A Squelch of Empires (crossover)

[Singular Quartet]

I think the Commissar just met his match. Why the chain-sword didn't break on the lightsaber?

Cause it's made out of holyshitthatstoughium?

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Ah, it's yourself, I was beginning to worry that I had offended you in some way.

I'm not entirely convinced that he has met his match on anything like an individual basis; Ciaphas Cain is very, very good with that chainsword- a long space mile better than anyone else in the room, especially Jorian Lennart. In Star Wars terms he's up there with the top of the second rank, or the lower end of the very first rank of lightsabre fighters.

In a less embedded measure, he's probably exactly as good as Errol Flynn on top form. The situation is definitely not working in his favour, though, and the reason he's still alive is that the next thing Lennart intended to say was something along the lines of 'We need to head this off before it gets any worse.' He needs someone with the authority to sign an armistice. Blasters set to stun, and- quite simply, they don't have that many lightsabres to go round. And no, you can't stun Astartes through power armour, that's why the forcefield complex has them playing pretzel.

Engineering cutting torches, on the other hand, there are enough of. Usefully, they can be set to firm containment, in which state they behave like something like a training lightsabre, or a red hot blunt stick- painful, and capable of applying blunt trauma, but not instantly lethal. It was in 'beat him senseless and take him prisoner' mode, which is why the chainsword survived the encounter.

[Kartr_Kana]

Excellent chapter ECR. I was pretty surprised when Cain decided to go on the offensive, he's come across as more cautious and calculating then that. Plus the way Lennart delivered the news of the Empire vs Imperium actions and his actions prior to the revelations, he came across as willing to try and create an understanding between the two forces in the here and now.

On a side note with all the talk of boarding actions are we going to get to see any space trooper vs Astarte action? And if we do is a certain Space Trooper LT coming back

As always looking forward to more of your work.

[HSRTG]

I'm fairly certain Cain the other Imperium types took the revelation of shots fired as a sign of an impending backstab. Or ambush. Frankly, the Imperium is not good with diplomacy.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Cain is more cautious- at least has more of a survival instinct- than that, he wouldn't have kicked off on his own, but when you look at the actual sequence, it ran something like;

Deathwatch sargeant thinks, there have already been shots exchanged, he's making some sort of deal with the powers of chaos- he practically admitted it; subtlety is no longer an option, we have to disrupt the Empire's plans by killing him, and if we get killed in the process that's no more than our lives being fairly expended. Attack.

Caledonian sargeant thinks, (no accent, this is internal) well, leading the forces of chaos into a trap is a fine trick if it works, and considering what the wormhole group set out to do I'd be surprised if there wasn't some kind of clash, how it works out in the end depends on, he's doing what!?! Why is it always the lunatics they recruit to Deathwatch? He is a battle brother, I can't not back him up, I just hope we last long enough for me to tell him he's an idiot. Attack.

Ciaphas didn't really have time for metacriticism of his own actions, but it would have gone something along the lines of, there are no other command officers here, why is that? Is he intending to discuss things that he doesn't want his own side to know about- that man in the corner with the stick, I don't understand the symbols but he's not officer class. I have commissariat authority, so is he fishing for some sort of armistice here? Oh, frak. What are they thinking?
If I don't back up the marines, assuming any of us survive- ten thousand years is a long time to hold a memory, and they will remember. My reputation's going to be in tatters- not to mention that they'll probably try to kill me. I can hide under the table; no, probably not. It's fight or flight time, they're so lucky the commissariat's authority doesn't extend to the Astartes, I could cheerfully go for them myself over this, this is a bloody idiot thing to be doing, story of my career, attack.

So, basically, yet again, the self- confessed coward fails to find an opportunity to hide behind something and is forced to look heroic in the defence of his own reputation. You know, I'm with Amberley on this one? For whatever cultural reasons, he's so ashamed of his own bravery he refuses to admit it to himself...

[Kartr_Kana]

That makes a lot more sense, bloody fanatics will be the death of us all You said you had more already written ECR, any idea when we'll get to see the next bit?

[LadyTevar]

Ah, it's yourself, I was beginning to worry that I had offended you in some way.

If you're talking to me, any offense is only because you're not posting more in this timeline.

Otherwise, I've been reading at work, and the NannyProgram will let me view as Guest, but if I try to log in I get blocked due to the PM function. Can't have your Employees using IM/Pm/Chat at work, Now Can We?

[barricade]

I admit, I am highly curious as to what might happen if the Imperium really cheesed off the Empire, and the GE went 'screw you' and brought the Death Star into play - aimed at Holy Terra (and Mars).

Yeah, it'd be a slugfest to end all slugfests considering the firepower getting thrown around, that and the metaphysical parts as well with likely Vader and a couple of Sith 'apprentices' (aka: Palpatine's grunt level force-users) onboard. But if it got a chance to fire, took it, and hit....

Watch the Imperium quite literally implode.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

A Squelch of Empires ch 14

There are awkward moments, and then there are awkward moments. Being caught in the middle of trying to kill your host and failing miserably definitely ranks high on the scale, Lennart thought.
‘What do you reckon,’ he asked Aleph-1, ‘do you think we could kill the rest of him and keep his hat?’
The stormtrooper captain shrugged. ‘Nothing to lose by trying.’
The Imperial commissar looked bewildered for half a second, then figured it out- his own plan in reverse; important figures on the enemy side made for good hostages.

What plan would work? Grab Jurgen, run, alert the Marines and hack their way back in? Zero possibility of survival, some chance of completing the mission- if the mission made any sense at all. Surrender simply wasn’t a realistic possibility.
The commissar looked round wildly, for an air vent, a hidden accessway, anything that could get him out of here.
‘It is always the way.’ The farseer threw in her two thrones’ worth. ‘The Imperium fears the darkness too much to face it with open eyes, so it is always the blindest who sets the pace.’

There were angry rumblings from the deathwatch marine, what sounded like a suppressed chuckle of agreement from the Caledonian, and interestingly well feigned anger from the commissar.
‘So you’re suggesting that taking counsel of their fears is a matter of state policy?’ Lennart asked.
‘Nothing so organised.’ The farseer sneered.


‘What are you doing here, xenos witch?’ Andraste snarled at her.
‘Enjoying the novelty.’ She mocked him coolly. ‘It’s such an exceptionally rare experience to be part of someone else’s cunning plan.’
‘Does this plan have something to do with defence against chaos?’ The commissar guessed.
‘I happened to think a thought that caught their attention.’ Lennart said, much more calmly than he really felt.

‘It’s not simply a matter of policy, it’s a matter of fact- there is no peace with Chaos, now or ever. They can lie and seduce, make promises, but ultimately they want to devour you, material body and immaterial soul alike.’ The commissar warned. Was he trying to sound especially pompous for the record?
‘I can’t say I’m surprised by that, and a terrible pun comes to mind about it being entirely immaterial to me,’ Lennart said deadpan, ‘but I really wasn’t planning to try.

What we’re interested in is wards and barriers, and we have real ethical and administrative problems with depending on the worship of your God-Emperor, not least because there are hints in your own history that it’s far from infallible. The Eldar system may be better suited to us, and naturally they would expect payment- do you have a counter-offer to make?’
The astartes reacted with absolute horror. The commissar less so, but clearly in general agreement that it was an extremely dangerous idea.


The commissar was looking for an escape hatch, and for a moment thought he had found one. Panel on the wall; feinted towards one of the troopers, tried to get his blade past theirs and strike at the hilt of the borrowed plasma torch, the only vulnerable part and the easiest way to disarm them.
Get the trooper to retract back to guard position the chainsword moving ridiculously quickly for something with that much mass and momentum, flashing back to attack the trooper to the right of the one he was looking at; lashing out on instinct.

Containment field met adamantine chainsaw teeth, blunting and half- melting some but not cutting through the spine of the blade. A twist of the wrist back and under to try to catch the hilt of the glowing blade on the return stroke and destroy it; the chainsword connected, skittering along the stormtrooper’s forearm before biting into the emitter.
It flared and shut down- flash of light dampened by the force fields- and the trooper fell back out of the line, another of the twelve came forwards.


‘To be perceived as tolerant and open minded is to be dabbling on the shores of nightmare; to be caught actually being tolerant, rational, sensible and reasonable is to be in league with the powers of evil. If a fanatic points at something and calls “anathema”, who dare say otherwise?’ the farseer said, mockingly.
‘So, essentially, you’re saying that the commissar here, who damn’ well ought to know better, attacked me in order to back up the marines- is that fair comment?’ Lennart asked Cain.

‘How could I fail to support the holy warriors of the Imperium?’ the commissar said.
‘A willing mind could put a strange interpretation on those words, given that you still seem to be worried about your reputation. Seriously, given that you were doing this against your better judgement anyway and the people you were trying to support are now imitating wall hangings, you could just put your sword away.’
‘And you would simply let us walk out of here?’ the commissar said, not getting the politics yet.
‘We could maim you a little, if that would make you feel better.’ Lennart said, unable to stop his wit getting ahead of common sense.


The reaction to that was interesting; the commissar appeared to be seriously considering the idea. Although obviously deciding, in the end, not to go with it.
‘Thank you, but I prefer my insides in, and you’re not exactly convincing me that the Brother- Sargeant was wrong.’ He also glanced at the two wounded stormtroopers.

‘You’re right, I have to back up my people, avenge them if necessary; but stormtrooper armour’s tougher than that- nobody’s dead yet, vengeance has not become mandatory.
Strictly speaking, anyway, he might be right- they definitely tried to tempt me; got as far as making me a job offer.’
‘I knew it-‘ Andraste raged, and tried to spit glandular venom at the Imperial Starfleet officer; it was intercepted- hit an invisible barrier in mid air, fell sizzling on the deck. ‘Shoot him.’

‘A daemon once made me the same offer,’ Cain stated to the struggling marine, ‘I ended up blowing her to pieces.’
‘Did she have a battle fleet for backup?’ Lennart asked. ‘What they offered me was command of the task force that’s following hard on the heels of the orks. Of course, the alternative…’
‘Join us or die, ya bas?’ Fergus suggested.
‘For the forces of chaos, subtlety’s pretty much a last resort, isn’t it?’ Lennart agreed.

‘For the forces of the Imperium, subtlety’s a last resort.’ The farseer pointed out.
‘Ay, an’ your people did sich a magnificent job o’ resistin’ Chaos wi’ wisdom. Remind me agaain, why’s ra’ Eye of Terror where it is?’ The Caledonian marine taunted her.
‘You vat- bred, muscle- brained-‘ and the rest of the insult, or the curse, was in eldar; to which the caledonian marine replied in kind. She flushed, face going almost the same colour as her hair, and tried to attack him. Past the table, and through the stormtroopers.


Knocking one of them off balance, he recovered but the commissar saw his opportunity, trying to push through the other way; the eldar farseer battered at him with her transparisteel manacles, trying to push him out of her path to get at the Caledonian.
Lennart was prepared to release him if she got that far- he had caught a flash of what the big marine meant- but it wasn’t necessary, as the commissar punched her in the face with the hilt of his chainsword and tried to use her body as a battering ram. Not quite, as three energy blades flickered towards him, he caught two but aleph-3 rested her sword tip on his throat.

‘I think that’s quite enough, don’t you? What in space did you say to her?’ Lennart asked Brother- Sargeant Fergus, referring to the farseer who had been clouted on the head with the blunt end of a welding torch.
‘Asked her how mony daemon princes there wur in her family tree.’
‘You what?’ Andraste bellowed, outraged. That also wasn’t the sort of thing they were supposed to talk about, evidently.


‘Let’s sort the diplomatic side out first. You’ve given me absolutely no reason to trust your self control-‘ and was there a sly wink at the commissar in there?- ‘I require of you that you lay down your arms. That is to say you can hand me your weapons, or I can have your manipulative appendages ripped off, choose.’ Lennart said.

Slowly, with a fine show of reluctance, the commissar sheathed his chainsword and unbuckled his weapon belt. It would have clattered to the deck, but the gravity control system wafted it away out of reach.
‘Ah don’t think ah’m ready tae be measured fur a set o’ cyberbits just quite yet.’ Fergus said, ignoring his fellow marine’s homicidal glower. ‘Mind you-‘ he tried to uncurl, to wriggle himself free of the gravity fields that were holding him in place.

‘Gimel, take his implements.’ Aleph-1 directed, and the stormtrooper fireteam divested the marine of his weaponry. The huge, heavy-calibre bolter that left his battle-brother’s eyes almost bugging out; the field backup laspistol that would have passed for a hellgun in an ordinary human’s hands. The trophy alien melta pistol. The magazines and powercells for all three, the missile- grade rifle grenades and the blank bolt shells that launched them and the boxes of hyperexplosive small grenades, the power targe it was fortunate he hadn’t had a chance to activate, the sword that would have been a two- handed weapon for a normal man, the pair of long daggers intended to be used with the targe, the standard combat knife, spare ammo for the rest of his squad- it took some time.

As they were looking at the mound of weapons that weighed more than each of them, one of the stormtroopers said ‘Well, I suppose a pocket atomic or two is no more than the next logical step…’
‘Sorry ah’m no’ heavy weapons, cannae’ help ye there.’ The marine said as the gravitics slowly let him uncurl. ‘Nice trick that, ah’ll huv tae remember that yin. On ra o’er haun’, ye’ve given me no reason not tae try again.’


‘What about the safety of the Imperium?’ Lennart said, aiming for what he thought was a vital target.
‘I have a difficult time believing that you’re not the primary threat to the safety of the imperium.’ The commissar pointed out. ‘Or that someone who wants to be made a better offer is actually telling us the whole truth.’
‘All right, you actually want the whole truth? Here it is. We have no specific mission remit. Open ended reconnaissance. Whatever we report back will be the factual basis of Imperial policy.’

‘Only the factual basis?’ the commissar asked, shrewdly.
‘I see you have done the politics thing before. Yes- and now that the rest of your battle group has left wreckage and data strewn all around the mouth of the wormhole it’s going to be that much harder for me to bring this to a soft landing.’
‘I really don’t understand that. You think you have that much to lose by going to war?’ the commissar probed.

‘The strategic balance of power…for the same power output, your ships are a hundred times the volume. Huge, slow, flabby things- but so very, very numerous. We’ve already started to refer to this side of the wormhole as the Target Rich Environment. I am confident in the ability of the Imperial Starfleet to achieve strategic victory, even if the war would be like a man with a vibrorapier frantically rushing to dismember an endless sequence of marching brontosauri- but for one problem. Chaos.’


‘You’re seriously suggesting that the powers of chaos are the ultimate safeguard for the defence of the Imperium?’ the commissar said, managing to make it sound like he was shocked by the idea.
‘Against an enemy that simply wants to destroy, no, they’re just another one of your problems. Against a rival that wants to take and hold, especially a rival that’s collectively unprepared for the warp- actually, yes.’ Lennart admitted.

The commissar was horrified; not because of the fact of the idea, but because of the casualness- the lack of appropriate response, the absence of horror- with which Lennart dealt with it.
‘You’re seriously suggesting we- that the Forces of the Imperium- would be better off feeding you to the Ruinous Powers?’ Somebody has to think outside the box, it has to be someone’s job. Probably not a commissar’s, then, not on a routine basis.

‘Oh, come on, I know you came up with that at the conference table. Yes, you would. I have spent every second waking moment since I was identified as a force user telling the force to go kriff itself; I’m possibly the best person that could have been picked for this job, even if it was largely an administrative accident. I have been contacted, tempted; many of my colleagues couldn’t summon up the same resistance- and some of them wouldn’t.’ Lennart admitted.

‘Why in the name of Holy Terra would it serve us to help you with that problem?’ the commissar asked, ignoring the now thoroughly baffled Deathwatch Marine.
‘Good question.’ Lennart admitted. ‘If you intend to fight for your own, try to hold the wormhole against us, of course you’d tell us to, what’s your word? Frak off. Pretty clear signal.
Strictly speaking, we are not here looking for a war. We’ll take it if that’s really all you have, but I’m sure we have things that you want, and you have things that we want.

What do you think would serve the Galactic Empire better; a strong trading partner, or being dragged into a war of conquest in tormented space, flaking off renegades, chancers and defectors at every turn, and even at the very best having to fight for every gain a dozen times over against the enemies of the Imperium that we would inherit, to say nothing of it’s diehards?’


There was a long, cold pause after that, as both the men from the Imperium tried to calculate the likelihood that Lennart was telling the truth, and exactly what that meant if he was.
Then there was a groan from the battered, smelly form of the guardsman draped over the table; Gunner Jurgen was recovering consciousness.
‘Oh good, we can talk a little more freely now.’ Lennart said, and the commissar knew exactly what he meant.

‘You mean ye urnae’ a’ready?’ the Caledonian said.
‘How much authority do you really have to make any kind of deal? Unless I’m not reading the signals properly, the only other officers we’ve met on your side were the handful at the conference table.’ The commissar asked.
‘I’m not a natural bladesman; this ship is my fencing foil. Still, at least I have the force, the bridge team don’t. Why should I put my friends and colleagues, who with only a handful of exceptions are not experts in personal combat, into a situation where they can be shot at to no good purpose?’ Lennart said, transparently.


‘To convince us that you have the authority to call your dogs off. If only one side declares peace, well.’ The commissar pointed out.
‘Aye, proof o’ treachery an’ black- haarted deceit, ainly solution war unendin’.’ The marine said. ‘Speakin o’ which-‘ he added as the eldar farseer started to recover consciousness.
‘Exactly what do you mean by treachery and black- hearted deceit, in connection with the eldar?’ Lennart asked the Caledonian, as soon as he was sure the farseer was awake enough to reply.

‘Tae be honest ah dinnae’ think we’re supposed tae ken this, but ra Eldar ae the remaains o’ a species that mair or less got devoored by Chaos. The wans ye meet aboot the place are the table scraps left o’er.’
‘That’s not common knowledge among the forces of the Imperium.’ The commissar pointed out.
‘It’s common knowledge wi’in the Astartes, ah can tell ye, an’ it goes a lang way tae explainin’ why they act ra way they do.’

Lennart made the obvious connection. ‘This eye of terror of yours…’
‘Is the grave marker of the vast majority of the Eldar race.’ The farseer interjected. ‘In that at least you are right- although not in any of the details! My kin are the few who were aware of the threat and protected themselves.’
‘So essentially the entirety of the species is composed of the descendants of hillbilly survivalists? Is that an adequate explanation for anything?’ Lennart added the last to the marines.

‘Noo ye come tae’ mention it, aye. The ainly times they’ve e’er cooperated wi’ anybody, o’er anythin’, is fightin’ Chaos. Rest o’ the time- if there wur still enough o’ them yon’d be that rival ye were talkin’ aboot. Whene’er they dae pitch in, e’en then they tend tae leave ra dirty work, ra meat grinder, tae the humans.’
‘Which is only reasonable considering it is the human race who supply Chaos with the majority of it’s meat in the first place.’ The farseer snapped back at Fergus. ‘We are those and the descendants of those who did not fall; your species is still falling- and I could ask you Astartes the same question, I seem to remember a little incident called the Horus Heresy?’


They were about to swing for each other again when there was a thunderclap in the room and a glowing ball of light appeared between them. ‘Chaos is obviously more potent than even we feared; the very mention of it’s name can start fights.’ Lennart deadpanned. ‘Of course, this raises questions as to how you would behave without that threat hanging over you, what the prelapsarian condition is.’

‘Why would that matter- Throne! You offered them a place in your universe?’ The commissar guessed, accurately.
‘The circumstances of the deal are rather interesting.’ The farseer confirmed, trying not to be overly smug and not succeeding. ‘Passage to and space in a universe free from the threat of Chaos, in exchange for the use of our structures here- including the Webway.’
The commissar and the marines looked utterly poleaxed. Eventually the commissar recovered far enough to say ‘You’re bluffing. Either that or you like really, really drastic solutions. I mean, you hardly know them.’

‘I do have the force, you know.’ Lennart reminded him. ‘Besides, it’s nowhere near as radical as the first grand- strategic solution my chief engineer and I managed to come up with, which was to destroy the Warp.’
‘Frak. You really are from outside reality, aren’t you?’ The commissar managed to say.
‘Now you see why I wanted you as a liaison officer.’ Lennart beamed a happily maniacal grin. ‘Most of your colleagues would be in catatonic shock by now, I reckon.’
‘Am ah goin’ tae regret askin’ how in the name o’ the wee man ye intend tae dae that?’


‘Probably, but it’s actually very simple, in a pay no attention to the physicist behind the curtain sort of way. Here we have a balloon, one of the metaphorical- that is to say inflatable- kind, a needle, and a pin.’ Lennart suited the actions to the words; the farseer, the marine and the commissar all leaned forward.
‘Under tension, vulnerable, volatile.’ Lennart said, patting the balloon. ‘A sufficiently small, sufficiently sharp point-‘ he stabbed the balloon with the hypodermic needle, and to their surprise it failed to explode.

He attached a syringe to it, drew out a handful of the gas within, squirted it into the air- it burned in a jet of blue flame. ‘I said this was a metaphorical balloon. What happens when you poke it with something blunter, something that it can’t seal itself over?’ He released the balloon, drifted it up into the corner of the compartment, threw the pin at it.
It exploded, in a sheet of fire that startled everyone.

‘I hope I don’t need to tell you all of this again, my eyebrows can’t take much more…now tell me, what do you think that’s a metaphor of?’ Lennart said, putting down the implements and picking up his remote.
‘Politics, espionage?’ The commissar guessed first, and wrongly, although what that had to do with the warp he couldn’t quite figure out.
‘Is there a symbolism in the choice of implements?’ the eldar guessed. ‘A making thing unmakes, an unmaking thing passes unseen?’
‘A wee bit less metaphorical than that, ah reckon…’


‘Throne! Your ship teleporter, your universe shifting device.’ The commissar got it.
‘Spot on.’ Lennart said.
‘So, which o’them is it, then?’
‘Both.’ He said, enjoying their looks of terror and confusion.

It was designed,’ Lennart said, ‘as an ultimate weapon- and I know that none of you understand enough real science to follow the mathematics, which is why I’m tempted to tell you.’ Three more looks of horror.
‘Maybe later. Pop quiz; why is reality the shape it is?’
‘The will of the emperor?’ The commissar hazarded a guess.
‘As far as your civilisation goes, maybe, but I’m talking cosmology. The universe is six orders of magnitude older than he is.’

‘We are taught to believe-‘ the farseer began.
‘Does this involve gods? It does? Wrong answer, try again.’ Lennart checked her.
Somethin’ tae dae wi’ membranes an’ the foldin’ o’ time, is it no’? ’ the Caledonian marine said, uncertain.
‘Don’t let your colleague hear you say that, he’ll probably decide you’re a heretic too- because you’re more or less right. I didn’t think anyone outside your cyborg caste was allowed any grasp of the fundamentals.’


‘Tae be honest, that really is aboot a’ I know.’ Fergus admitted.
‘You look completely boggled,’ Lennart said to Cain and the farseer, ‘so I’ll make this simple; there’s no particularly good reason, it’s all quantum, which really isn’t a good explanation to my mind but there’s not much sense objecting to scientific cosmology. There are-‘ he pressed a button on the remote, brought up the holoimage of the number ten to the five hundredth power written out in longhand.

‘That many potential universes, potential shapes to the universe. Not all of them are survivable, not all of them produce circumstances capable of sustaining complexity for long enough to call it life; some implode, some explode, some vary too much within themselves, some have too many dimensions unpacked, some have too few- variety, endless variety.
Your universe is actually on the borderline of what could be called stable; yes, even with the warp, there are worse. No, I have no intention of going to visit them.’

‘So going from one to another, the balloons, the exploding balloons- you don’t mean one or other universe is about to blow itself apart?’ the commissar asked, and there really was no way to make that sound determined.
‘Only if I want it to.’ Lennart said, with a twisted, evil grin that made them wonder if chaos had got a claw into him after all.
‘The thing is, our portal maker was originally designed as a weapon- the ultimate weapon. It was supposed to fire a pocket universe at the target.’


The reactions of all of them were open- jawed astonishment; the commissar and his aide doing very good impressions of gaffed fish, the eldar looked as if she would like to wave her arms in the air and scream and shout about now, and to be honest Lennart knew how they felt. It was one of those things that if you weren’t horrified by it, you didn’t understand.
It was not and never could be a tactical weapon; the power requirements and the implications were simply too cosmic.

‘It is exceptionally unlikely,’ Lennart said, listening to himself and trying not to chuckle over the fact that he had slipped into lecturing mode, ‘that a complex structure of matter and energy that exists under one set of laws would function, would continue to exist if the shape of the universe- if the laws of the universe change under it.
There turned out to be a few technical problems with that, not least the possibility that an alternative shape would expand and overwrite the entire rest of the universe.

Granted, there are people to whom the prospect of taking everything else that exists down with them would have some attraction, but fortunately saner heads prevailed.
After the war it was intended to be used in, we kept playing around with the idea, gradually figuring out how to tailor custom spacetimes with chosen properties- it’s been generations since there was anything approaching that kind of technology in general use. The physics goes back to subspace drive, and stasis technology’s really the killer app, but apart from that specific example the field’s lain fallow.

The theoretical basis exists, but no-one’s tried to turn it into practical technology in an aeon or more, I’m actually quite surprised that we got it right. I can also think of one very specific piece of your universe you could do with having overwritten; what would you say to a bubble of warp-impossible four-force four-dimension space, curvature limited to implode back on itself after five thousand light years- and released at the epicentre of the Eye of Terror?’

There was another long silence while the forces of the Imperium tried to figure out precisely what Lennart was on about. Eventually the Caledonian marine said ‘Oan reflection, if ye really kin over-write ra Eye of Terror, then ah think we’d probably huv tae canonise ye as a Saint.’


‘Well, that would make about as much sense as anything else that’s happened so far,’ Lennart admitted. ‘You understand why Chaos isn’t especially pleased by this idea?
Also, there’s the slight political- diplomatic problem that your survivors from the battle of the wormhole are going to be here soon- maybe not for the orks but in time to matter against the chaos battle- or should that be “baffle” group?- and they’re almost certainly going to try to kill me.
That’s going to be fun. Tactically- I’d actually recommend a defensive operation. What are Orks attracted to?’

‘A good fight, mainly.’ The commissar stated; he was still not sure whether Lennart was dangerously insane or just creatively dangerous. I can understand that, Lennart thought, if some maniac wandered into my home and promised to abolish the Dark Side of the Force I’d think he was off his head too. Still, tactical problem to solve before we can do anything strategically useful.
‘Basically, they’re frothing maniacs? How naturally does space combat come to them?’ Lennart wondered.
‘They’re no’ as bad ar’ it as ye think. Operaationally, they’re mair canny than some o’ the Imperial Navy, tactically, aye, they’re a’ frothin’ berserkers. That’s just hoo they hit ye, tho’, where an’ when, they’re sharp enough.’ Fergus pointed out.

‘H’m. Sounds like a straightforward clash of forces might work for them. Fortify one of the planets,’ Lennart suggested, holoprojector bringing up a system map, ‘are they likely to fall for EW? Make it look like we’re trying to defend. Force them to attack, that puts them on the tactical- defensive, means they’re effectively running convoys we can raid and harass.
We can easily fake up something that looks like a hyperdimensional gateway terminal, lure them in. They’re not to know there’s no such thing, a drawn out engagement means they could fall foul of the Chaos group and chew each other up, leaving the Mutually Suspicious Forces of Vaguely Good-Ish to massacre the survivors. What d’you think?’


‘Do you eat animals? Capsule birth, there’s a proverb-‘ the commissar began.
‘ “Don’t count your chickens before the eggs are hatched,” you mean?’ Lennart acknowledged, but added the political barb. ‘You don’t really want us to start planning for failure, do you?’
‘Frankly, I’m not convinced.’ The commissar said. ‘Both that you actually can manage to make this happen, and that you’re entirely sane.’

‘Of course I’m not entirely sane.’ Lennart said in mock indignation. ‘First I’m a force user, which disqualifies me automatically, and second you don’t expect clear- headed rationality to go around doing potentially suicidal things like sticking it’s head down a hole into another universe, do you?’
‘I’d feel much more confident if you didn’t have a point.’ The commissar said.
‘Actually, so would I.’

‘The point is,’ Lennart went on, ‘regardless of what grand strategic plans I may have in hand, there’s the immediate hurdle to get over- which is that that our respective empires are likely to end up at war unless we take active steps to prevent it. Considering the alternatives, you would be wise to come up with that counteroffer- You’re probably going to need to talk to your respective command face to face.’

‘That’s a problem?’
‘Yes, insofar as your shuttle detonated half an hour ago. We had to tractor it out to conduct flight operations, and the bombs went off as it was being towed alongside.’

The ship’s PA sounded off then; ‘Battle stations, battle stations. Enemy in sight.’
‘What does that mean?’ The commissar asked.
‘Means the orks are here already.’ Lennart realised. ‘A TIE’s about the only thing that I can spare that’ll get you there safe and quickly. Do you know how to fly a starfighter?’

[Richardson]

Only lennart can tell you with a straight face that he intends to throw a hole ****ing universe at a problem.

[Vehrec]

Well, well, well. This does not disapoint-except maybe in terms of length and getting to see Cain struggle with piloting a bog-standard TIE.

[Darth Raptor]

This is all well and good, but Lennart's authority to negotiate begins and ends with him making "I strongly recommend"s to command which may or may not go completely ignored by Coruscant. How the (Galactic) Emperor will react is anyone's guess. While Chaos is anathema to Palpatine, he's also not very good at believing he has limits. It could be very bad if he sees the Immaterium as a target for subjugation instead of annihilation. I'd say His Majesty didn't need to know, but the Eye sees everything.

[Richardson]

His eye does not see into other universes, though, and Lennart might have enough pieces to realize he needs to work VERY fast.

[Thanas]

Yeah, but Lennart is a commodore. At the very least a High Admiral/Moff etc would step in at some time. But this was another good chapter, ECR.

[Vianca]

A nice chaotic chapter (for the grunts).
If this keeps up, they might give them what they want, if only they would leave.

So, when can we espect Mirrannon to get his anti warp shielding?

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Lennart is painfully aware of the time problem; he's maintaining pretty well so far- although it could be read as him on the upswing of a manic- depressive phase- but there has to be a limit somewhere.

Simply meandering around, it could take years for ambient chaos to wear the resistance of the Galactic Empire crews down and some of them to flip out- but at the centre of an increasingly major incident? Time is limited.

Essentially, he's trying to present both sides with a fait accompli; use the strategic possibilities- which are perfectly genuine- as a scarecrow to pressurise the Imperium into at least a local agreement, and then turn round and present that agreement to his own command as something the other side expect them to honour.

Vastly exceeding his own proper authority in doing so, of course, but it wouldn't be the first time, and arguably as the man on the spot and fully aware of the dangers, he has some reason- at least, a better excuse than usual.

This would be easier for him, although possibly less successful, if Ciaphas hadn't pretty much worked it out. Admiral Themion, Lennart's immediate line of command superior, is a sharp enough office politician to work it out too given half a chance. Above that...who was in charge of Oversector Outer immediately before Thrawn? The politics are definitely going to get complicated.

That and applying pressure via the Eldar is very much a calculated risk- one of the biggest risks being that I think they can assemble and make decisions that quickly. Given their foresight, psychic and otherwise, and the webway, their strategic reaction time could be orders of magnitude better than the Imperium's. They might just decide to take him up on that, whether they meant it as a bluff or not.

Re-inventing the Gellar Field from sensor input, captured manuals and examination of the wreckage left around the wormhole mouth is a medium/long- term option, not a short term solution. 'Too late to affect the immediate outcome' is when it's going to happen.

[Thanas]

This would be easier for him, although possibly less successful, if Ciaphas hadn't pretty much worked it out. Admiral Themion, Lennart's immediate line of command superior, is a sharp enough office politician to work it out too given half a chance. Above that...who was in charge of Oversector Outer immediately before Thrawn? The politics are definitely going to get complicated.

Thrawn never was in charge of it. First, Grand Moff Tarkin, after the death of him Grand Moff Ardus Kaine, commanding from the SSD Reaper.

[Darth Raptor]

Tarkin wore about a dozen hats though, half of which Kaine only wishes he'd inherited. His role as Chief Rebel Catcher went to Vader, for example, so Kaine is more of a conventional governor than a lowercase emperor (for now). The Grand Admirals weren't part of the normal Navy chain of command, either. There's a high admiral or something under Kaine, but this will almost certainly be taken over by officials at the "all Empire" level. Lennart has exactly as long as it takes for the Ubiqtorate to realize what they've found.

[Thanas]

Tarkin wore about a dozen hats though, half of which Kaine only wishes he'd inherited. His role as Chief Rebel Catcher went to Vader, for example, so Kaine is more of a conventional governor than a lowercase emperor (for now). The Grand Admirals weren't part of the normal Navy chain of command, either. There's a high admiral or something under Kaine, but this will almost certainly be taken over by officials at the "all Empire" level. Lennart has exactly as long as it takes for the Ubiqtorate to realize what they've found.

Actually, Kaine commanded the Scourge Squadron, which from all accounts is a mirror of the Death Squadron, having nearly the same force structure with one SSD as command ship and the same imperative - hunting rebels in the Outer Rim. The difference is that Vader's mandate was empire-wide, of course.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Brainfart on my part, good catch, I just have the grand admiral on the brain at the moment...
Looking up Ardus Kaine (now there's an interesting coincidence, and a Prisoner of Zenda- like thought flashed across my mind for a moment) it's not greatly informative; what the wookie says about him is necessary but not sufficient. Devoted loyalist of the New Order, and a skilled tactician and strategist. I should damn' well hope so, in a responsible job like that, but what about the man behind the qualifications?

Well, he was one of the founders of COMPNOR, a master zampolit in the truest sense of the term, and wanted to remain at court- Palpatine chose to ship him out to the edge of the galaxy. Little about his friends, enemies, contacts, and most of that quite worrying- an associate and supporter of Jerec's, for a start, which means he's not ignorant but may well be overconfident on the subject of the Force. Likely to be an engager, press on.

He seems to have been a ruthless man and a competent one, but was he corrupt? Would he turn down personal wealth and fame for the greater glory of the New Order? (The Empire, if anything, has too damned many incorruptibles. All those would- be Robespierres, and not a Marat or Danton in sight.) A gifted orator, but possibly lacking in personal charm? Capricious or doctrinaire? Does he revel in authority, or is making the galaxy anew a labour of love? Old money, or a new man for a new order?

His personal command- he's explicitly stated, which I presume is a quote from a credible source, to have been a political enforcer, and the Scourge Squadron has the smell of self inulgence to me, an essentially untrained civilian whose political position puts him in the chain of command and is using that to play at spaceman. Embarrassingly for the starfleet, he seems to have been rather good at it- but pity his poor bloody flag captain.

He's the third level of command and the first political heavy hitter likely to be involved, and the picture I'm starting to work up of him is not a comforting one. A former loyalty officer, and most of the rest of Deep Field Recon were chosen, like Lennart, for their improvisational tendencies. There's a natural clash of personality there. An associate of an exceptionally gifted (and also quite, quite mad) force user, he's likely to know less about the force than he thinks he does, which is not good.

The sooner the Ubiqtorate get involved the better, probably; at least they have talented analysts, because with a new order devotee involved, this could turn out to be retribution for the Battle of the Rishi Mouth. He should be smarter than that, and in theory he is- if he gives his brain a chance, and doesn't let ideology carry him away.

[Thanas]

Might be also worth interesting that Thrawn actually constrained his political moves through deft maneuvering when he took power, but didn't move against him. Only after Kaine's death were his forces absorbed. So his loyalty and ideology didn't seem to have blinded Kaine too much or prevented him from gaining wealth. Scourge Command was set up before the empire collapsed, so no personal indulgence here.

The picture I am getting here is a ruthless, efficient man who doesn't have any scrupels, as well as being realistic enough to know when to quit and acquiesce (like providing Thrawn with troops instead of challenging him).

[Darth Raptor]

He's a True Believer. Not in the Empire per se, but in Palpatinism-Tarkinism. The biggest insights into Kaine's character come from the post-Endor period. After COMPNOR lost its bid for power, Kaine picked up his toys and left, founding the Pentastar Alignment of Powers on the Outer Rim. The Alignment would be one of the biggest Imperial splinter factions from this period (not counting the Empire proper and the Deep Core enclave), and was basically a testbed for New Order ideology. The Alignment took part in the blitz to recapture Coruscant, and was reincorporated after the Empire became galactic again. Peacefully, I might add, and with Kaine's status intact. So while he wasn't willing to go along with Isard's wrecking centralization policies, he seems to have plenty of loyalty for the Great Leader.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Well, I thought about it and this is what happened. Actualy, this is downright Uncanny Valley territory for me; we have Ciaphas Cain on one side, Ardus Kaine on the other, and do you know what my own surname is? Kane. It feels quite odd...

A Squelch of Empires ch 15

HIMS Torchbearer;

Admiral Themion was really not looking forward to the conversation he was about to have. The actual battle had turned out to be the prelude to a world of drakh.

With maimed and shattered leviathans littering the wormhole mouth, there had to be some kind of clean up operation- which inevitably had to be combined with keeping watch on the wormhole for more trouble, in addition to sending huge, valuable heavy recovery ships far into harm’s way.

The fact was, the Imperial Starfleet hadn’t had this much debris to deal with since the destruction of the Death Star, and even then it had been a case of bringing a really, really big molecular scoop.

Policing up something that could turn at any second into an active battlefield was hard work, there had been several false alarms already as the wormhole burbled- but nothing had come out.
Each time, the transports had to run for it, interrupting whatever they were doing.

That was just a scheduling issue. What was much worse was that any wreck that had not actually melted could be counted upon to have some surviving inhabitants, and did they believe that the obligation of a sailor from a destroyed ship to keep fighting was over? Did they kriff.

Preliminary estimates were that the rank and file space crew were about as combat ready as an Imperial Army unit, the naval infantry comparable to low end stormtroopers, the regular ground troops carried on board could probably stand up against old school Clonetroopers, and as for their actual Marines…

The huge slab- thing, the one that the datapad he was now holding called a Battle Barge, had already eaten three battalions. Between them, two thousand Stormtroopers had managed to clear out a space large enough to safely land an evacuation shuttle, and had killed approximately fifteen of the enemy in the process.

Themion had already been fairly senior at the end of the Clone Wars, enough for a unit command, but it had been defensive, a patrol of one of the security fleets. He liked to think that his unit had been so obviously capable that the enemy had never come near them, but knew it was no more than a lie for bravado’s sake.

He had never really encountered Jedi or other force users, for or against, but he was starting to understand, looking at the mauled Limitanei, just what that sort of crushing personal superiority actually meant.

Just as well stormtroopers didn’t need to be asked to volunteer, and even at that casualty ratio he had more than enough of them to get that particular job done- but they would eat up so many of his ground troops they would have to draft more in to deal with the rest of the debris field.

There were other ships where the Imperium survivors had won the boarding action- and proceeded to steal the shuttle. We need less intuitive flight protocols and less cooperative droids, he thought sourly.

No-one had got away, relatively few of them had even been able to turn the engines on, but there was a risk he would run out of boarding craft as well.


Irreversible had been condemned in the preliminary survey- too much of her structure had been compromised by those flare bombs, and a cluster of them had been found where they had smashed through the thinner members and ended up lodged against the main reactor.

Only heroic damage control had stopped them cooking off and taking the entire, hundred and fifty thousand crew, ship with them.
Themion had instructed them not to scrap her just yet; his last ditch plan for the use of the ship was to ram her down the wormhole and detonate her half way through.

It might implode of itself anyway- but the science people thought not. It was just feedback, turbulence in the space on the other side, relatively easily containable. So far.

What was on the other side, though…he had only met Lennart briefly, at the conference where this lunatic plan had been laid out, and had hardly really had a chance to get to know him.

The commodore’s reputation was confusing and contradictory, and it was clear that he was several things to several different people.

Fine, the full admiral thought, I understand the art of impressions, he’s doing the political dance necessary to…what the hell is he trying to do? He’s not ambitious in the conventional sense, he could easily have been an admiral himself by now if he had pushed for it. Instead he clings to one relatively small ship.

Nominated retroactively for the Emperor’s Will after Second Coruscant, never pursued it. Refused the award of a first class Bloodstripe. Playing modest is one thing, but you don’t turn down the big prizes. He lets himself look like a glory hound, but in actual fact he’s positively allergic to it.

Plays on the national reputation to come across as typical Corellian chancer, wild and unpredictable and always operating on the margins, but for all that he pushes his ship to the limit on a regular basis, they’ve never had a major mechanical casualty that didn’t involve enemy action.

He’s supposed to be a frothing maniac, take on anything at any odds, but his time in operations, personnel, fleet nav coordination, teaching positions- he’s too smart for that.

For kriff’s sake, he was well on his way to becoming a senator’s aide before dropping out and going to the naval academy- not a career for an idiot despite what most of the military, for that matter most of the public, like to think.


A mass of contradictions. What it boils down to, Themion thought looking at the Commodore, Deep Field Recon’s report and action plan on the datapad in his hand, is this; can I trust his judgement?

An ex navigator who once, for a bet, turned off the nav computers and plotted a course with a slide rule- that pretty much says it all really. Day to day skill unquestionable, the use he puts it to highly dubious.

So I can probably trust the data gathered, the methodology, the individual facts deduced, but look with extreme suspicion on the conclusion, Themion decided.

As for the man himself- he’s found his niche. Found a place in the pyramid where he can indulge all those contradictions, where he can get away with being an alakeefik looney and a brilliant combat commander. He doesn’t do it out of duty, he does it for fun.

It may be my positive duty to kick the scruffy bastard upstairs to a position where he has to start looking neat and sweating the politics with the rest of us.

On the other hand, if I don’t accept his conclusions, he added, I have roughly ten minutes to come up with something before I have to talk to the Grand Moff and give him the Starfleet analysis of the foreign power on the other end of the hole, and our recommendation for what to do with, for, about and to it.

That and I’m tempted to advise him to take this call on the toilet, because there’s more than enough in here to leave us both crapping ourselves. Kriffit, Lennart must be rubbing off on me.


The Force ran through the report like a pollution; something else the admiral was by no means keen on talking to Grand Moff Kaine about. He had been one of the founder members of the committee for the preservation of the new order, or should that have been prosecution?

A politician who had involved himself as a political loyalty officer, in fact the chief of them all- who had been responsible for telling the fleet what the civil power wanted it to think, and making sure that they did.

One of those things had been the comprehensive writing down of the Force as charlatanry and trickery, as something very like an elaborate con and a myth, perpetrated on the republic by the jedi- something the Empire would not be taken in by.

A concept that Ardus Kaine’s men had been rather determined to ensure that the fleet understood.

There had been relatively few humans who had fought as part of the jedi controlled, clone manned main striking fleets; most of the accounts that had come out of those forces were garbled at best, laconic to the point of being almost featureless at worst.

Between that and the fact that most of the live born spacers of the fleet were, if anything, jealous of the amount of action the jedi and clones got, it had been relatively easy to blacken their name.

Now Themion was wondering what the actual truth behind the propaganda had really been, and how dangerous it would be to mention that fact. For all the diminution and condemnation, it was obvious from the followup purges and the still existant dead-or-alive arrest orders that the Empire had been positively scared of the remnants of the jedi.

There was an uncomfortable thought; Jorian Lennart had been one of those humans who had served in a largely clone manned striking fleet, he had seen what they could do- and he had been given the deep penetration role largely because he had a touch of the force himself.

Perhaps he did have the knowledge to back such an unpalatable set of conclusions. Even so, he had no authority to do what he was actually proposing, none at all, and he must be more than aware of that.


‘Admiral, I have the Grand Moff now.’ His flag lieutenant reported. Themion turned to face the holotank.

‘Your excellency.’ He acknowledged. As a Grand Moff, Kaine did have the right to appear larger than life, and Themion had expected to be loomed over, put in his place; had already started resenting the fact, when it turned out not to be so.

It was a normal size image, but the visage it displayed was bad enough- an iron grey haired hatchet face, long chin and sharp nose, stormcloud grey eyes.

He was exactly the sort of man the New Order- which if it meant anyone other than him, it meant Palpatine himself- wanted in a position of supreme authority; someone not afraid to use it.

Kaine was consciously trying not to frighten his subordinate into immobility or confusion by appearing menacing; it failed, because to a politically conscious subordinate who knew the tricks of the trade, that false humility was even worse.
On the other hand, after that damned battle, Themion didn’t frighten as easily as he used to.

‘Admiral.’ The grand moff acknowledged. ‘You have a report for me?’

‘Two, your excellency; my own on the conduct of the battle, and Deep Field’s initial tactical analysis.’ And in saying that, he thought, I have made a political statement. Separating myself from Lennart, to a degree.

Kaine noticed the pause and fortunately ascribed it to something else. ‘You don’t need to dumb it down for me, Admiral Themion.’

Which was actually true; for a long time political officer, Ardus Kaine was surprisingly knowledgeable about the working end of the navy. He preferred to run his oversector from a mobile flagship rather than a planetary base, and took a close personal interest in the military operations that keeping the peace out here always involved.

Unlike the late, unlamented ‘pancake’ Tarkin, who had based not only his political career but his favourite personal hobby on murdering unarmed protesters with units of the line of battle, Kaine was actually rather good at it- he had managed to catch Grand Admiral Pitta out a few times.

I don’t fear being led and commanded by an incompetent, Themion thought looking at the holotank; he demonstrably isn’t that- but on the other hand, he is a fanatic for the New Order and may easily ask more of us than is humanly realistic to give.

‘Of course not, Your Excellency- I simply haven’t finished making up my own mind about Commodore Lennart’s report. I’ll have the raw data sent to you, but I presume you require a précis?’ Probably no bad thing to remind even his boss that he really did have a mind of his own, although I could be showing it to better effect, Themion upbraided himself.

‘Is “tactical analysis” an underestimate, then?’ the Grand Moff challenged, sharply.

‘Enormously.’ Themion admitted. ‘A good part of it consists of grand strategy and cosmopolitics, including a comprehensive set of recommendations and details of actions already taken. He seems to have assumed plenipotentiary authority.’ Themion took a deep breath, decided he had to say it. ‘And if his analysis is correct, he may have been right to do so.’

‘I hope the extraordinariness of that statement is matched by the extraordinariness of the circumstances; I did not intend to allow a junior officer to set policy for the Galactic Empire.’ Kaine snapped.

‘Is there anything that actually requires immediate action?’ he said a second later, after considering it.

‘The commodore reports that he has attacked one race, engaged in semi- civilised and potentially beneficial negociations with another, is currently in an armed standoff with the third, the people who sent the first ship into our space and who were responsible for the invasion, and expects a full scale battle within a day with the fourth and fifth. Apparently there are a sixth, seventh and eighth that he hasn’t encountered yet, and numerous internal factions within each in any case.’ Themion stated.

‘Interesting. And you say the situation isn’t out of control?’ The moff said, sardonically. ‘Or would you put it that our penetration group was forced to adopt extreme measures to retain a degree of control?’

‘I believe he threatened to destroy the universe, Your Excellency.’ Themion said, pretending to be equally unruffled and probably failing miserably.

‘That is certainly… extreme.’ Ardus Kaine admitted. ‘I presume he passed through several preliminary stages before resorting to such a gargantuan bluff?’

‘There are a detailed set of political considerations in the report, but in essence the commodore believes we can make decisions more quickly than they can, and is trying to stampede their command echelons.

Also…as far as I can tell, Your Excellency, he isn’t bluffing. There’s an appendix in here detailing the cost of turning the wormhole generator into an effective space demolition weapon, I mean a weapon for the demolition of spacetime. It seems to be a back of the envelope calculation from his chief engineer, but it checks out.’ Themion reported.


‘Admiral, do you realise exactly what this means?’ the grand moff said, turning a distinctly frightened shade of pale.

‘Everyone involved with the project is about to be taken apart with a nanoscope.’ Themion acknowledged, grimly.

‘We have just become the most suspicious people in the entire Galactic Empire. There is a power within our reach half the galaxy would kill to gain, and the other half would kill to prevent…if I was still in charge of the political reliability office, I would have so many agents descending on this place they would outnumber the men of your squadron three to one.’

‘Do you believe,’ Ardus Kaine added, ‘that Commodore Lennart intended it so? The physics are genuine, not spurious, this is not some kind of bizarrely elaborate prelude to a purge of Oversector Outer?’

The political officer covering the political angle, Themion thought- and then realised it was in the abstract perfectly plausible. At the minimum, there was the wealth of an at least vaguely civilised universe over there, at the worst there was an ability to do bizarre and terrifying things to this one. Some kind of infighting was probably inevitable.

Once the facts, or at least the preliminaries of them, became known at least. The Ubiqtorate almost certainly already knew. That might or might not be a good thing. Probably not.


‘I’d say Deep Field Recon weren’t seeing the wood for the trees, Your Excellency, except that I count three separate forests involved. I think this may be too gargantuan for anyone less than His Imperial Majesty to grasp all the implications. It would…ah, the cost of full weaponisation of the symmetry device includes a time estimate. Thirty years.’

‘So he is bluffing after all.’ The Grand Moff said.
‘He has certainly attempted to convince them of the truth of that, and he notes that because of their poor centralisation and unreliable communications, their grand strategic decision cycle may be somewhere around a generation anyway.’ Themion pointed out.

‘So he’s trying to present them, and through that us, with a fair accompli? We’d better hear the rest of his analysis then, had we not?’ the moff added, relief giving a sharper edge than usual to his sarcasm. ‘See exactly what this con- artist has in mind.’

‘Very well, your excellency- we’re leaving the wormhole, symmetry, the strategic aspect aside for the time being?’

‘Bringing the immediate situation to a successful close is the only measure I can think of that might sufficiently convince His Imperial Majesty that we are not a threat to the Empire.’ Ardus Kaine pointed out.


Every man was corruptible, that was as close as the new order really got to an article of faith. Line animals, investigators, politicos, authority figures, even the new lords of order. Or should that have been especially?

His agents had investigated too many fleet officers; no-one was safe, no-one was above suspicion. There had been enough disgruntled subordinates left behind in the political reliability office, they would take a perverse pleasure in raking their former boss over the coals- to say nothing of what the Ubiqtorate might do to him.

‘We must demonstrate extreme- no, ultimate- fidelity to the ideals of the New Order.’ Kaine pointed out. ‘Would anyone of less than absolute reliability be allowed to exist with their hand on the trigger of a physics- rewriting weapon?’

The political reliability office never accepted that anyone, ever, was of absolute fidelity- and truth be told the Imperial Starfleet didn’t want that kind of faith. It was counterproductive.

The New Order, too, didn’t want people who would just follow, it wanted ambitious, ruthless, determined men unafraid to stab their boss in the back and heave the corpse out of the way to push themselves forward.
The new order could, at times, be astonishingly disorderly.

‘Another good reason to look closely at Deep Field Recon.’ Themion stated. ‘Most of them were chosen for their ability to improvise and exceed what was expected of them.’

The grand moff nodded, slowly. Message received and understood. Their dastardly subordinate, a notorious Corellian more than half pirate, had dreamed up a cunning scheme to exploit the power of the device- while his military and political commanders, pure as the driven snow, would of course never dream of such a thing and were horrified at his deviancy.


‘Although, does this not constitute preparing for failure?’ the moff pointed out.

‘An essential contingency plan, your excellency. To begin with the events on this side of the wormhole; they apparently treated it as a major incident also, extensively debriefed the armed frontier merchant that had penetrated through to Imperial space and assembled a battle group accordingly.

Their forward base was threatened by another party so they had to leave a detachment behind, and it is that formation that Deep Field are currently in negociations with.

There is an urgent request- these people, who apparently call themselves the Imperium of Man, have a particular institution intended to bypass their sclerotic decision making process; field representatives of their Emperor, above the law and empowered to do whatever it takes to serve the greater good of their imperium, and compel the obedience of lesser organisations to act accordingly. Commodore Lennart refers to them as the Inquisition.’ Themion reported.

‘Now there is a job to stir the heart of a determined man.’ Kaine said, with a distinct note of envy in his voice. ‘How much of this is verifiable? Completely above the law- how completely? Plenipotentiary authority in His Majesty’s name and an unlimited right to slice through red tape- I wonder if we could institute a similar system?’


‘I wonder what the dangers of a man being promoted to the level of his incompetence in such a system might be, your excellency.’ Themion sounded the cautionary note. ‘That’s exactly what Commodore Lennart theorises happened.’

‘The behaviour of the enemy battle group? Is there not- yes, there is some form of disorientation effect resulting from the transition.’ The grand moff suggested. ‘You were shooting at a softer target than you realised, and that must take some of the polish off your victory, but-‘

‘They were in disorder before they came through the wormhole, your excellency.’ Themion admitted. ‘My staff and I have refought that battle five times, and they had the assets available to do substantially better than they did. Transition shock explains some of it but not enough- there had already been a breakdown of command.

What the Commodore thinks happened is a case of too many plenipotentiaries. There were several with the fleet, and either a disagreement between them or a clash with the military authorities resulted in the battle group commander being removed and the force being ordered in half- way through a change of formation. Order, counter- order, disorder.’

‘If this is true, then engaging them in their own home territory would be significantly more difficult, would it not? How much more is left to do- what proportion of their total force did they commit to this?’ Ardus Kaine asked.


This was the part that Themion was dreading- only slightly less than explaining the threaten-to-blow-up-the-cosmos plan. ‘Would you prefer me to start with the supporting evidence or jump to the conclusion, your excellency?’

‘Meaning I’m not going to like hearing this, hmm? We’re going to have to go over all of this anyway, so you may as well begin at the beginning with the evidence.’ Moff Kaine decided.

‘Just an action item before we do that, your excellency. Commodore Lennart “urgently, imperatively requests and advises-“ a formulation one step below a note of intent to mutiny- that we make every effort to trace and detain any surviving Inquisitors among the wreckage and strays of the wormhole battle group.’

‘If he can work his bluff on them, they have the authority to bring the conventional forces he’s currently facing into line. Also requiring that we support him in that bluff, which is quite a number to run on your superiors.’ Kaine said.

‘Do you understand him?’ The moff said, changing tone- asking a level question. ‘I have Commodore Lennart’s file here, and the one thing that is absolutely obvious is that he’s been gaming the system and the file says little or nothing about what he’s really like, other than that he’s very good at gaming the system.’

‘On balance…no, I have to admit that I don’t.’ Themion said. ‘His combat record is- beyond exemplary, well into unrepeatable.’


‘So why is a man with one of the best scores in the Starfleet trying to make peace? We should be attempting to enforce the collective Imperial will on these people, if that is practical at all. We have the essential prerequisite data to conduct offensive operations, there is something worth seizing, the only remaining question is how much of a maskirovka is appropriate…and that isn’t what the report says at all, is it?’

‘Their strategic drive is extremely slow,’ Themion reported, ‘and the Imperium of Man is not a hegemonic power- it has to continuously fight to protect itself.’ He waited to see if the moff could put two and two together; it would be more convincing if he worked through the logic that way.

He still wasn’t sure he believed it himself, but it corresponded with the data retrieved from the cleared wrecks and the fragments of debris recovered. They could be trying a deception operation, but not in the face of this much supporting evidence gathered in these circumstances.


‘The strategic initiative would belong to us.’ The grand moff assumed. ‘There would be a string of battles against local defence groups, but we could bring overwhelming force to bear against each, one by one. An expeditionary force such as the one they dispatched to counterattack the wormhole would be more challenging, but-‘

‘Your excellency, that was the local defence group.’ Themion reported. ‘Commodore Lennart reports that he has back door access to the computer- they call them logic engines- system of a local naval base, there has been a slicing match in which we proved superior, and he has access to several centuries’ worth of orders of battle, after action reports, and lesser official correspondence.’

‘They defend by counterattack, then? How large an area is a local defence group like that expected to patrol and secure?’ Kaine asked, still not entirely believing it. Their largest ships had been well into the battleship class; nothing even remotely close to the power to weight of an Imperial ship of the size, but almost as hard to kill.


The rest of the Empire was fortunate; a healthy, even thriving economy that could support many times more in the way of a military establishment than it actually did at present. The Alliance claims of imperial overtaxation destroying local economies, even the Executor project nearly bankrupting the Empire, were somewhere between propaganda and the results of deep stupidity.

Except, arguably, in the poorest part of the Empire and the part which required the greatest density of peacekeeping forces- the barbaric rim of the galaxy whose lords and defenders were grouped under the banner of Oversector Outer.

Kaine understood, now, how Tarkin had managed to develop his doctrine, and also how he had managed to go so completely and venomously insane. Dealing with this scattering of neobarbarian halfwits…

He was forced to know more than most Imperial officers about the practicalities of military economics. There was a limit to how much military force a sector could sustainably deploy.

It was quantitative, not qualitative. The civilian market being what it was, there were very few exclusively military items of hardware; any star cluster with a decent level of trade should be able to maintain and fuel combat starships. The only exceptions, that even in the majority of core sectors had to be shipped in, were front line ECM gear and heavy turbolasers.

Of course. The most important exception of the lot- and one that the Grand Moff had already spent the majority of his career wrestling with from the viewpoint of the political reliability office; the provision of sufficient technically competent and politically reliable men to officer and above all command the damned things.


The force deployed by the Imperium of Man, in tonnage terms and technical support for them- that sort of battle group would be at the limits of an average outer rim sector to maintain. Bad, but not-

‘One hundred and seventy- eight systems, your excellency.’ Themion stated, flatly.

‘What? How? You’re serious? That’s the equivalent of a medium frigate or better for every second inhabited world.’ The Grand Moff said, unbelieving. Well, it wasn’t overwhelmingly impossible- just completely, totally unsustainable with ships even remotely sophisticated or vaguely close to being able to make a difference.

‘Their operational area includes the dead stars between them and the unclaimed space to rimward of where the wormhole emerged, but that really is it, their force density genuinely is that high. If they’re wrong, they’re fooling themselves and have been for over a millennium.’ Themion pointed out.

‘Do we have any information on the extent of their holdings?’ Kaine asked, controlling his expression. A true paragon of the New Order should not shrink from difficulty nor flinch in the face of the seemingly impossible.


‘Galaxy spanning, but not solidly; clutches of suitable worlds close enough to be effectively defended, a rift or a foreign power or an age old disaster area, then another clutch of worlds- their own survey data has error bars, the common saying is ‘an Imperium of a million worlds’, but the true total is considerably greater, probably from three point five to five million.’ Themion estimated.

‘So…we are contemplating a power that can deploy roughly two point five million- as an upper estimate- ships with the throw weight of an Acclamator, and substantially greater damage tolerance. Do you know what the Imperial Starfleet’s fleet list currently stands at?’

‘We have the edge in capital craft.’ Themion said, perhaps inadvisedly. ‘Their best top out at about the level of an Imperator.’


‘We have one less ship of an edge now than we did before this began.’ The grand moff snapped, angrily. ‘You know what a political existence those ships lead.

Heavy destroyers are retained to hunt down rogue line destroyers; there are artificially few true cruisers, and they are held at sector group command level to be used against renegade line and heavy destroyers.

Battleships and battlecruisers are primarily retained as part of regional support and oversector groups, for the purpose of bringing deviant sector groups to heel; there are a relative handful of true dreadnaughts, and almost all of them are retained by regional force command and strategic forces, to curb rogue battleships and battlecruisers.’

Well, the Grand Moff should know; he ran his sector from one of the new Executor- class dreadnaughts.


‘I know that, Your Excellency, but it seems that they might be required for their stated- rather than their real- purpose.’ Themion said, trying not to wince. ‘Besides, that’s something else that’s in the report.

The commodore points out that we have in effect three, no, four separate wars to fight. If we expect to profit from this campaign, anyway.

First we need to take on and defeat the regular military forces of the Imperium, that outnumber us somewhere around fifty to one. Which means fighting fifty separate, all too even battles, one after the other- or fifty small running campaigns- each one of which is too damnably close to an even fight for those numbers to be sustainable.

Then we need to hold the systems conquered against the external threats that those forces were supposed to protect against. Requiring most of the fleet to be in fifty places at once, engaging a variety of enemies most of which seem to have a frightening capability to come back from the dead.

We need to do this for at least as long as it takes to eliminate an all- pervading religion based on the elevation of their emperor to godhood, kill or convert all their diehards and prevent them raising more, then develop them to a state in which they can defend themselves, releasing units for the mobile role again.

Finally, we need to do this while the force is eating away at the minds of our people, destroying them or seducing them into defection. The force is much stronger on the other side of the wormhole, that’s the whole reason it was chosen as a destination, and the main reason there is transition shock.’ Themion said.


‘Damn Lennart for a half- literate political fool who doesn’t understand cause and effect.’ Kaine snarled. ‘He is telling us that this is impossible, and at the same time making it unthinkable that we do not try. I am sure that His Majesty’s interpretation of what is politically necessary will be to attack.

In conjuring up this universe- blasting phantom, he may think he’s handing me a lever, it’s not, it’s a damned noose. We must be so absolutely spotless by the standards of the new order to survive around such a thing, that effectively leaves no freedom of action at all. If he is actually correct-‘

‘The raw data indicates so. Also, it gets worse- he believes that victory under such circumstances would be “at the fingertip limit of the reach of the Imperial Starfleet“- but possible, just.’ Themion said, marvelling at it.

‘To report that, and then to state that he still believes in victory- to sound that measured note of cautious confidence-‘ Kaine said, reading through the copy of the report that had been datalinked across to him, ‘it sounds exactly like he’s doing a second- order CYA.

The devious little shit’s trying to bull me into accepting his plan in it’s entirety, and make it look like a master stroke that avoids plunging the Starfleet into an endless, eroding commitment- he’s trying to make this seem like the only rational option available is to back his lunatic stunt to the hilt.

I do not appreciate being manipulated.’ The Grand Moff said, seething. ‘Is there any alternative data? How badly is he skewing it?’

‘If he is lying to us, he’s not doing it badly enough for it to be obvious- it does match what we’ve been able to figure out so far.’ Themion admitted, reluctantly.

‘Is your will up to date, Admiral?’ The grand moff said heavily.

‘Is that a threat, Your Excellency?’ Themion replied.

‘Don’t be silly, man, of course it is. Unfortunately, the person doing the threatening is likely to be Lord Vader. The Commodore’s scheme is…ingenuous, but it’s out of touch with correct thought. The galactic will is going to require conquest and glory, and painful questions are going to be asked if that fails to happen.

Combine that with the force, and the existence of a weapon beyond all conceivable expectations, and I can see the emperor’s executioner paying us a visit- if not His Majesty himself.

By that time, we had kriffing well better have done something that at least makes us look like stainless champions of the New Order. Any bright ideas?’

‘Would completing the defensive victory be enough?’ Themion suggested.

‘A strategic chase, hm? One they’re probably expecting. How long can one of their ships loiter in whatever it is they use for hyperspace?’ the grand moff asked.

‘Years.’ Themion was forced to admit.

‘It might be enough but it’s not going to happen, not in the timescale we need it to- you were planning to use the 401st BCS for that hunting job, were you not?’ The grand moff said, rhetorically.

‘Send them on through the wormhole?’ Themion guessed.

‘The rebels have been relatively quiet around here, they must be building up for something- I’ll take the chance, pull enough lighter ships together to form a wolf pack. We may as well sweep for these Inquisitors while we’re at it, apart from anything else they are likely to know a great deal.

401st will become first echelon main striking force. Draft orders for them accordingly- make sure they know they are on a mission of political conquest, and they are to be ruthless and uncompromising. It may be a bad idea in the long term, I know, but if we want to live past the short term, long enough to sort anything out, it has to be done.’ The grand moff decided.

‘Aye aye, Your Excellency- what do you want them to be told about the situation, and to what extent are they to cooperate with Deep Field Recon?’ Themion didn’t like it, but he could see the logic.

‘Give them full tactical but no political data. A battlecruiser squadron, the commander would be a rear, no, a vice- admiral, would he not? Commodore Lennart can give advice, but if he tries to exceed his authority again and give an order we might finally have an excuse for having him blown up.’

[Vehrec]

Dun-dun-DUH!

Ooo, the whole political purity angle. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

[fractalsponge1]

A squadron of 3.3e26W Bellators given a wipe-them-out license. That is going to be brilliant fun.

I'm rather starting to like Grand Moff Kaine, capable, ruthless, and dedicated but smart and sane enough to qualify the political BS.

Great update.

Methinks Amberley's yacht is going to get a ridiculous amount of attention if they figure out she's there.