. Especially since Emperor Fearsons's current condition's evidence points directly to Galactic Defense Initiative assassins, Admiral Drayson specifically. After his visit, the emperor's condition drastically fell, and several Initiatie troops have been found amidst the Rogue Empire's royal palace.

Tibanna Gas trade is to be reopened throughout the galaxy, and this pointless conflict is to be ended. There is no reason left to be fighting. These lies of corruption, deceit, and murder are just that, lies, and until those stating these lies has any basis for their arguements it is requested that they cease.

The Rogue Empire acknowledges its current defeat in the Imperial-Rogue Imperial conflict. It is requested that Imperial and Republic forces meet on neutral ground to discuss a peace treaty.

Emperor Fearsons cannot attend as his condition is still mildly critical. That is all.





A cheer rang through Krake’s Planet that day. The coup had been peformed successfully. A coup like no other.


Isard’s eyes shined with glowing anticipation.



“They made peace, Director.” Ciscero acknowledged, bowing to his superior.

Isard’s colored eyes flashed with the satisfaction of success and an increase in her own power base. “Now GDI shall fall..”

“Eliminate those that might shed light on what has happened?”

“A rule of any intelligence handbook.”


“So what happens now?”

“The power structure of the Rogue Empire changes. The way is left open to topple Despayre by moving the capital of the Rogue Empire.”

“Where? Why?”


“Because we are now going to distance Fearson’s Empire from what he envisioned and shape it to be ready for … for us.”

She turned to her agent. “Ever hear of Jutraal?”


Ciscero frowned, his mind reaching into memories. “No.” he admitted.


“You will…”




*


Taken from Propaganda Forum…


The Jutraalian Grand Inquisitor is found behind a podium, his typical guards flanking him. The symbol of the Jutraalian Empire has faded, leaving low lights to illuminate the officer.

" As the galaxy is aware, the former Emperor of the Rogue Empire and now Emperor of the Jutraalian Empire, His Majesty Lord Fearsons, has been ill for some time.

" Such, however, is a misnomer.

" He has been ill, but not from a natural disease. He has been recovering from a wound. A greivous wound to be precise, inflicted by a nearly successful assassin.

" This method of killing was found to be unique, and very commendable. A Kaminoan dart was fired from close range at Emperor Fearsons.

" The rogue and dangerously idiotic man has been identifed, and traced by (Jutraalian) Imperial police to the planet of Eriadu.

" Thusly, as said planet is not within the sphere of influence we demand his capture extradition from those responsible for this planet's rule and care.

" This is the Galactic Defense Initiative. If this criminal is not handed over without delay, the Jutraalian Empire foresees no alternative than to take him by other means.

" Know this, galactic citizens and those of Authority. Those withn our sovereignty have a high sense of honor and integrity, despite such propoganda and opinions to the contrary. A new era has dawned, as has a bolstered sense of duty and honor.

" We shall not stand by and allow the would-be murderers of our leaders to escape into the safety of a rival. If that means smashing down the brricades of territorial distiniction, then so be it.

" Victory may lie with the most powerful...

" But Justice rests in the talons of the those most dedicated."

The image faded and the symbol of Jutraal adorned the screen once again.



*





Kaine laughed at the memories.


Shape the Rouge Empire to acknowledge Imperial Power. Shape them into something desiring honor and duty.


“The Viscount works for us.” He said to Chandler. “The assimilation could not happen immediately because the people would not immediately accept it. And it would not be a choice they would make naturally. We ARE their natural enemy.

They had to be slowly convinced that the Empire is the stronger and the Empire would have to conquer them. Wrath hurt them as well as us but we recovered quicker. But even we were held at bay with Demosthesian-Jutraalian alliance. Even if this ‘x’ opposed the Demosthesians, his officers would make the treaties.

But if we conquer the Demosthesians and Jutraal separately, the truth is unequivocally planted in their minds that their destiny is with the Empire.”


Chandler chuckled. “They’ll turn to their leader for support not knowing that he is of our design.”


Kaine smiled at that. “It does make you wonder what Isard did with Chadwick Fearsons though, doesn’t it? After Ciscero brought him back from Despayre?"


"That it does Marshall. That it does."


"Approaching Despayre System." the tracking officer called out.