De Imperatoribus Galacticis - S.R. of New Materials.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

This special release includes Chapter the Eighth, Chapter the Ninth, and Chapter the Tenth. Chapter the Eighth was written in August-September, and Chapters the Ninth and Tenth were written on and around the anniversary of 9/11.

I then sent them in to my editor, who is IDMR, one of the moderators here, but due to problems and tribulations in his offline life, he has been unable as of yet to finish editing them.

Therefore I have decided to make a special release of the chapters here on StarDestroyer.net ONLY. I ask they not be archived anywhere, thank you - I have faith that IDMR will be able to finish editing them and the edited versions will be available for archiving.

Note: The use of a -chiliarchy based labeling for military units was a placeholder until I figured an appropriate one out for this slightly-alternate Star Wars universe suited for the Empire, so don't consider it normal at all, it's just a placeholder and would have been gone from the edited version after I talked it over with IDMR, who is a bit of an amateur infantry expert.

The chapters will now be posted.

EDIT: Oh, and for those of you who haven't read it yet, here's the Prologue and first seven chapters:

www.daltonator.net/fanfics/stories/lpdig.rtf

[Ted]

So? Where are they?

[The Duchess of Zeon]

De Imperatoribus Galacticis

"On the Galactic Emperors"

Chapter the Eighth.

(As continued from Chapter the Seventh.)


The Planet Coruscant,
And Space Surrounding.


Centered in a swirling malaestrom of hundreds of thousands of small craft desperately attriting each other and their capital targets, approximately twenty-thousand warships clashed. The sight was one of miserable glory, salvation won at the cost of tens of thousands of lives per minute. The carnage of the scene could work the most pitiless of minds at least to awe if horror was now beyond it; but there was no time to muse on this thing, merely the repetition of one's training, the execution of duty, the subordination of spirit or will to the cause, Victory or Salvation.

For the Vong the alternative was clear; for the Imperial fleet the price was incredible for the Victory to be carried home: But this thing they did not flinch from. Now they came on boldly, and in good order, and the awesome cannonade was commenced from port and starboard. Everywhere, death! Everywhere, courage!

The Vong fleet held its ranks as the Imperials met them from both sides at energy range, returning fire with their batteries that could bear to either enemy force, and now the exchange of energy and missiles alike reached a crescendo unimaginable, where every moment a ship might be destroyed, or in an instance a section rended to scrap or rubble, and those within it instantly reduced to their components.

Truly the glory here was that sentient beings could bravely face what they had created; it was never a moment for the conquerer, but for the sailor who stayed at his post in the worst conditions, and by that common determination, that inestimable piece of the soul that determined one's inner strength, likewise then carried a battle to victory, or upheld the honour of one's nation in defeat.


Imperial Remnant Flagship,
Imperator-class Star Destroyer Chimaera,
Coruscant System.


The Chimaera was returning as flagship of the Imperial Fleet and a Grand Admiral to Coruscant, Imperial Center. And now she fought for her life in the centre of the greatest battle that Pellaeon had ever managed. The impressively outfitted and further modified Imperator-III was in the thick of the action against the Vong fleet now, for Miat Temm's last coordinates had offered precious little room for correction, or for error.

And the Vong seemed for some reason to be gaining up on his flagship. Perhaps they had detected it was his flagship in some fashion, for the Chimaera was well known. Or perhaps, in a more sinister light, they had some way to detect Miat Temm. But that was no better. Pellaeon had pressed ahead with a few squadrons of Imperators and engaged their equals at close quarters, and having managed to lure off their fighter cover, then hit the lead elements of a reinforcement squadron with a torpedo attack by blastboats.

That in turn had allowed the Hand of Thrawn, leading several more squadrons of ISDs and VSDs, to punch through a briefly created gap and repeat to the Vong forces he was engaging essentially what was happening to the Vong fleet at large. With several dozen Vong ships now being pounded to rubble on their port flank, their cohesion that had held for the first fifteen minutes of the energy-range engagement by both fleets was beginning to disintegrate.

The real question now, that Pellaeon and every Admiral in the Imperial Fleet -- and in the Vong fleet for that matter -- Who really bothered to think at all, would be wondering, was when the Vong's fleet commander would decide to attempt to extricate himself from the situation he was in, and in what fashion. If he did not, the end was now obvious, if one of attrition.

Ahead, the Chimaera's proton torpedoes raced into the battered and cratered hull armour of a Vong 2km cruiser-analogue that was under heavy fire by the guns of the Chimaera and an ISD-I from one side, and partially engaged by the energy batteries of four VSD-Is on the other. This salvo tore deep enough into the hull to let loose great flares of debris, and several of the dovin basals flickered and died.

As the energy shots got through and blasted more of its hull away, yet another massed salvo of proton torpedoes tore into it, and then another, coming in as more of the great turbolaser bolts slammed into the now crippled ship. Finally, the Chimaera ceased fire, leaving a dead hulk it was rapidly passing by, previously damaged in the earlier actions and then overwhelmed by the concentrated fire of many ships.

But the Chimaera's new targets were her own tormentors - Two nearly identical cruiser-analogues being engaged by the Hand of Thrawn, and their own unengaged batteries pouring fire into the Chimaera. The battle continued, but even as the shields of the Chimaera dipped exceedingly low, the combat for Pellaeon's fleet was all going his way, and Elise's battle-weary ships were holding their own -- all they truly needed to do if Pellaeon was gaining.

However, they were doing more than that: Elise's Grand Fleet was steadily gaining the upper hand as Pellaeon sliced through the port of the Vong fleet, and by the simple effect of the awesome firepower concentrated in the nine Executors at the centre of that fleet, which no Vong formation could possibly match, despite numbers and maneuverability - Now that the Grand Fleet and the Vong fleet had worn each other down in speed and endurance, it was a simple matter that if the Executors could bring their energy batteries to range, the damage would be awesome.

And Pellaeon had provided the way for Elise to do that; thus, on both flanks the Vong were hard pressed, and with one near collapse and ships on it completely cut-off and surrounded, and the fire from the other just as intense as on the first day, Tsavong Lah had few options, and the great arbiter of battle, Time, was quickly reducing them...


Tsavong Lah's Flagship,
Battleship-analogue Red Talon,
Coruscant System.


"Warmaster, the Yammosk confirms that fleet cohesion cannot last beyond another thirteen time units with a ninety-two percent probability of that or a lesser time. If we are to withdrawl we must commence the evolution now or the fleet will cease to exist." Trasang Fau - One of Tsavong Lah's staff officers and one of the few Vong who also had the moral courage to also, even now consider withdraw, reported, and then continued with an ominous statement that left the fate of a withdrawl in the Warmaster's hands:

"The War Coordinator cannot effectively predict with any favour of probability which flank a collapse of the fleet would begin on."

Tsavong Lah nodded near-imperceptibly and turned to the display that brought forth the defeat of their effort in all of its terrible splendour. The arriving forces of the Imperial Remnant, now clearly identified as such, had torn into the unengaged flank of the fleet and prevented any attempt to avoid energy range with the lumbering battle line of unknown Imperial forces to the starboard; they now pounded away at the Vong to that side as well.

The view encompassed defeat to every side, and it was a bitter taste for the Warmaster. His prize of Coruscant was gone from his hands for sure at this conjunction of the Imperial fleets - One that had been masterfully executed, beyond any skill of the universe. "Jeedai..." he hissed softly, the word lost in the noise of the bridge. He would find the one who had lost him this battle - Even if this defeat cost him everything else. For himself, and for the memory of his son.

"Prepare for the following fleet evolution: I want.."

"Warmaster!" the ship's captain interrupted him with an almost desperate look. "Before the Gods I beg you - Before the word is given, do not let us withdraw from this system, this capital of the Infidels that we have gained by conquest! Let the fleet instead by formed into a sphere, with the most damaged ships in the center, and the carriers, where they might be protected for repairs - We might stand fast and hold our ground until reinforcements arrive!" He sounded equally desperate; a man grasping at the narrow straws that came into an empty head.

There were an astonishing number of warriors in the world with great courage and yet utterly lacking in any sort of intelligence; that was not part of the selection criteria for the most part. "Do not presume to interrupt me - This is my bridge while I command from your ship, Commander, and I will strike you down for another such presumption. As it is, you have proven your idiocy. Trasang Fau, command the Red Talon while we retire. I would kill you, Commander, but the Gods have been appeased with enough of our blood for our errors on this day!"

In truth the infraction was minor in such a command structure as the Vong had; but if it was not dealt with decisively, Tsavong Lah knew that disobedience to the order to retreat would be the end result, and that could result in heavy losses among largely operational ships.

The Vong fleet could be pursued, and could not go to hyper until it escaped the gravwells of the Imperial fleet - And many of the ships in the fleet were so damaged that against the fresh interdictors of the Imperial Remnant, intentionally kept out of action, they would never escape those grav wells. Some ships would simply have to be left behind as a rearguard unto death.

"Prepare fighter strikes against the following interdictors," Tsavong Lah began, "And all ships capable of following thrust ratios to commence acceleration and reform - The ones not capable of those thrust ratios will transfer power to defence and weaponry and establish mutually supporting positions. Also, the orbital contigent shall stand by for orders, as follows...."


Galactic Empire Flagship,
Executor-class Battlecruiser Hand of Thrawn,
Coruscant System.


Lord and Imperator Sule I Tienyz, Emperor of the Two Galaxies, Commander of the Legions and the Fleets of the Empire, Supreme Warlord of countless souls and worlds alike, watched from the bridge of his most powerful flagship, named after the enigmatic symbol of an enmigmatic man, a man who had been his path to greatness, as his enemies fled.

It was not by far something he was unfamiliar with; he had defeated countless forces in the field, from regimental command to command of entire fronts and invasions of planets, and he had seen men and vehicles flee. To see starships flee was not entirely different, though the grim and fanatical sacrifice of the Vong ships too slow to escape as they turned to engage was something he had only rarely seen on the ground among troops of the enemy.

A calculating fanaticism was a frightening, chilling thing to a rational mind - To the rational mind that was able to truly comprehend its existence at all. Sule, of course, was quite capable of doing so, and thus he understood the task ahead. He was indeed waging a war of extermination, and he had no intent to shrike from it.

His naval liason officer approached, along with the commander of the Varangians and Martina, his wife looking starkly severe in black trousers, crimson tunic and black vest with hair pulled back simply as she walked with him from the communications pit where she had been listening to the com reports coming in from the combatants as they were received.

Martina greatly preferred her dresses; but they would be rather awkward if a vacsuit became necessary - a very, very real possibility in space combat. Hand of Thrawn was not serving as a flagship, but she was right in the line on the port flank and had been in the thick of the action with the Remnant's heavies - But it had not lasted long enough for her, at least, to incur more than minor damage.

"We're now manoeuvring to try and cut off the Vong and Peace Brigade forces in orbit, love. With that force to pound to rubble behind us, Grand Admiral Pellaeon does not want to bother to pursue - Elise's ships are to battered to make the speed necessary to catch up to the fleeing Vong force, and we don't have the strength on our own, anyway. So we're going to see if we can get the orbital force before they can join up," Martina supplied to Sule before the liason officer could say a word; if he was annoyed, it didn't show.

"It's the Grand Admiral's job, dear," Sule replied lightly. "I'm here because I didn't want to get to Coruscant late - And, of course, it would be a bit unfair to thrust these men into this murder without their Imperator sharing the matter. And you're here because I can't get you to stay anywhere safe."

Martina smiled. "Just so. Do you think I could let you wander off on your own? Now, since we are spectators until the surface, let us watch the Grand Admiral at his work."

Sule nodded and chuckled lightly. Inside, he of course knew what it was all about. The Grand Performance; though the danger was quite real, the fact was that ruling an Empire had a stage art to it, even when you were putting yourself as Emperor right into the line of fire. Sule wondered if that made the man volunteering himself to get shot at for said purpose brave or completely insane, no matter the gains.

Oh well; at least on the surface he could consider himself to be earning his rather increased salary. The Imperator would command the troops of the Empire in Person and in Fact when they fought on the ground, and by what he knew and had seen so far of the Vong, that was going to be a thoroughly unpleasant experience. But then, the planet's population was already suffering a thoroughly unpleasant existence.

The Imperator's right fist silently clenched as he watched the display of the fleeing Vong ships. The offense against the citizenry of the galaxy and against his civilization would not go unpunished. For now, the triumph was his, and it would be followed through to the last possible extremity!!


Grand Fleet Flagship,
Executor-class Battlecruiser Conquérant,
Coruscant System.


Elise Kalar-Leben watched as the last of the battered Vong fleet fled into hyperspace. The Vong commander had managed to link up with the orbital forces before Pellaeon could bring them to battle; but now the two Imperial Fleets sat in orbit of Coruscant, in total command of Imperial Center. A ravaged and battered wreck of a once great world, with Vong facilities like cancers on its surface.

It barely mattered to the crews that had fought them for days; there was a weary pleasure in the victory, a sense of supine satisfaction at the victory over the enemy, over the barbarian. The job was not done yet, of course, but the rest of it was largely for the ground-pounders; they'd sent the enemy's navy fleeing with his tail between his legs in a straight-up fight, and in this moment even as Elise saw the world of her birth as a ruined horror beset by the tumors of that monstrous race of the Vong, she was also uplifted by the knowledge that her Grand Fleet had held the line, and in the end pounded its way to triumph over those same monsters.

Out of nearly eleven thousand Vong ships and additional Peace Brigade vessels, pushing a total of over eleven thousand vessels in-system when the engagement began, only six thousand five-hundred had fled, plus the Peace Brigaders. Four thousand two hundred and fifty Yuuzhan Vong starships had been destroyed for the loss of roughly one thousand five hundred Imperial starships. The battle was totally decisive, at least in regard to the control of Coruscant.

Beyond that, however, there were an estimated seven thousand five-hundred Yuuzhan Vong ships in the near vicinity that were massing; once the force they had defeated had been repaired and replenished, another offensive was inevitable. Hopefully the Republic would be able to bring up their fleet strength before that attempt to regain Coruscant occured. If not.. Well, it would all depend on resupply.

And to an extent on control of the surface. Though so far the Vong had not attacked them, they might have batteries there, and more importantly, it would be a massive symbol for rallying support. Elise looked out the windows of her flagbridge, and her gut clenched once more at the sight she observed with her own eyes; the euphoria of victory could not last long in her heart.

She was home, at last. What she saw made her wish that she had never returned, and she could only pray that her family had been evacuated from that nightmare, that monstrous inferno of misery that seemed to well up from the surface to consume you, simply from gazing at the twisted, uneven ruins of destroyed areas, intact areas, and the horrid constructs of the Vong in others.

But already the dropships were racing down under heavy air cover to land the stormtrooper divisions that would secure the landing-points for the main force. The transports had been ordered forward, and the New Republican force at Bilbringi requested.

Elise turned back to Picard and swallowed, thinking of the real-time reports of the retaliatory actions the Vong warriors were already undertaking for the defeat of their fleet, even as they prepared to exact maximum casualties and buy as much time as possible. The savagery was almost beyond human conceptualization; it was not execution, it was not punishment, it was not torture. It was something else, primal and sinister and which even the word evil did not hold within its measure. Even an evil man could claim to be repulsed by what went on below and be believed.

"Now we get to see, Professor, the Lord and Imperator in action." She turned back to the window just as she had said it, her voice simply stating it - Not implying anything, simply stating, that in the next days, the matter would be Sule's and not her's, nor Pellaeon's; before she continued with another fact: "I do not envy my friend's role in the liberation of Coruscant at all; I had the easy task in comparison to what the Vong will create for him down there."

"I envy none of you, Admiral," Picard replied. "I am simply thankful my son survived."

"It is a good outlook to have, Professor. It is the sort which gets someone through a conflict like this."

Picard nodded his head slightly, looking down himself to the surface. "May we send a camera crew - Or several - Down there?" His voice was very quiet. "I.. No.. My people.. Forgot what this was, and what this meant, and the price to be paid for..."

"You want them to see it all," Elise replied after a long minute of silence. "I understand perfectly, Professor. It is up to the Lord and Imperator, of course. But I will provide the historical reference in your favour." She smiled with a grim trace of her former humour.


35304th Stormtrooper Legion
Capitol Sector, LZ-3,
The Planet Coruscant.


The seismic charges detonating somewhat less than fifty klicks way left slight but oh-so-detectable tremors in the ground beneath the command centre. The command post for the 35304th was in fact a camoflauged tent; 70% of their command unit's vehicles had either never made it groundside or had been knocked out within the first ten minutes.

In this rubble-strewn field where the Vong had already reduced the city-scape of Coruscant to the ultimate junkyard, four corps-level formations had been sent in to secure each of the six landing zones around the old Imperial Palace and create secure areas into which the regular army units on the transports could begin to land and deploy.

They had been on the planet for eighteen hours and twenty-seven minutes now, and the 35304th had already suffered 35% casualties in a vicious battle to beat out of the initial landing zones against an incredible and tenacious foe that fought for every inch of ground on a world that was perfectly prepared to be the ultimate grinder of armies and men. According to Imperial Army standards on combat losses, the legion was no longer combat capable and should have been pulled off the line hours ago; instead it was being used for another push to expand the LZ.

Brigadier Paul Danilov was now in command of the 35304th; the Legion's commander had been killed by an infiltration squad of Vong warriors four and a half hours ago. At the rate things were going he would soon be commanding only an augmented decachilliarchy anyway, though - But, incredibly, they were making progress.

Brigadier Danilov had ordered the men of the Legion out time and time again, advancing under the air support provided by the fleet and under their own artillery, and grimly and silently those stormtroopers had advanced -- camoflauged grey for the surroundings, an innovation of the guerilla warfare of the Milky Way -- To fight the Vong at close quarters in the twisted rubble and around the standing ruins.

And slowly the frequency of the bombardments of the medical and supply positions in the center of the LZ had slowed; they had grown largely ineffective, and the airstrikes by the Vong had been spoiled by AA batteries brought further and further forward to establish defensive belts, even as the lines advanced. The total air supremacy of the Imperial fleet was keeping the pockets alive and suppressing the reinforcements that might have crushed them, and slowly and bloodily they advanced, sustaining casualties that would have halted any other units, or collapsed them, and even they, were they fighting on any other world.

This was Imperial Center, Coruscant, the Coruscing Gem of all the Universe, of all Civilization, and every barbarian who had dared trod on it would die. That was the determination of the more than one and three-quarters millions who had landed near the blasted ruin of the Imperial Palace, and that was still the determination of those who lived. And the same one was shared by every other man in each of the other sectors and LZs:

So that, bred by a firey and brutal conflict in which they had endured more than seemed conceivable within less than a single day's action, they shared the absolute determination to hold true to the determination of Admiral Kalar-Leben for her fleet, the battle-cry that was now also a watchword: Emperor Sule and No Quarter!!

Brigadier Danilov sidestepped the headless body of one of the Vong infiltrators - They had not had the time to do more then check the corpses for traps, though passing men had done the work of maiming them for souveniers or out of rage when they'd gotten the chance - On his return from the sole remaining command track back to the tents which now held the Legion's HQ. The only surface-to-space com gear, of course, was still in the command track.

"Colonel Ristoan, Army Central confirms that we must advance on a front of one-point-three kilometers in bredth and extend the depth of the pocket in that area by four hundred and eighty meters down the axis of the Tranis-Wessa Speedway in our area to take care of our end of opening the LZ for the main deployment."

"And we currently have the equivlant of a bichilliarchy in reserve, sir, and that's a scratch force." Danilov's chief of staff replied with disgust. "We're going to have to form the walking wounded as a reserve in case the attack collapses, and that's stretching things. Isn't there any way they can reinforce us with light infantry aboard dropships?"

"Apparently, they're already doing that for other LZs which are in far more grave situations, Colonel, and considering the losses we took in the initial drops they just don't have enough dropships to cover everything - Or light infantry immediately available to send down on them. Army Central thinks we can do it without any help, and so does General Traas. I don't care what General Traas thinks; but we aren't going to let the Marshal down now, are we?"

For the ground-pounders of the Empire, the Stormtroopers and the Regulars alike, Sule I Tienyz was yet and affectionately the Marshal, their Marshal. Danilov smiled at the response inside the command tents alone. Leaning over the map display he brought up the axis of advance they desired, down the massive construct of the Tranis-Wessa Speedway, an ancient combination maglev/motor roadway on multiple levels that had been abandoned for millenia in the lower levels and had now collapsed in the fighting - But the ruins were quite conspicious and comparatively flat.

"Get me the Decachilliarchy commanders, Colonel Ristoan." All they had to do was keep pushing.


Galactic Empire Flagship,
Executor-class Battlecruiser Hand of Thrawn,
Coruscant System.


"We now have clear LZs established in Sectors Capitol, North-West One, North-West Five, North-East Four, South-East Two, South-East Three, South-West One. A total of seventeen clear LZs have been established and the Landing Barges are already unloading in fourteen."

Sule drank from his coffee mug and listened to a summary of the situation that read like a miracle to someone familiar with the situation just hours before. Over a day into the Coruscant Landings the situation was decisively turning towards the Empire.

It had looked for a while like their LZs might be overwhelmed, the Vong on the surface defending it successfully. Certainly it had happened before; the initial attacking forces were massively outnumbered by the defenders, and only massive concentrations of firepower and airpower and a steely determination to ram the shock of the attack home had let them cling to those LZs and expand them.

Of course, the populace of Coruscant was now fighting back hard. They were paying for it, of course, and the slaughter was proceeding at a rate per second which was grusome in comprehension. But the Vong were massively outnumbered by the populace, and that made the equation different; the world they were on was far from friendly, and with their resources diverted, the sky above dominated by the enemy, and the stormtroopers calmly throwing themselves into the inferno irregardless of casualties - Though not with the same deathwish as the Vong, none could match that - The warriors who had taken the galactic capital were being pushed back.

And now the regular infantry was arriving in real numbers, with full support - to the extent that it would be useful in the rubble and skyscrapers of Coruscant - And corps after corps of Imperial troops were landing to regain the tattered symbol of Imperial dignity, to fling themselves against the barbarian under the eye and command of their Emperor.

But the resistance was still something that was fought to the very last measure and beyond; the Vong had nothing to lose and everything to gain by hopelessly fighting until Coruscant was awash in a sea of blood... And with the general battle that was now commencing it could only promise to get worse; there were billions of Vong still on the planet, and in this situation Sule had no doubt that every one of them, nevermind their servitors, would be accounted a soldier.

"A new LZ is designated clear in the Capitol sector, Lord and Imperator - The Third."

"Designate the two hundred and fifth and two hundred and eighty-first Army Groups to prepare to land there as soon as transportation assets can be provided.." Sule checked his readouts and caught the tag warning of the situation in that particular LZ. "Designate the two hundred and fifth as second priority overall currently."

There was a pause of thought; for third LZ was the closest in the Capitol Sector to the Imperial Palace to have been designated clear, and he had made up his mind about this a while ago, but it had been a matter of when. Sule brought up a detailed report on the situation in the LZ; they had made their gains to clear it, but the situation was particularly tenuous, and...

"Prepare the Klingon Guard for transport to the surface immediately - Capitol Sector, Third LZ. We'll reinforce them prior to the arrival of the initial elements of the two-oh-five AG."

"Lord and Imperator!?" Sule's Chief of Staff exclaimed. "But.. To command the battle..?" The sentence was barely coherent, and with good reason. Lifespans were short on the surface, especially among officers.

"It's quite possible to lead from the front with the technology we have these days," Sule replied. "And I have done it before. Regardless of that debate, I want to see the precise situation on the ground. Only so much can be gained from holos and reports."

"Yes, sir!"

Ratok was grinning behind Sule, brightly. "A worthy decision, Lord and Imperator," he rumbled. "The Guard advances before you!"

Sule could always trust on support for such decisions from one sector; Elise had not really chosen a good bodyguard for keeping him out of trouble, just getting him out of it. He chuckled inside of himself only, relieving briefly the tension of calculation and consideration, and then returned to both that and the preparation for the surface - A dark promise, but one that had to be kept.

Regardless of any other factor, he simply had to see with his own eyes what they had done. No matter, and indeed precisely because, how real a holograph could be, he had to go down there and understand what had happened to Imperial Center. And so he would. He finished the coffee and set the mug aside, the old tug of action and the surface again beckoning.


The Klingon Guard's Front,
Capitol Sector, LZ-3,
The Planet Coruscant.


"IDENT-PB-334. We're taking a heavy bug fire from the north tower ruins in grid oh-fourteen - Unable to advance from position," the voice crackled over the com to the sixth bichilliarchy's HQ. "Request mortar suppression, over."

"Colonel Kratha, Second Chilliarchy's seventh century is pinned down by bugs from the north tower in fourteen grid. They want the bichilliarchal mortars to engage in suppression fire."

"Detail one mortar section only, captain, and get Second Chilliarchy's CO on the line - Tell him I want his seventh century reinforced. We need to advance sooner into that complex or else First Chilliarchy's flank will be unsupported!"

Ahead the sky blew up in a display of light; erupting in a mass of colour as fusion devices were employed by the starfighter corps somewhere ahead against Vong reinforcements trying to reach the steadily expanding LZ-3.

They were to far away for more than a distant rumble to be heard a while later; and as the light vanished, again in the night's sky the gentle drizzle came down, the clouds of a planet in turmoil, of climatic weather unleashed for a climatic battle - But here and for now, simply a drizzle, a drizzle of rain that was perhaps rather toxic but for now a trivial detail amongst the horrors - And that drizzle, and the clouds, served to muffle the sound of blaster fire, of plasma fire, and explosions, which echoed all around at the level of the bichilliarchal HQ.

Colonel Kratha looked out for a brief moment to where those fusion explosions faded and turned away. He had seen enough already; the Guard was seeing action, and how they were holding up was a matter to be decided here, at the level of these units which were clawing it out, shot-to-shot, blade-to-blade, hand-to-hand, with the Yuuzhan Vong who escaped the overwhelming air superiourity of the Imperial fleet to stoically reform tattered units and try and swamp the Imperial LZs in sheer numbers.

All along the line the Klingon Guard Legion, more than ten thousand combatants plus the personal bodyguard of the Imperator, pressing out the boundaries of the landing zone and fighting a numerically superiour force that could not hold it back. What was little more than twenty kilometers behind their line the Special Guard and the Imperator stood; and from there Sule I Tienyz directed the entire Imperial effort.

These were perhaps the most motivated and ferocious troops of the Imperial war machine; but they were also not veterans, unless they had previously fought against the Empire, and other foes of the old Klingon Empire - Though Sule had been quite willing to accept such individuals for the sake of their experience and on account of the great loyalty of the Klingons, so the balance of the Klingon Guard was veterans.

Still, this force had been expected to face in its first trial a foe totally alien to what the Empire and the Klingons alike fought; a monster in humanoid form, a swirling bloody soul of depravity that was the nature of a race; the horrific reality behind the culture that drove its members to battle and slaughter in the name of their religion.

And so they had gone down to the surface of Imperial Center, aware both of their traditions, and of the weaponry and tactics and discipline of the Legions of the Empire in which they had been trained; and between these two things their courage had rested, and they had been ordered to advance in the face of these warriors, these warriors who had become like an elemental force of terror - And they had done just that.

But over thirty hours had now past; and there were not ten thousand in the Guard any longer.

Corporal Kragg hunkered down deeper in the rubble-trench as the massive plasma bolts thumped into the debris that had been piled to the left by a combat tractor-dozer, melting plastisteel with a hideous sound. It was against the Klingon instinct to stay low when the enemy fired at you - But that was more culture than biology, and somewhat less than two days on Coruscant had convinced Kragg of the absolute insanity of a great number of his race - Among many other, far grimmer things.

The Sixth Bichilliarchy of the Klingon Guard - And the Klingon Guard was actually somewhat understrength for an Imperial Legion, so the Sixth was the last Bichilliarchy of the Guard - Had advanced with both its Chilliarchies to a position in the Estrani Heights; An area of small hills, the highest was four thousand feet, and they were all quite gentle slopes which had once been covered with massive condominium complexes which were now ruins.

The Third and Fourth Bichilliarchies of the Guard were supporting the Sixth's left flank, and so-on down the line; On the right flank a greater strength of several Imperial Army line infantry Legions were pushing up the Estrani Heights to capture the highest and main sections of the ridgelines; the Sixth had the job of capturing several lower-lying hills on the flanks of the main double-ridge.

If the Estrani Heights could be taken, Imperial artillery would command the roughly one hundred and thirty klick wide and three hundred and eighty-five klick long Ytar Plain - Which led directly for the Imperial Palace, and after being hit by Vong orbital bombardment to support their own extensive landings in the capitol region, had its population essentially exterminated - Which had allowed the Imperials to deploy strategic-level seismic charges to turn the rubble in the Ytar Plain virtually into powder with few pangs of conscience.

All the capital LZs, likewise, had been planned so that they could converge on the plain; and so if the Imperial forces in the third broke through here and brought up artillery which could support their efforts to do so, in a heartbeat it would become a tank battle, one where the Imperials were fully supported from the air. That veritably guaranteed the joining of the capitol LZs.

Of course that meant the Sixth Bichilliarchy had to launch an infantry assault uphill against an opposition that fully knew the results of losing control of the Estrani Heights, nevermind weather that had grown into what was now a fully raging storm - And Corporal Kragg's fortune was naturally to be in the Sixth Bichilliarchy, First Chilliarchy.

Before the heights could be assaulted, they first had to stand against Vong defensive lines burrowed into the rubble directly below the heights, complete with a few of their few surviving vehicles - The weapons mounted on one of those were what Kragg and his company took cover from - And to call the situation apparently bleak in the task demanded of them was a minor understatement.

"Servitor mass-charge!" A voice crackled in Corporal Kragg's com. The somewhat dizzied mentality of what were now fourty hours of endless bombardment and fighting was replaced by the demands of training working on that tough klingon frame which had still been pushed to the limits.

Lt. Colonel Ble'ytar watched as the data came in from the forward sensor feeds her scouts and the regimental scouts had placed before the line they'd dug on advancing to this position, her coffee - brewed to such hideous strength that even a Klingon would like it, and taken black - forgotten and left to cool as the situation started to clear. The adrenaline would keep her awake nicely now, thank you.

There were at least twenty thousand servitors of various races - some even the coral-controlled humans, and armed with technological weapons at the point where the Vong did not care; where the only thing that mattered was every infidel in the grave with them, so let their servitors charge with unclean devices! - And her chilliarchy had eight hundred and fifty-one combat effectives.

The charge was directed entirely at the First Bichilliarchy's thinly held frontage, and the fire from the Vong's supporting vehicles did its suppressive work well.

"We need the legionary artillery. All of it, on that Vong armour, or they can forget about the Heights!" Ble'ytar snapped.

"Yes sir, Colonel! They're trying to jam our coms again but we've got an audible signal through," the regimental communications officer replied. Everything inside the command vehicle seemed so peaceful; the internal realization, comments like that of her officer's, the image on the screen, these things brought together though a picture of the brutality outside; and the data assembled into a picture of the situation swiftly:

The situation was clear in moments, indeed - There was only so much rifles outnumbered fourty-to-one could do, even with support intermixed; and even counting that the weather and the brutal terrain of the rubble would hamper such a charge far more than their defence. But the worst thing to remember about these mass charges was that the Vong warriors had always, always used them as a distraction for some purpose or another.

And of course the Vong warriors themselves hardly needed those kinds of numbers to achieve an effect. There was a Decachilliarchy - No less than the First Decachilliarchy of the 239th line infantry Legion - Being detailed to augment the Sixth Guard Bichilliarchy's push; the Vong had obviously seen it and decided a spoiling attack was the best bet. Naturally they would.

Ble'ytar started giving the necessary orders for her own mortar batteries and infantry - But there was a sick sensation in her stomach, the one that a commander got when the survival of the people under their command was now in somebody else's hands, no matter what they did. Especially central HQ's; though one could hope the Imperator would take a personal interest in his Guard.


Imperial Command HQ,
Capitol Sector, LZ-3,
The Planet Coruscant.


Ratok, commander of the Special Guard, approached his Emperor and saluted. "Lord and Imperator, the Sixth Bichilliarchy of the Guard is in trouble."

Sule turned from a map of the Ytar Plain - A region near CS-LZ-5 was highlighted where forces from that landing zone were now little more than fifteen klicks from the plain, but held up by a massive river which had been created when the Vong had breached assorted underground water tunnels in their bombardments - Nevermind the sewage tunnels which added to the flow; that would be an unpleasant place to fight.

"What's the exact situation at the Heights, Ratok?"

"The Vong just launched a spoiling attack concentrated against one chilliarchy of the Sixth Bichilliarchy. Mass infantry waves and armour support, Lord - Only with ranged fire, however. No word on infiltration squads. They've already got the entire Guard artillery hitting the Vong positions below the heights."

Sule was silent only a moment, then looked to his staff. "What do we have available in the way of reinforcements for the Heights, right here?"

"Well Lord and Imperator.." Colonel Eduardo Santusey began, "The Ninth and the Tenth Terran Legions are landing." He paused for a moment as he consulted his pocket netlink. "We've got the first Chilliarchies of both Legions and two regular Chilliarchies of the Tenth, and three of the Ninth, fully on the ground right now."

"We probably overestimated by how much they'd get diverted to the push along the Tranis-Wessa Speedway - Even though we can use tanks effectively there, it's narrow, constricted, and ambush hell. They know if we get out into the Ytar Plain it's over for them on this region of Coruscant," Sule stated flatly.

"We won't delay the offensive, however. I'm taking the available Chilliarchies of the Ninth and Tenth Terran Legions and the Special Guard Chilliarchy to the Estrani Heights." There was a brief silence; but most of these men had fought with Sule before, and so had seen him willing to take such risks as a Surface Marshal.

"Marshal Quinra, you are now in overall command while I am at General Uloi's headquarters. My staff of course shall remain to conduct operations and assist you." There was perhaps a bit of relief in the air that he only intended to advance personally as far as the 239th Legion's HQ - Or so he had indicated.

"Of course, Lord and Imperator. I am honoured to have the command in your absence!"

"Indeed, Marshal - But your record is the honour which I have been bestowed with. Communications! Get the commanders of the Ninth and Tenth Terran Legions to detail their Chilliarchies which have been fully landed to the Estrani staging point posthaste - If they can get more Chilliarchies assembled in time, so much the better. Ratok, prepare the Special Guard to move out."


The Klingon Guard's Front,
Capitol Sector, LZ-3,
The Planet Coruscant.


At least now they could fight back. The massive artillery barrage that had rained down in the lines ahead of them had brought gaps in the murderous plasma fire, and between them the units of the First Chilliarchy, Sixth Bichilliarchy, had wreaked havoc with the mass of servitors clambering and then rushing forward towards them over the rubble strewn wasteland that seperated the two forces.

The mortars were firing the entire time; century-level, cohort-level, chilliarchy- and bichilliarchy, and the Bichilliarchy's directional artillery. But the huge railguns and blasters, the massive vehicle-mounted mortars and rapid fire MLMS of the legionary artillery; that had done the work which had let the rifles and support weaponry of the chilliarchy go to work.

And that was what really was killing the servitors who were now oh-so-close to them. Even though the enemy's armour had not been fully suppressed, and sometimes those shots tore holes in the line, the Guard still fired, and that rapid aimed fire of the rifles, the searing repeating fire of the E-Webs and automatic grenade launchers; that was taking down the enemy in numbers.

Corporal Kragg continued to grimly fire, his gunsight bringing alive each and every target with a simple perfection through the night; the range was still over two hundred meters but that might as well have been point-blank as the aimed fire continued and the servitors fell to the overpowered bolts of the heavy blaster rifles the Guard carried - Those shots often hitting the unarmoured spots on these slave warriors of the Vong and killing them outright; and otherwise having the sheer power against that less sophisticated armour to leave them in hideous and burned agony on the field.

Then there was a blur of light and a rush of heat; by an instinct older than culture he threw himself into the trench as the detonation of the plasma erupted near enough to sear at his hair. In the noise and heat of the moment, the Vong armour had had a chance under the fire of the legionary artillery to re-engage them. There were screams, oh yes, from there and even among the mightiest warriors, there certainly were.

He picked himself up, leaning against the wall of the trench as the fire continued; and then there was a sound overhead, faintly audible, barely registered. He paid it little heed, but several minutes later the barrage of the divisional artillery intensified once more and a series of secondary explosions, instead of just a few, could be heard - And the armour did not trouble the regiment again.

Corporal Kragg was back on the firing parapet, though. His scope was out of action, but he still had the iron battle-peep sights, the effort of using them at night aided by the iridium inlaid into them, the faintly glowing green and red highlighting the distantly onrushing figures at which he fired again, and again, pausing only to replacing magazines.

A rush of pain and noise and darkness, and then Lt. Colonel Ble'ytar realized that her command vehicle had been hit and was now on its side. Odd, that! They had been in a hollow of sorts in the rubble... Shit. Well, that's where the Yuuzhan Vong proper were, her fuzzy mind decided as she forced herself upright and drew her blaster pistol.

The inherently suspicious mind of a Klingon decided to get out of there, now. The sound of gunfire came outside, shouts and the clanging of metal. "Who's still with me!?" she shouted, and getting only five ayes conscious. Well, that had been some hard blow, then.

"Good! Get the medpacks and check on who's alive and can be moved. I'm going forward to the cockpit." She started to the cockpit hesitantly with the vehicle on its side as it was; clambering into the cockpit was also a rather interesting exertion. But the three man crew there was alright, if all un- or semi-conscious. Outside the cockpit windows, though..

Lt. Colonel Ble'ytar almost reared back in surprise to see the two Yuuzhan Vong warriors there, covering on the 'side' of the vehicle that had originally been the roof. They did not apparently notice her, instead unleashing their bugs against a dekad who had them pinned down, sizing up a route out of the situation. She wondered if they were the only ones responsible for the chaos in the rear areas or not.

But it didn't matter; there was a way to deal with them. She clambered forward and pulled open a cover. Just then one of the Vong turned to her, almost in equal surprise - And then she flicked the switch which in these circumstances would blow the bolts and send the transparisteel cockpit canopy flying clear of the vehicle. She didn't have what would have been the ludicrous fortune to hit either of the Vong with one of the flying bolts; but the canopy hit them, and that was quite heavy indeed.

Ble'ytar was rushing forward to where the two Vong were pinned by the weight of the canopy, then, shouting for the dekad to advance to the overturned command vehicle; for any of her armed aides or crewers inside who were able to aide her. But she would handle them herself if she had to. The DL-44 in her hand went to the face of the first pinned under the canopy, and at point-blank range she fired, killing him instantly and flash-frying his brain inside his skull.

She was leveling the DL-44 with the face of the other Vong, trapped by both legs, when the swiftly perfect organic blade he wielded cracked through her armour and into her stomach.

The Vong might have taken a moment to enjoy to continue inflicting damage until he saw absolute agony on the face of the infidel before him; but he didn't have the time. He flung the still-living woman aside with his staff and started to lift the canopy. He nearly had it off of his legs when a flurry of blaster bolts struck home; the stabs of the vibro-bayonets that came after were totally unnecessary.

"Contact with chilliarchal HQ is lost! Does anyone know what's going on back there?" the voice crackling in open over the line was identified; slightly panicked.

"Negative, negative. We're trying to ascertain it. We can't reach Bichilliarchal HQ either! Can someone tell me if we should investigate? This is second Cohort XO - I think I have the entire left flank!"

Even for Klingons panic in battle was possible; they were after all mortals. And the strategy of the Yuuzhan Vong all along had been to expend their servitors while using their more precious warriors to either outflank or infiltrate, to destroy the command centers of the Imperial army, to destroy its cohesion and thus bring about victory - As they had tried now with, indeed, the entire Sixth Bichilliarchy, and it particular its first Chilliarchy.

"Steady there! All of you steady, you damned curs!" A voice snapped over the comlines, and bellowed likewise over the roar of battle in the trenches. A sargeant, a veteran of many campaigns in the military of the Klingon Empire - He spoke with such authority that some new recruits would later swear it had been a general officer coming forward to rally the unit, or so it was said at any rate:

"Hold to your posts and don't worry about the rear! Keep the line steady and nobody leave it, for nothing - We'll win by keeping our backs to the back and our fronts to the front and shooting at the enemy!! There's nothing else we've got to do, so just hold steady, damn you all, and we'll have this one for the Emperor yet!"

His words came at the right moment; enough of his spirit bellowed over the com to some, enough shame was inflicted upon others. The line held, resolve was given to the surviving commanders, or those who had inheirited their posts, as, after all, all they had to do was hold their ground.

Bichilliarchal command was a ruin; but in the second chilliarchy, largely untouched except for some suppression fire which had now been dealt with by the artillery, Major Witark saw an opportunity even as the situation was at its lowest for the first chilliarchy. He had survived the attack of the Vong infiltrators sent against him; the guards around his HQ had fought them off.

And ahead of him the intelligence provided by the spotters - who earlier had flown in daringly low and suffered bad casualties for it in their speeders to get the pinpoint data to take out the Vong armour - And by his own scouts on the ground had shown that the Vong were exceptionally thin on the front before him; perhaps fifty or somewhat more warriors, and six or seven thousand servitors.

It was apparent that the Vong were conserving most of their warriors here for an actual defense of the heights; but the fact that they were down to one warrior for every one hundred and twenty servitors in the trenches in front of him - even with the warriors being used for the infiltration missions - Was a clear indication of weakness.

Well, unless it was a trap. But the risk was a decent one; tens of thousands of the Vong's slaves had already been committed to the slaughterhouse on his left flank against the first regiment. Now it was time to counterattack and take the pressure off, no matter how much mincemeat had been made of the Sixth Bichilliarchy's command structure.

He had two cohorts under his command - eleven centuries counting the scout century; and his plan was quite simple. Both would advance, and then at the right moment the cohort on the left would pivot. The execution would be a different matter; but that was up to the bravery of the troops. As for his rear - Well, legionary HQ said that several detached centuries of stormtroopers mounted on speeder bikes were arriving to engage the infiltration squads and should in fact be there already.

He'd have to trust that HQ wasn't to far off in their time estimate. The final piece had come together when he had gotten close air support for the assault, which had been sorely lacking throughout the entire battle except for the spotters.

Witark smiled grimly and brought up his com. "Majors! You have your orders - Commence the advance!"

Four and a half hours later, as the sun beamed down over the bloody charnel house below the Estrani Heights, the Sixth Bichilliarchy of the Klingon Guard, attrited by 37% in absolute casualties, had held its position and advanced, completely dislodging the enemy from their own defences below the heights - Advancing with a combat force of roughly 2,010 in the face of the onslaught of some 40,000 of the enemy; though admittedly only on average one out of every hundred of those had been an actual Vong warrior.

Among the casualties was the Colonel of the Bichilliarchy, both chilliarchal commanders, and three of the bichilliarchy's four Cohort commanders. Casualties among NCOs and officers were 62%; nearly double that of the proportion of total casualties for the Cohort on average. The Sixth Bichilliarchy of the Guard had indeed done everything that Sule had expected of that force, and as the sun rose over that shattered world, the Lord and Imperator of the Galactic Empire planned the attack which - if it carried the Heights - Would also carry him to his predecessor's palace.


Vong Central Military Facility,
Capitol Sector Locality,
The Planet Coruscant.


She whimpered. The hell would not go away; it would not go away! They were everywhere, countless in number, overwhelming the soul with an oppressive force, a destroying force.. The souls of the slain were a tidal wave of terror and sadness and longing, a murky and indistinct horror that still threatened to oppress and annihilate that which could feel their trace remnants - Those who could feel the force.

The miasma which likewise hung around Alderaan here was a stench that to Miat Temm sought to crush her by its existence; for Alderaan had sought to be less populous, a glorious world in its beauty with many colonies for the excess population. Coruscant was the capital, stuffed to the brim to serve the needs of State and the desires of the whole galaxy, and those who had come to the world, ignoring the devastation it had suffered before, and served to repopulate it - They had died while the world yet lived, in numbers greater than Alderaan had ever boasted.

And now all their hopes and aspirations and loves and desires, all their hates and longings and envies, all their fears and the sickening knowledge of their last terrors - A knowledge had without actually knowing it, in a way beyond the comprehension of one who did not feel it striving against their mind, as a blanketing, engulfing force of nature - These things sought to overwhelm Miat Temm without truly seeking it; and thus they did, driving her ever down into the despair of the sense of the cloud of evil and death, and the unique touch of its every aspect, that hung around this world that had been forever accursed by the atrocities committed upon its surface.

Even as the Imperial troops above fought above with an utter determination to save Coruscant, Miat Temm herself had realized in her quiet and lonely struggle that after a fashion the Yuuzhan Vong had already destroyed the planet. They had given it an air of evil, an air of horror, a memory of death beyond that of any other in its history, one that it would be hard for the people of the world to indeed ever forget - And even if they did, would still linger on. The Force had been altered here, by the sheer number of souls torn from their bodies and twisted back into it even as their mortal husks still screamed in agony.

And it would be so tempting to join them. Or otherwise avenge them. She had gone down to the surface to do that, after all; and this mission, into the depths of one of the Vong's organic bases - not yet destroyed for the sheer number of slaves within it, tens of millions, hostages to force the Imperials to fight to clear it - had tested every skill. Like an old Imperial Hand she had relied on her Force cunning and only the very best equipment of the Ubiqtorate; but the one thing she could not hold back was the horror of the planet its self.

That had gotten to her from the moment she had set foot on it - Even from orbit! - and so even as it had worked upon her it had forced her onwards, for though those shades could never have a voice, could never have form, like the souls of powerful force sensitives who lingered on after death, for they were just presences, emotions, concepts, remembrances, they could press a sense, an emotion, upon her - A demand, that shrieking howl for vengeance!

And so she had gone, straight on with the mission, until the other senses had overwhelmed her; and so it might very well be that the dead could claim another victim, a soul to rest with their own. But as that omnipressive call lashed and rolled over her essence of being, pounding all of what she was into a thousand small-deaths of despair and horror and murderous rage; an insatiable conflict with in her..

So it was then that she still had the strength of will to resist being torn in either direction, the power of a single living being overcoming the half-remembered desires of the countless half-formed shades. But it seemed that those were the only directions open; that she must either act in vengeance or that she must succomb, and her will was not infinite.

She reached out, then, to try something that might hold back the tide, and in the mass of despair and souls, and where the force had been twisted by the perversity of the deeds committed here; where the black and the evil had been committed beyond any rival by those who did not even understand its nature - In this place, she understood.

Miat whimpered. In a moment the threat of the dissolution of her essence was gone. She slowly forced herself up, and then proceeded on the mission. She understood; and so the action took on a purpose, a certain one for which the focus was still coming together. That did not matter; time not to be hurried in any actions. She understood.


(To be concluded)

[Ted]

WOOHOO!
First reply.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

(Conclusion Chapter the Eighth)

43rd Army HQ,
Capitol Sector, LZ-3,
The Planet Coruscant.


Sule I Tienyz reviewed the last preparations. Five Legions against the main double-ridge, and five Bichilliarchies of the Ninth Terran as the reserve. The detached First Decachilliarchy of the 239th and three Bichilliarchies of the Tenth Terran against the hills to the left flank; the battered Sixth Guard Bichilliarchy and the Special Guard Chilliarchy were the reserve there. The general reserve consisted of a sixth line infantry Legion and a Fourth Bichilliarchy of the Tenth Terran.

The incredible performance of the Sixth Guard Bichilliarchy was what would allow the offensive to go through, of course. But there were many, many Vong warriors in fortified positions up on those hills - They had spent their servitors so they could bring in more genuine Yuuzhan Vong, and strengthen their positions against air attack and artillery alike, nevermind the men who would have to advance uphill.

However, the showing of the Guard had confirmed Sule's faith in his men. As long as they controlled the skies they would conquer; he could feel it, now, gazing up at the heights with a trusty old pair of macrobinoculars.

"The 2345th Legion reports that their fourth, fifth, eighth and eleventh Bichilliarchies are now in position, Lord and Imperator. All units are positioned at the jump-off points."

"Only seven minutes late. We're doing rather well for this kind of push, Eduardo," Sule replied, lowering the macrobinoculars. He had now only a light guard of fourty men around him; otherwise he trusted his soldiers to provide his protection.

"Do we commence, Lord and Imperator?"

"A three minute delay to let them rest," Sule answered. "No more."

"Understood, sir."

The macrobinoculars returned to Sule's eyes, as he gazed at that long and low-slung ridge; once merrily covered with countless buildings, each reaching for the stars and holding the residences of countless thousands. Now it was covered in masses of rubble which it seemed impossible that anyone could attack up; yet he was asking his men to do just that.

Then: "T plus Ten, Lord and Imperator."

"Order the infiltration units forward; adjusted to delay."

"Yes, sir!"

Now there were men clambering forward, up through that rubble from the Imperial positions, units chosen to go in first. It was not, of course, the sort of wholesale slaughter it might have been, when combat was joined - For the broken nature of the field, with all the rubble, worked both ways. But trying to advance in that hell presented a different challenge. They needed to break out; the number of troops now being stuffed into the LZs was getting ludicrous, and the defensive terrain provided the Vong with every advantage against the Imperial air power.

And soon combat would be joined here, for the sake of that hope. Sule checked his chronometer, and then brought up his wrist com and activated it. The channel he had chosen, on his unit, went out automatically - albeit through a relay - to every single com receiver in the entire force.

"Soldiers of the Empire! Today your Emperor asks of you a certain hard task" - And so for the first time he claimed the full title, here on Coruscant with the Imperial Palace in his grasp, if his men could carry those heights - "We must now advance against the barbarians, and show them the courage and ferocity of an individual who is civilized, and fights for his comrades and for his home and family; and not for blood and the pleasure of slaughter.

"Up there they disdain us; up there they disdain your Emperor! Well, your Emperor says this to you: Advance and throw them off those heights, and toss their disdain down with them. You perform under my gaze, and I promise you that not a meritous deed shall go unrewarded - But also, should the victory ever be in doubt, you might be assured that I shall advance with you and share the trial of the hour!"

"T plus twenty-five sir."

"Commence the barrage."

The artillery opened fire; the guns pounding down upon the heights with an awesome and terrible ferocity. But moreover, over the uppermost reaches of the heights, streaming down from the heavens, the green lances of turbolaser bolts; these detonated into flak bursts high in the air over the Heights, churning the air with ozone, burning it a brilliant green and setting it into an horrific roar, a terrible carnage of concussive sound over and behind the defenses even if they did not deign to melt the ruins and ground and Vong to glass and clay.

"T plus twenty-eighty-point-eighty-five, sir."

"The Sixth Army shall advance." Infantry and combat vehicles, going up the slope, timed to get to where the Vong had been pounded just as the artillery ceased to fire; then it would be providing pinpoint support instead of that massed suppression fire. They went up, and they went in, straight up the inferno into hell.

Sule did not need to make good his promise and leave his command post for the front; for the heights were carried and then secured in six days; the victory had not been in doubt.

Four days later the 1230th Armoured Legion met up with the 981st Armoured Legion on the plain of Ytar; they were from the 3rd and 5th LZs respectively. The heart of Coruscant, the heart of the Empire, beckoned.




De Imperatoribus Galacticis will be continued in Chapter the Ninth.

[Ted]

Was it too long to be put in one post Marina?

My Lord.



Atleast DIG has been continued.

[Evil Sadistic Bastard]

Well, if this is one chapter the book's going to kick ass.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

De Imperatoribus Galacticis

"On the Galactic Emperors"

Chapter the Ninth.

(As continued from Chapter the Eighth.)



The Imperial Palace,
Capitol Sector,
The Planet Coruscant.


The ruined core of the Imperial Palace was totally destroyed; the fusion device had done a good job of that. But the sheer size and impressive construction of the monster had insured that the Palace could survive even a fusion detonation, at least in part. The wings were actually still habitable, at least after they had cleared away the vong growths.

It was in the bare stone of one of these rooms that simple portable camp chairs and a multi-length table had been used to assemble a meeting room for the various commanders of the Imperial forces, and the Republican delegates.

The fighting continued on Coruscant; oh it brutally continued! But now fifteen days had past since the fall of the Imperial Palace to the Klingon Guard, and before that precisely twenty days since the first joining of two LZs on the plain of Ytar.

The reason for the meeting was to mark the occasion of more than fifty percent - fifty-three percent to be precise - of the planet's surface being declared secure. Of course, other important issues were to be discussed: For now in orbit of Coruscant there were numerous Republican squadrons, survivors of First Coruscant and others, and Republican troops on the surface.

But the balance, of course, remained Imperial in both areas - And the people regarded Sule as their saviour. Out of 960 trillion citizens on Coruscant, it was estimated that 530 trillion would still be alive when they were finished securing the planet; the level of ferocity of the conflict was in part demonstrated by the fact that there were currently estimated to be some 585 trillion still alive - Though that estimated included mass slaughters by the remaining Vong defenders.

For the survivors who had endured something no civilian, no individual whatsoever, ought rightly be subjected to, it was however more than enough that it had simply be ended and would be ended entire - The outcome was inevitable now. And as Elise had promised, to the military and to the people of her homeworld, there would be no mercy whatsoever:

In the ruins of various amphitheatres, the public executions of the Vong and servitors who had been captured - Regardless of caste or rank, they were all treated the same; and in the simple chaos of such a massive engage, it was inevitable that even full Vong warriors would sometimes be captured against their will - Continued in more and differently impressive and creative fashions; in the same way, every transport not needed for military supplies was now impressed to bring in the basic necessities for the survivors, distributed in public locations in the name of the Emperor.

The celebration even by the starvlings had reached lunatic proportions in some cases; to be delivered from the depths of hades into a poor and savage mediocrity was to be saved unto heaven for those who had suffered through the very worst and unimaginable of that savage conception.

For the victorious Empire, it was the completion of the most holy crusade a deistic society could muster; but at the same time it was a deadly warning, for there would be battles like this again, and the 'mopping-up' of this one was not over yet, and promised to kill millions before it was. The campaigns, the wars - Who knew how they would be. But for the moment the flag of Empire waved over Coruscant, the Lord and Imperator stood triumphant in the ruins of the palace, and The Victory March of Coruscant was already composed.

For Sule I Tienyz, however, nothing had been completed whatsoever. This was most evident by the emissary who was coming to meet him, nominally on behalf of the Republic and most likely on behalf of a collection of assorted admirals and generals who had personal loyalty to the Jedi and this one individual.

He had sent back to a research facility on Luna for several of the creatures which Thrawn had provided for the expedition; in case the Milky Way should have a native force-using population. Then and only then had the Supreme Warlord of Coruscant, the Imperator of the Galactic Empire, consented to meet with a rather innocuous, dark-haired and middle-aged woman of noble features.

Sule had a healthy sense of paranoia when it came to the Jedi, and Luke Skywalker's sister would be a particular concern. He could only imagine the possible designs of that order against a man who had claimed the Imperial throne - But he was here to treat with a proclaimed representative of the Republic, and she was the woman who had come forth.

And so Leia Organa-Solo, heir of fallen Alderaan, would treat with a man who claimed himself the heir of the Emperor and Empire who had killed her homeworld; a man who claimed to hold total dominion over two galaxies, and held it in fact at least in part.


The Planet Terra,
Region of Tibet within Administrative
District of China.


"This way please, sir. He is in here."

The monk led the Imperial officer, attired in a Captain's uniform, the first visitor that their exiled prisoner had been sent by the Lord and Imperator, it appeared, short of the regular checks of the guards. Of course the monks had consented to the company of this man; it was manifestly better than his execution, after all, and so far he had really made decent company for someone who was by all accounts utterly amoral.

Hamner Davion looked up as the door to his quarters - as equally spartan as the rest of the Buddhist monastery - opened, and a single man entered. He was unfamiliar, but Hamner recognized a uniform that he had not seen in roughly two months: That of a captain of the Imperial Starfleet.

The former Grand Moff of the Imperial Milky Way territories sighed; so Sule had finally deigned to recognize that he still lived, but had done so by no-doubt sending one of Elise's partisans to further torment him. Well, he had tormented himself enough as it was, but if the man was going to give him any precise information he would endure it for that alone.

"Greetings, Captain. It is a pleasure to have what I have is an informal visitor." Hamner's voice was that of studied calm; those two months confinement had worked on him... In certain ways. He had no desire to continue them, but the monastery was of course not the only containment here.

"Greetings, Mister Davion. I am indeed an informal visitor." The captain replied, not giving his name, as he sat and folded his legs, seeming quite comfortable on the floor as he looked across at Hamner. "I see the historical records of this region, at least, have kept you from boredom," he noted after a moment, surveying some of the ancient books in the room.

"Indeed they have, Captain. I take a solace in the fact that I had learned the largest ethnic language of my conquered subjects before this came to pass - Without the ability to read Chinese characters the exile my daughter preserved me for would pass much more harshly. I think that in her wisdom she perhaps chose the location with that in mind. Or perhaps that is simply the wish of a father betrayed," Davion continued, unleashing a tinge of bitterness at that moment.

"Her Ladyship the Empress is not someone slight these days," the captain noted. "But I suppose that all things considered, Mister Davion, your position is not likely to get worse, though for the sake of my own I will not further comment on the matter."

Davion smiled slightly and chuckled, shaking his head. "You do yourself a credit, Captain. I'll accept that as a fair peace offering between us. What, exactly then, did you come for?"

The captain smiled pleasantly. "To inform you of news from the Milky Way. It is good news altogether, though.. I do not know if you will like to hear it."

Davion was silent for a moment, before he replied: "I think that I would like to hear that the Emperor is back, the true Emperor, Palpatine, and is ordering me freed and restored to my post, and Sule thrown down. But I would rather simply see Sule overthrown by another fashion, to be blunt - For I fear for my daughter."

Another moment of silence. "Now I suppose you are going to tell me that the Emperor is surely and truly dead and my fears were the fears of his shadow, groundless terrors of an old man who had seen his visage. And I suppose you are also going to tell me that Sule and that lunatic Kalar-Leben have checked the Vong. I would not be surprised with either thing now; for I've had time to consider my errors."

"And you would be correct, Mister Davion. In alliance with the Imperial Remnant, the Lord and Imperator has directed the Imperial fleet; which in a multi-day naval engagement over Coruscant defeated the Vong; the victory goes to the joint glory of Pellaeon and Kalar-Leben. Then the Lord and Imperator himself directed the efforts to clear Coruscant on the ground, which still continue, though the remnants of the Imperial Palace are now occupied."

Davion laughed, now, ruefully and his voice traced with a deeply shown bitter regret, now. "Imagine that. The young and bold general striding in the Imperial Palace as the colossus of the entire universe! I imagine my daughter's subtle flattery and the allusions of the madwoman have fairly stuffed his head - At least Palpatine had the power of the force to back up his claims."

The captain was studiously silent, merely listen to the fallen.

"Now, Captain, I suppose this is all very poor ground for me to tread on - But let it be said that I admire his venture even so. It will take incredible courage and skill, tenacity and determination, to hold what he has grabbed up by the bite of his teeth. I am an older man; but the briar patch's treatments make me feel young enough, and so I rather must live in regret here that I never had the chance to try what he tried, because of the shadow of that wizened old sorcerer hanging in the recesses of my mind!" Davion finished his rant and looked the captain across from him, almost with an accusatory glare; the captain returned a slight smile.

"Grand Moff Davion, it is a pleasure to know that you feel that way. Do you really think the entire Empire, though, is pleased with Sule Tienyz? Or for that matter our subject races and 'allies'? That has never been the case - Things were organized against you, for that matter, which can now be a great service to you, because you are now at the very bottom of your hopes, and those powers and individuals think that you might thus be amiable to an agreement."

The room was silence as minutes passed; but then they were just minutes, and it was a monastery. Nothing would be overheard, nothing would be repeated, even if it was. Hamner Davion stared at the captain across from him, suddenly uncertain of who he was, uncertain as he considered the branch of salvation being dangled before him.

"What do you want from me?"

"Certain protections and guarantees for certain nations... And a promise that you will accept the Imperial title. We do not expect the nations in this galaxy to be restored in full by your victory; and my allies are realists enough to know that even 'free' once more they shall be Imperial vassals - But at least vassals, not provinces."

"As for your acceptance of the Imperial title... We want that, Grand Moff Davion, because it gives you equivlancy with Sule. He is Emperor now, no doubt about it. You have to challenge the Imperial title - Winner take all. You cannot simply be a Grand Moff - If you are, you're a Rebel. If you take the Imperial title, you're a Contender.

"Furthermore, you were the legitimate Grand Moff; so if you claim the Imperial title you may hold more sway than Sule does, at least with some groups and peoples. But that is a discussion for another time. I want to know; would you agree?" The Captain looked intensely at Davion.

Davion considered the matter; he wondered briefly if he was being led into a trap to confess his desire for the Imperial dignities in full, and thus justify his execution. He certainly wouldn't put it above Elise at least.

On the other hand, he didn't want to spend his entire remaining - and probably rather lengthy - life in a monstery. And he could read Chinese texts elsewhere. "Speaking hypothetically, of course, I would need the assurance of the confirmation of my being hailed in the first place, and of the assurance of the integrity of the powers inherent in the Imperial Office."

"You would have both; we're working on the first and the second is guaranteed, as long as you uphold anything agreed to before the assumption of the Imperial Dignities," the captain replied.

Well, that seemed to preclude entrapment. "I agree, then. I would accept the Imperial Dignities for your cause, and my own." He was back in the game.

"Thank you, Grand Moff Davion. I believe this arrangement will indeed satisfy our mutual desires - And we will speak again soon, perhaps under different circumstances." The captain rose, and Davion rose as well, and shook his hand.

"Until we meet again, then," Hamner replied.

The man nodded once. "Until we meet again. Enjoy your reading, then, and the peace while it lasts - Though I would not disturb the peace of this monastery at all. One of the few places in the universe that still has it." The captain smiled, rather sadly it seemed, and left the room, pausing to speak to one of the monks outside - An idle conversation from what Davion could tell, or perhaps an assurance of the peace of the monastery - And then left.

Hamner Davion did indeed return to his reading; for he figured he'd likely go mad if he pondered everything the visit had left him to think about.

Outside, Line Captain Harlann Estan Quir of the Imperial Starfleet gave his ID - patently false, but of course the most excellent of forgies - To the guards who now served as gaolers of former Grand Moff Hamner Davion.

It was necessary, obviously, because of what he planned to do, and the fact that it needed to be concealed. It was also necessary because all official records listed him as being killed along with all hands of his ship the H.I.M.S.S. Xanithar in an engagement with the Sheliak twelve and a half years ago. As Harlann got in his aircar, which the driver who had no idea of who he really was promptly started off on the decently long trip to Nanjing, he smiled slightly. The thoughts in his head were his alone.


The Imperial Palace, Capitol Sector,
Palace Landing Platform KI-17,
The Planet Coruscant.


The Victory March of Coruscant played for only the second time from a full band, a march who's inaugeral performance had been but the day before yesterday. The strains did not have the haunting air of the Imperial March - It was a song of clearly, brilliantly calling trumpets, ratting drums, and crashing cymbals, a solemn and slow march but a haughty and proudly bold one, too, that flatly declared in its tune what its name said - That Coruscant was gained by the Empire in war.

Leia Organa Solo felt a twinge of wryness at that as the music finished; like many things of the Galactic Empire, it was a half-truth, for the planet, though declared 'secure' for her arrival, was still a warzone, and a desperately fought one at that, if the contest was one inevitable now.

But she had no desire, even considering the Republic's position or the fact that until a few weeks ago she had been living in a refugee camp, to allow anything to the Empire. No. Not even the fact that they alone now might have the power to rescue her son unless she dared to risk her family again for it. An inner core of discipline locked down the grief and the fear and kept it where it ought to be, for she had a duty to the Republic that transcended her family's safety; the same thing that had allowed her to survive watching Alderaan's casual annihilation without going mad.

And so when they sent a mere corporal out to receive her, not a diplomat, not a high ranking military officer, but a mere corporal of their army, it raised her hackles already. She tried to probe for the motive in it - And so would have Jaina, who stood at her right side. But she understood one part of this agreement very well. The force was not something Sule Tienyz wanted near him.

That appeared to be a trait among more competent Imperial commanders who did not possess force abilities themselves; Thrawn, after all, had not gone anywhere without his Ysalamari, and apparently Sule had them too. And then moment the shuttle had landed it had become quite clear that the landing platform was in the area of effect of some.

"I really don't like this, honey." Han muttered from her left side. "Calculated insult or two hundred percent paranoia? Either way it ain't good for us. He's not even a member of.. Sule's.. Guard." Han had spent much of the trip inventing less than endearing nicknames for the new Emperor of the Galactic Empire, and apparently now had to remind himself not to use them.

Leia simply ignored her husband; the corporal was getting too close for a running commentary. The last thing they needed was to get this off to a potentially worse start - As if it wasn't bad enough already. Someone had proclaimed himself Emperor and held Coruscant, the Republic was in shambles, and, oh, trillions of people were dead. The last was so chilling, such a brutality in the force, that she had been quietly thankful of the Ysalamari in a sense.

"Her Royal Highness Princess Leia Organa-Solo, Heir of Alderaan, Senator, Envoy." The corporal came to attention and saluted. "The Lord and Imperator Sule I Tienyz, Emperor of the Two Galaxies, acclaimed Warlord of Coruscant, holder of various other titles and protector of many nations and peoples, greets you and your party and invites you to enter the Imperial Palace that you may discuss all the affairs of State that are extant between His Person and the government which by was recognized by various nations and peoples to be legitimate in areas of this galaxy."

The corporal looked and sounded like he had carefully rehearsed that mouthful of diplomatic nicety and would have greatly preferred to say 'Rebels'.

Han muttered something under his breath which Jaina and Leia both figured was along the lines of "Well, that's ambiguous", though there was probably something else in the sentence. Thankfully the corporal ignored it; he was at least twenty years younger than Han and that would have been diplomatically rather bad.

"Corporal, I am no longer a Senator, and that title is an inappropriate address for me," Leia replied, deciding to firmly grasp the situation; a situation that seemed designed to entirely break up diplomatic protocol. "Furthermore, that considered, were I to be treated as a senator or even as an envoy from a government that the Imperator and acclaimed Warlord considers legitimate, it would be appropriate to send a diplomat of equal rank to meet me."

The Corporal looked with disdain into Leia's eyes and she knew she had been had, though for what purpose was not clear yet, as he spoke with equal disdain in his voice. "Madame, I am a veteran of Coruscant, a common soldier, and when this duty is done I shall go back to the front. Any man who has fought to save the souls of this planet as I have, and done the things I have for the sake of civilization, may treat with anyone like an equal, envoy or aristocrat."

"Now, if that is not good enough for your, Madame, then just say so and I shall go tell my Emperor that, and if he still deigns to treat with you for the sake of the Empire then he'll no doubt send some bureaucrat out here to suit your tastes."

Leia had a hand on Han's should to gently keep from doing anything to the corporal; and she knew Jaina was seething, too - Very angry in fact, though she was not entirely sure why. They'd been had, alright... Oh. She caught sight of the vid cameras, then - Not just Imperial media, but daring lunatics who'd arrived with the Republican forces in the past month, and intentionally positioned by the Imps to be least visible to them but still get a great shot - and of course great audio - of their shuttle. Great. Round one, Empire.

"That will not be necessary, Corporal. What you have said is certainly true; and I was concerned only for the forms of diplomacy. But here where we have common cause against the Vong they are of no matter and I should have acted to that principle sooner."

"Then I shall take you to the Lord and Imperator, Your Royal Highness."


The Imperial Palace, Capitol Sector,
Diplomatic Conference Room (Former Library),
The Planet Coruscant.


The man had it, alright. The charisma - The aura. The same thing that had surrounded Palpatine and had nothing at all to do with the Force. It was the thing that brought tyrants and demagouges to power, from times imemorial to Xim the Despot to the Republican era. No wonder Sule's troops had suffered such hideous casualties fighting the Vong on Coruscant and seemed to love him even more for it.

There were several other people of note in the room; two men, two women. And though it was spartanly furnished, the old and ruined library stripped of its books, a few new ones had been replaced upon its shelves even as the stuff of a diplomatic conference had been brought in - And another curious relic had been hung over one wall, right behind Sule.

It was a picture of a man astride some riding beast she could not recognize. The man wore a heavy grey, fur coat and an oddly shaped hat; he was finely dressed, and similiar men rode around him. Packed formations of marching troops were in the background, and things were distantly burning.

In the foreground, hauntingly real, dead bodies covered with snow lay in heaps. A man knelt in supplication before the principle figure, to kiss a golden sigil, upon which was engraved a stylized bird of prey. And in the eyes and the face of that principle figure was the same aura, just barely, imperfectly yet still just so, captured upon the canvas, as it showed upon Sule's face.

Leia looked from the artwork to those at the table, not allowing herself the time to be obviously pondering it, and what precisely it meant to have it so obviously behind Sule.

"Princess Organa-Solo," Sule I Tienyz stated from his position at the head of the table. "I greet you. Please, come in and sit. I am a military man; and I think we ought to get to business, since we both know who we are. Though first I must apologize."

"Apologize?" Leia inquired.

"For the incident with Corporal Treis. I awarded certain special duties to those who had performed so well in the battle, that otherwise they might be awarded the same medal twice, or so on - Such honours are more important than medals to the Imperial mind, anyway. But at the same time, in a sense, he wasn't a corporal but an envoy - And he thought of himself like an envoy and spoke his mind bluntly."

"But what I need to apologize for," Sule continued, "Is not informing you, and thus setting it up so that you thought it was all a breach in diplomatic protocol. Purely my fault; and I wish to offer you a formal apology now."

After we're in a sealed meeting, while the incident has already gone out on the holonet. Quite kind of you, Your Majesty. "My thanks, Lord and Imperator, and the apology is most graciously accepted. Such misunderstandings happen in the course of affairs."

Leia's party had of course included guards, Jaina, Han, and a droid for recording. She noted that in either a ludicrously lavish or rather simply primitive style, there had been no droids at all brought down with the Imperials. Of course those on Coruscant were virtually all destroyed - But the Imperials themselves seemed to have very few.

Now, though, she just had the droid with her, and it stood to her left as she sat at the opposite end of the table from Sule. Now the man who, as he had claimed at least, had been proclaimed Emperor by popular will, regarded the representative of an elected government across a relatively short span of modular table.

"Do you like the painting?" the woman to his left asked almost innocuous, a sort of droll voice that was incredibly weary but held a charm of its own. She looked rather weary, as well, but a sort of ageless figure with a solid core that had built around hardship. She was not at least your average Imperial; and she wore a Grand Admiral's uniform that matched that of the distinctly uncomfortable Pellaeon.

"I find it an interesting choice. Where is it from?" Leia asked. The Imperials had been slight on details beyond 'awesome victory' - certainly no tri-vids - but the woman was almost certainly Elise Kalar-Leben, the commander of the Imperial Grand Fleet at Second Coruscant. She already promised to be another interesting Grand Admiral.

"Terra. Our capital world in the Milky Way. It's called Napoleon at Eylau. I thought it would be appropriate; the painter was Antoine Jean-Gros. Sule cannot decorate anything and Martina no longer has the time; though of course she thinks what I do is hideous."

"Beware Elise's humour, Princess," Sule said with a polite and slightly wry smile. "It comes at the oddest of times; I cannot blame her now, though. She was born and raised on Coruscant, and her family is missing - One can imagine the crush of that when duty is not pressing, indeed? Death is all around, and we can accept that, and even the death of civilians, as simply a fact of war, as we are trained to do it. But to imagine one's family subjected to horrible tortures is another thing."

Leia looked back to those intent and odd green eyes; Perhaps so. But she had also met some quite mad Imperials in her time. The other woman, though, then must be the Empress Martina. Those eyes - Those were the eyes of a predator. One who, if Leia judged it right - And without the force, even the small element she used, it made things so annoyingly uncertain, even if it didn't remove the skills she had learned - had precisely what she wanted and was now protecting it.

"Now, for the first order of business," Sule continued after a moment. "I believe that ought be simply coordination between the Imperial and Republican forces against the Vong; both here on the planet's surface, and navally."

"The Republic is not certainly not adverse to this. General Antilles will remain in orbit with the Lusankya, in fact, and as units reorganize that are not committed to specific defence they shall be dispatched to Coruscant. As for the operations on the surface we recognize your overall command at this time due to simple preponderence of troops," Leia replied.

"Then the question of coordination between our naval forces is the principle one. Grand Admiral Pellaeon is my seniormost naval officer; and holds higher rank than any of the Republic's naval officers. I would presume to have him take command of combined fleet operations."

"I would note that Admiral Ackbar, however, held a higher rank and has been in a senior position for a longer period of time; Grand Admiral Pellaeon's promotion is also the result of several interesting political matters that still have to be resolved."

"Indeed so," Vice Director Quarn broke in. "But Princess Organa-Solo, I would point out that the legitimacy of Admiral Ackbar's rank during those times in which he would be senior to Grand Admiral Pellaeon is also contestable. So the fact that Grand Admiral Pellaeon holds a higher rank, and you have no structure in place for promoting Admiral Ackbar or creating such a position, suggests by simple dictate of necessity to give the Empire the current combined commands both on Coruscant and overall naval."

"To compensate," Sule added graciously. "We are quite prepared to cede ground forces command on all other planets that we endeavour to jointly recapture from the Vong to one of your commanders as-is appropriate."

"That would be acceptable - But not so the naval situation. We still have considerable forces extant; and as Grand Admiral Pellaeon can certainly inform you, the coordination is a matter in which an overall commander may have trouble with integrating them," Leia replied, equally pleasant.

"Might I suggest a commission, then?" She continued. "Your Grand Admirals, here, and Admiral Admiral, agreeing on matters for the overall command. That would be acceptable, as we would have a say in the highest level, as would your section of the Empire, and the Imperial Remnant."

It would be her hope, then, that Sule would reject a commission - And at least from there they could further negotiate. A commission, after all, would likely lead in general to indecision and inferiority in the command structure.

"The Empire is now a unified body, Princess. You would be conceding the balance of power to two of my Grand Admirals, then." Sule answered - Interestingly, apparently not rejecting the commission out of hand.

"Perhaps. But it is a more equitable compromise than having an overall commander." She was surprised that Sule seemed willing to accept it when it would likely reduce naval efficiency, as she could see him nod at her reply. It probably didn't bode well for future cooperation, but she wasn't in a position to demand much more than that considering the state of the Republic.

"That is agreeable, then. We shall work out the details on its powers and authority after this meeting is concluded, and with our appropriate subordinates included in the discussions?"

"Certainly, Lord and Imperator."

Sule shuffled through a few padds; perhaps an idle prop, perhaps he really was reviewing something. "Political matters, then, Princess?"

Leia smiled - An expression all diplomacy, of course. "You are indeed refreshingly direct, Lord and Imperator. Though I fear the next issue might be rather more thorny, considering our current locality, and situation. Some would argue the peace between the Republic and Empire, even, no longer should apply - Were it not for the extremity of the situation."

"I would have to agree, Princess, that you are - unfortunately - entirely correct: This issue is a thorny one. I feel that considering the current state of the galaxy we need some unified government to guide the defence of civilization against the barbarity of the Yuuzhan Vong. However, no such government exists; so I think the alternative is to come up with an equitable arrangement in direct discussion between my person and what formal government remains of the New Republic."

"And do you intend to do this, Lord and Imperator? The current state of affairs is.. Confused, to say the least."

Martina spoke for her husband, then: "We shall call the Republic's Senate to convene within this building, where it always has. Using his right as Lord and Imperator and heir of the Imperial throne and dignities, my husband shall preside over the meeting of the Republic's Senate, as there is currently no President, but my Husband's dignities include those identical in powers to the position of Supreme Chancellor in the Old Republic; and thus he might convoke the Senate and preside over its meetings - Responsible, of course, to the Senators."

"I think that it is an equitable arrangement," Sule added. "I shall preside over the Senate - But its decrees in the session I convoke shall be binding over the Republic and Empire alike, even though I will be the only Imperial representative present."

Leia didn't need the force now. It was all just a game; a pretty, elegant little game. Just like Palpatine, Sule intended to have every one of his powers confirmed in solemn ceremony by a Republican government. He had the sheer temerity to think that he could make the Senate of the Restored Republic into his Imperial Senate...

And Leia Organa Solo realized that under the current circumstances he was very likely right, if he gathered them all in this shell of an edifice and presided over them with his millions of troops fighting a brutal enemy just outside, and trillions of starving and destitute citizens of the most glorious planet of the galaxy veritably worshipping his name for the Senators to view as they arrived.

She wondered now what the purpose of the meeting had been - To entrap her to public opinion, has had been done outside already, and at the same time record her consent for military cooperation, so it could not be easily withdrawn until this entire farce had played out?

If so they had succeeded masterfully, and Leia wondered why; perhaps because she had been preoccupied with her sons, perhaps because she wanted desperately to believe that with Pellaeon's influence even an Emperor on the throne of the Empire would turn away from this. But it was not to be.

And so now all she could do was disengage gracefully, and proceed to plan the best way to foil Sule's 'joint-session' of Empire and Republic - Which could only have one result, a single unified state spanning two galaxies, and that most assuredly the Galactic Empire. And so she did, managing the rest of the meeting politely and the naval cooperation talks afterwards, and then collecting her party and returning to her shuttle, the looming despair of failure and the hopelessness of impending defeat looming up over her.


The Imperial Palace,
Capitol Sector,
The Planet Coruscant.


Her mother was in a diplomatic conference; and so here Jaina wandered through the ruined Imperial Palace, once her home. Alone; her father had struck up an uneasy conversation with the Imperial officers hanging around the conference room. And so Jaina walked, unhindered by the guards, into the deepest areas of the Palace that were still intact.

She was trying to escape the range of the Ysalamari; and finally she did. The wave hit her, for she had grown unaccustomed to it, and she staggered down to her knees in pain at the sudden sense of death that permeated the air, an unseen miasma on Coruscant - The Gem of the Galaxy that was now the Black Gem, the hideous thing.

Sule had saved it from destruction, but to a Jedi it would always be a place of pure horror. In that moment, with no time for preparation, in the halls of the palace that had once been home, the full realization of that came to Jaina, rolling in to her in brutal agony, unadultered terror - The last moments of trillions annihilated in nuclear fire, and millions tortured to death. Their shades haunted this world, and by the scale of the destruction, always would.

After a fashion, it was worse than Alderaan; but different. It made her want to seek out the perpetrators. And certainly there were enough alive, that if she had the power - and she did, if she gave in to that desire brought on by the agony - she could reach out and snuff them in a moment, perhaps all of them. She could be the justice of every one of those shades...

"It's not something you get used to, is it?" a voice asked softly. "I don't even know myself how I can find my voice. A breath, friend, and remember that the dead shall get their vengeance even if you do not act."

Jaina looked up into the friendly eyes of Miat Temm, and took a breath. She abruptly then realized she had indeed not been breathing; and gasping for air, she fought to drive those fragments of the dead, and their last screams of vengeance, back from her psyche.

"I... I.." She just gasped in air, now, her thoughts clear of the oppressive weight of death that hung over Coruscant, and the shock of its sudden onslaught as she stepped out into it from the protection of the Ysalamari without warning.

"I know. Things have been done here, on the surface of this world, which strain the fabric of life. I sit out here and avoid the blanket of the Emperor's protection because I don't want to end up like you - Avoiding the reality of it long enough to get thrust back into it, unprepared. But you still look quite sane.. Jaina Solo, it is?"

A nod, as Jaina settled into a sitting position, and now managed to wonder of her strange benefactor; who appeared casually Imperial and yet, as she might again focus her senses, not to detectably bear the trace of the dark side. But then again Sith had hid it before.

Miat sat beside her on the scarred and pitted floor, burned in this section by flame, without comment - Her legs comfortably folded. "I am a friend of Pellaeon's, you might say. My name is Miat Temm." She said by way of explanation to the probe she had felt.

Jaina felt rather annoyed that she'd been so obvious; but then she also still felt like the Lusankya had impaled her brain. Which was perhaps excessively humorous a way to look at such a horror, but she didn't really know if there was any other way. Probably not.

"Oh." It was at least coherent.

"We think everything can be decided by philosophics..." Miat's eyes looked away, her voice trailed off. "And we forget that there is a philosophy to reality. To do what is right, and condemn what is wrong is all well and good - But there is also a philosophy to survival."

Jaina tried to follow the abrupt conversation; it was like Miat was continuing a conversation she had begun a long time ago. With someone else. "A philosophy of survival?" she simply asked.

The woman's eyes then abruptly bored deeply into Jaina's. Eyes no longer friendly, but rather gripped by a focus and a terrible certainty. "Ask Kyp Durron why the Force forgave him so easily - And wonder why if the Force is Life, that Life is everything, rather than just Right and Wrong, Jaina. Wonder why a Jedi lets the Force go through her to act in violence; do these things." Something passed between them in that moment; something that Jaina, who had come along as a glorified bodyguard, could vaguely feel and barely understand.

It had been fate, then. She did not understand, but she would, either to truth or deception. Their eyes stayed together for a moment longer, a moment of an eternity.

"We will meet again." Jaina said, and she felt like she had spoken the words without really saying them; and did not know if the woman in front of her was a friend or an enemy, if she would help Jaina in some purpose - Perhaps against the Vong, or to recover her brother she did not know, or to oppose the Jedi Order in some fashion for the Imperial cause - but that the meeting would indeed take place, sometime in the future.

"Foresight is a twisted thing. Beware that path even as my memories warn me of it," Miat replied, and then leapt to her feet, offering Jaina a hand. The younger woman took it, and Miat helped her up. "Regardless, keep what has been said in mind. This world has become the forge of Hell. One does not enter it nor leave it unchanged."

The words were a jumble of questions and directives, one after the other. But they stuck and reverberated. In the background of her mind, the dead seemed to loom up closer once more. Forge of Hell, Indeed! Jaina turned and fled, from Miat and from the shadows of the dread world of Coruscant.


The Imperial Palace, Capitol Sector,
Diplomatic Conference Room (Former Library),
The Planet Coruscant.


"Well, I quite understand that we have them off balance now, but did we have to do it at the cost of making me out to be a complete psychopath," Elise asked with a rather heavy - and sculpted - look on her face. They were dining here as well; accomadations in the remnants of the Imperial Palace were quite spartan of course.

"Yes," Martina replied. "Largely because it's true."

"Can I still tell her to shut up when she deserves it, Lord and Imperator?"

"I am a man without peace," Sule declared, holding a hand over his chest, then laughed. "It was elegant I think, Elise. And everyone knows you're.. Eccentric. Let them go a bit further with that; the entire purpose of that play at the beginning, anyway, was just that. To get them thinking that we're essentially cunning but erratic, or at least that I'm surrounded by political flunkies - No offense intended, Grand Admiral Pellaeon, Vice Director Quarn - And lunatics, and so the advice I'm getting is seriously constrained."

"Consider it the art of acting subterfuge in high diplomacy. Of course, now the Princess will be working against us - But we have the entire population of Coruscant as leverage, and popular opinion is most likely going to end up firmly on the side of the Galactic Empire for the first time since Palpatine dismissed the Imperial Senate.

"Essentially, in a situation like this - Everyone loves a winner - And we've proven our ability to win. I'm actually hoping Leia gets a bit too active now before we make any active effort at union with the Republic; it might serve to simply totally discredit her faction when the time comes."

"In principle I won't disagree, Lord and Imperator," Pellaeon replied. "Though I confess it wasn't impossibly hard for me to fake acting awkward in that.. Conference.. Here. To call it unusual is mild."

Sule laughed again. "Mild is an understatement. But it's all due to Elise's taste in art, of course."

His friend was glaring at him as the serving droids - From Pellaeon's fleet - Brought in the food. And unnoticed at the same time, someone else entered.

"Gilad. It is done."

Gilad Pellaeon looked up and saw Miat; and he swallowed slightly. For ever since she had gone down to the surface of Coruscant, determined once more to help - For she had been trained for infiltration - She had changed. She had seen things and done things that even the men who had fought the Vong here likely could not understand nor would want to. And other things had happened she would not speak about.

The faint air of this world that was held at bay by the banter of friends for those who could not feel the Force could never be held at bay for Miat Temm. And it had changed her. That saddened Gilad Pellaeon; but war had changed him, too, and every raw recruit who had been fed into the furnace of Coruscant had been changed in some fashion. He recognized, though, that it was quite possibly rather more fundamental in Miat's case.

"What is done?" he asked in reply, as the attention of the room focused on the sole force-sensitive of the Empire.

"The Beginning.... Of... Of what matters."

Then she turned and left again, leaving Pellaeon and Sule to look at each other.

"And what is that the beginning of?" Sule asked in a very soft voice.

"I fear I do not want to know," Pellaeon replied, as he worried for his friend.


Republican Navy Ship,
Executor-class Battlecruiser Lusankya,
Coruscant System.


"Do you really want me to hold position here, Your Highness? Or, for that matter, to continue supplying their fleet?" Wedge Antilles asked earnestly. "If that's the political situation it might be better to try and rally the fleet at one of the core worlds..."

"And fight with the Imperials?" Leia shook her head tiredly. "Definitely not; we cannot afford it, not now."

"Exactly," Han added. "For all this thing is a rotten mess and Sule and his gang a collection of real.. Ahem.. Schemers.. the fact is they're the only thing between the Vong and the most pitiful bunch of survivors you've ever seen, Wedge. I hate to say it, but we need the Imperial fleet right now, and we'll need the Imperial fleet even if we're successful in foiling Sule's plots."

"I just hope he has enough sense left to realize what trying a more direct method for control would mean for the galaxy," Leia commented softly..

"His officers certainly don't, at least at the higher levels - Pellaeon excepted. He seems to like surrounding himself in people who've paid for their intelligence in sanity; we'd better hope he trusts Pellaeon," Han concluded.

"I'm not sure," his wife countered. "The extent to which the entire thing was... Odd.. Bothers me. I worry that this entire meeting could have been intended not only to throw bad publicity on us, but to make us misjudge them - It's not like we have any experience with any of them except Pellaeon, after all, and so to an extent they can control our perceptions of them if they're careful."

"And we might double-think ourselves into inaction, too," Wedge broke in. "What we do know is that they're certainly out for supreme power, not simply saving the galaxy from the Vong. Which should not be a surprise; these guys are old school Imps who didn't see the defeats the post-Endor Empire did. The opposite, apparently."

"So we're going to have to stop them from getting a hold of what they want while convincing them to keep fighting with us against the Vong, before, during, and after that. Just another impossible mission for us - But a rather different playing field. It's nice to know we have your skills available, Your Highness." A smile, and then a serious question:

"You are holding up all right, Leia?"

"It will not get better; and I can be thankful things are not worse," Leia replied, as Han gently put an arm around her shoulders.

"You have my sympathies. But now I must bring it up, as it troubled me when I noticed it - Jaina seemed rather disturbed when she returned to the ship. Very disturbed. Did something happen to her down there?"

"The planet did," Leia said simply. "It's somewhat uncomfortable even being in orbit."

"Oh.. Oh. That bad, huh?"

"Yes, and I was protected the entire time by the Ysalamari that Sule had out for his protection; Jaina wandered out beyond them while I was in the conference. That's why she's troubled like that. One moment nothing, the next, the full force."

Wedge was silent, trying to understand something he would never feel - That aura of death of countless trillions around the site where they had perished, some in the most hideous of fashions possible.

Han looked to his wife and then to him and shook his head slightly. "I don't know. I feel lucky not to have to endure that - But it's.. It's not a very good thing to know your kids are suffering and you don't even know it's there."

Leia looked down to the planet, to where the dying still continued, and she spoke very softly as she leaned closely against him. "Believe me, Han, love. You're thankful. You're thankful." Her tone as she repeated it convinced him he was.




De Imperatoribus Galacticis will be continued in Chapter the Tenth.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

Well, if this is one chapter the book's going to kick ass.

Prologue through Chapter the Seventh are available at the ASVS fanfic archive. These are special pre-releases of the unedited versions of Chapter the Eighth, Ninth, and Tenth, since my editor (IDMR), is currently unavailable and has been for about a month.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

De Imperatoribus Galacticis

"On the Galactic Emperors"

Chapter the Tenth.

(As continued from Chapter the Ninth.)


Kuat Stardrive Yards,
The Kuat System.


Home for Vice Admiral Mystrela Estorav di Kuat was a sight of beauty - A sight that had blessedly not changed, compared to the cancerous surface of Imperial Centre. The shipyards, blasted to rubble by her uncle at the dark end of the Empire's former glory, were fully restored, and the habitat modules were the same. Ten billion souls in fact now resided here, counting some refugees.

Kuat di Kuat had ultimately failed in his purpose, except to serve that the glorious Kuat Stardrive Yards might take a second rank to those of other corporations and houses; and that the houses of Kuat might be sown with dissension in the wake of his death. But restoration had come and the firm of Kuat Drive Yards had risen to prominence again - Even if politically the New Republic had given over power to the proles on the yards, and the industrial worlds.

She had entered, thus, a nest of politics like that for which she had been schooled and for which she utterly loathed, when she had led her squadron to this world to organize its defence and secure the yards and a supply of materiale for the insatiable appetite of the Grand Fleet.

Because Mystrela Estorav di Kuat was, after all, Kuat di Kuat's closest surviving relative, now that she had bothered to return from the grave. She was younger of course, even now - At least biologically. And the metaphasic particles had perhaps retained within that soul of cold calculation a bit of youthful impetuosity.

But none could deny that the outer surface was at least well-managed; and her intelligent had brought about Bilbringi, which had been the most one-sided defeat the Yuuzhan Vong had perhaps ever suffered in their invasion of the galaxy. And so many would see her leading K.D.Y.; this carefully bred specimen of Kuati nobility returning in their time of crisis to restore the proper order.

However, the greatest evidence of her calm genius was also the clear point that it had been turned from what they wanted to another pursuit. Mystrela hated the traditions of her people and her class, and she had turned from this domestic diplomacy, and the careful pursuit of wealth and financial matters, to another pursuit - Both art and science, that of War, even in her youth.

And it was one in which she admired the eccentric and unpredictable genius of Elise, the genius that had been willing at Second Coruscant to risk the manoeuvres that had clawed them into range for a decisive swing at the Yuuzhan Vong and then brought them back to the defence; she had trusted her crews and her ships and Mystrela knew her mentor - Even if she was willing to take risks and see those under her command die - could never be called a 'bean counter'.

Which precisely what everyone in the Kuat system apparently thought she was; or some variation on the theme at any rate. It galled her in every measure, for she certainly hadn't been at Bilbringi if they'd had a modicum of sense on military affairs. However decisive that battle was it could have been decisive in the other direction - Had the Vong gotten proper intelligence, had they better coordinated their elements, or a thousand other things no doubt and most of which she'd never think of - And so it had been a chance.

Mystrela doubted the merchant princes of Kuat wanted a risk taker, an overthrower of tradition, to be their autocrat - For she would be, coming from the military in which she had now served for so long! - And direct them into ventures and cut through their disputes and offend their sensibilities. Unfortunately, a people who had seen the end of everything and then the salvation of everything rarely then saw details.

There were two factions here; one had opposed her uncle and thus opposed her virulently even though she did not desire the post. The other would desire to hand her the key to the driveyards in a heartbeat, nevermind the practical realities of her duties, nevermind that she lacked a desire for them. And of course there were also the proles who would have once welcomed Viqi Shesh in; with the realities of Coruscant, no more, but the fanatics among them were still a danger.

And so she sat in the middle of the driveyards, in these finely appointed VIP quarters of a habitation module on the vast construct, where she had a view of the Cuirass repairing her battle damage nearby - And balanced the factions in a way that she so hated to do - That the Emperor and the Fleet might receive what they needed.

Mystrela chuckled inside, the thought touching her lips as a grin; a slight expression the caught the attention of the maidservant assigned to her - She had decided to be stubborn and demand live servants and not droids, as she had gotten used to the Milky Way - through the reflection of the glass. The young woman turned her way, curious.

"I am amused, Kyline, at my own state." She said simply. And then the message bank had the gall to chime; so she continued smoothly: "And so if you would be so kind, do find out for me who that is."

"Of course, ma'am."

As Kyline left the room, Mystrela sank back into her chair and sighed, where only the stars and the small and distant visage of her ship could see. This sort of thing weared on her.

And in a moment Kyline returned, the expression on a pleasant face framed by dark hair one that was only serious - That of a studious servant of the upper classes, who knew their moods and wants well, and also what would trouble them. "It is an interstellar message, ma'am. Of... Imperial Dignities."

"I see." And indeed she did; it could mean only one thing. Mystrela rose slowly and walked to the message bank; the security measures were passed with that same weary familiarity. Weary, indeed! She would like to get down to the surface and relax. But of course it was impossible for the Grand Fleet to relax, and certainly impossible for the Army to relax, and she would not have the chance for a while either - Even if her duty now was a more complex one.

And now she feared a more permanent one at that; And then in a moment her fears were confirmed.

'Vice Admiral di Kuat, who is Mystrela Estorav di Kuat, a deputation from the factions who have the majority in the traditional power structure of Kuat have come to me; and they have requested to be placed under Imperial protection and rule and for me to resolve a dispute among the factions.

Now among the disputing parties the situation is that the previous ruler of Kuat, and administrator of the Kuat Drive Yards is Kuat di Kuat, who is of your house and who was your uncle. But as the fall of his house from power also coincided with the rise of the New Republic to power, the entire influence of the traditional structure of the houses was replaced with an assembly of the People, which of late has supported the mechinations of one Viqi Shesh, a Senator from your world who has consorted with and plotted with the enemy.

Of course because of the treason of Viqi Shesh her world is shamed, and she is wanted throughout the whole of two galaxies for her infamy. Since I have convoked the Senate, I cannot have a world without a Senator - And then these leading citizens of your world came to me and made appeals to set their world in order, and avoid the anarchy of the government that allowed the traitor Shesh to come to power.

In particular they asked that I would settle a dispute among them, that some supported the canidacy of a member of the House of Kuat who is your person, while others came forth with various grievances against your House; and in this dispute I settled in your favour, and so I hereby inform and command of you to accept all posts offered you by the assembly of the Houses of Kuat and carry them out to your utmost, and while doing so your position in the fleet is maintained in the reserve.

I also command you in particular to appoint a Senator, as the treason of Viqi Shesh precludes her from carrying out her duties in the Senate; and though these various things have been done with the idea of restraining a people who have extended their passions into the support of treason, I would be particular in my command to you as a vassal of my person - For that would be the best way to describe the arrangement of things until such time as the government can be regularized and the situation is less confused - to alleviate their burden and institute laws and certain limited assemblies so that their voice is not entirely silenced, but simply moderated to within reason.

So is the command of Sule Tienyz, Lord and Imperator of the Fleets and the Legions of the Empire, Emperor of the Two Galaxies, acclaimed Warlord of Coruscant, holder of various other titles and protector of many nations and peoples and etc.'


"By the command of the Emperor..." Mystrela trailed off softly. The addendum to this message suggested that it likely arrived before the return of the suppliants, which was almost certainly correct. Well, Mystrela was not surprised that in her weeks here she'd ended up annoying both sides like that.

"Kyline. My third cousin, Inethre. I want you to contact her in person and bring her here; I have some terms for her. Though don't tell her that. Just get her here, please." Until Sule's note had actually been seen - And she honestly had no intent of every letting someone see it at all - She at least had some bargaining room on the conditions of what lay ahead.

Bargaining. It appeared to be the future. She wondered how much trouble that would get herself into. Mystrela surprised Kyline, though, by laughing aloud. Her uncle had gotten himself into a great deal more by playing around with Kuat's battlefleet; perhaps she could as well. After all, Viqi Shesh was still out there, and the Peace Brigade might be a periphery for the Empire, but for Kuat's resources it might indeed make the perfect target.

This fate might not entirely be that of a bean counter, after all.


CINCMW Flagship,
Torpedo Sphere Ulaumai,
Martian Orbit, Sol System.


High Admiral Rano Inaras felt the pleasure of the forbidden moment even now, yet, in Nurai's arms. He could relax... Supreme in a private little empire that was unlikely to be troubled for a long time to come, now, fortunately.

He had supported the winning side; and for no surprise. After all, he had thought that they could push the Vong back. And Elise had. Elise had, of course, and he had stayed back in a barbarian galaxy with the sop of his former commander's rank to appease him. Grand Admiral Elise Kalar-Leben won the accolades; shared perhaps, but she still did.

And it was really for a mechanistic plodding that even his worst accuser's slander admitted he could accomplish. She hadn't beaten the Vong; Pellaeon had. And Inaras could have been the anvil as easily as Elise could have been. Well, he hadn't been, and he commanded a fleet of glorified siege platforms and pickets that was massively understrength at the moment.

The envy probably wasn't healthy, and the illicit affair certainly wasn't, but he was the command of the entire navy in the Milky Way now, and said illicit affair was the main thing keeping the envy in check - And thus the warm body of Nurai Darvan snuggling against him in his suite's bed on the Ulaumai was considered a reasonable vice.

It wasn't his will, after all, that he had been promoted to command the entire Milky Way - including the quadrant she was assigned to - including just his own. So the relationship had been perfectly acceptable when it had started, which was the comfortable rationalization in his head. Of course having Nurai reassigned to the Ulaumai after he had been promoted certainly wasn't keeping in that spirit; but c'est la vie.

"Love, you're thinking about something, aren't you? And a deep matter, at that," Nurai asked softly, murmured with her eyes opening slightly; but she only shifted closer. She was genuinely in love, or at any rate that was how Rano fancied the relationship. His own emotions were ambiguous. It was certainly a sophisticated one; too sophisticated for simple lust and certainly enough to ignore the potential and rather vulgar double ententre of that comment.

"About us. And about things in the home galaxy. And about everything, really, love. There is too much on my mind these trying days - Which only you can alleviate." Home galaxy, always. Even if Nurai had been born here. Everything that counted had seen it's foundation back at Imperial Centre in Inaras' opinion, ruined Imperial Centre, Elise's obsessesion with Terran culture notwithstanding.

Nurai laughed softly in reply to what he voiced. "Perhaps so, and I will not doubt your concerns are worse than minding a single squadron of starfighters. But only if you will speak of something can I perhaps ease the burden, Rano."

"A fair request," Rano replied, smiling and tossing some of his lover's honeyed-blonde hair across her face playfully. She mock-growled at it and leaped up to pin him down, straddling his chest. "Tell, I said!"

First he had to get himself to stop laughing. "Alright; surrender freely given. Though that sort of oppress..."

"Do. Not. Say. It."

"As the mistress commands." Rano was smirking faintly. "Are you sure you want to hear about my problems now?"

Nurai let her face turn serious again and nodded. "Yes, Rano love, I do. You've always let things consume you just a bit too much. Air them out where you can; even now there's not much else of a safe place."

"Well, then, it is primarily about how things are being handled in the Home Galaxy - That is what worries me the most, with the news from Coruscant. I think Sule is being too confrontationalist with the Republic - And to that end, instead of concentrating just on the Vong, he's risking not just Home, but our territo.."

For the second time Rano was cut off but not by Nurai's voice. Instead it was by the gentle chime of the intercom interforming him of a message directly from the Torpedo Sphere's Flagbridge. Nurai had already slid off of him as he keyed on the message - Which was, of course, audio only, for a similiar if naturally not precisely identical reason.

"Rano here.." a mental scan through the duty roster.. "Commander Wessiv, what's happening?" Nobody else would be comming him from the flagbridge - effectively fleet operations for the whole Milky Way, several Torpedo Spheres had been modified for that purpose - in the middle of the ship's 'night cycle' except for the watch officer.

"High Admiral, our outer sensor platforms have detected subspace distortions consistant with a considerable use of transwarp conduits. The platforms in the region focused in after that and confirmed one thousand, I repeat, one thousand even warp signatures consistant with Borg Cube-level vessels, and around a hundred of their scout-type vessels."

That was offered up with as the brutal and cold recitation of facts it was. The Borg; they had lost tens of thousands of ships to the Galactic Empire in more than two decades of on-and-off fighting, but pacification or destruction of them had failed miserably, and they continued to try and adapt and send efforts against the Empire again. Generally with failures that were just as miserable as results.

"Did we get a track on their destination before they left the range of the perimeter sensors, Commander?" Rano's voice was flat, now.

"Yes, Admiral. They're going after the Briar Patch."

A grunt. It had to be that. The Borg had attacked precisely six Imperial targets in the history of the Galactic Empire's invasion of the Milky Way - Well, seven, if you count each end of the Bajoran wormhole as a seperate target - And the one they had attacked the fewest times and had always been assigned the least probability, for its deep location in Imperial space, was the Briar Patch.

Most people figured the Borg wanted the metaphysic particles to enhance drone efficiency or something, though there were always a few conspiracy theorists who predicted it was a time travel plot. Either way, it was something that had to be protected as much as any of the other Borg-threatened installations, anomalies and planets - Moreso, if the latter is true, Inaras thought with a dark humour - and it was, but his deployment plan by necessity would take more time in concentrating ships at the Briar Patch.

"Ten minutes, Commander, and I'll be up there. Wake everyone on my staff and get them up to the flagbridge, please. Inform Captain Fenilev of the situation immediately as well."

"Understood, Admiral. We're on it." The captain signed off promptly to attend to his instructions; the Borg threat was a constant one that had worn its way into the psyche of the Imperial Milky Way and speed had counted for the protection of civilians almost entirely from casualties during those invasions. Almost wasn't good enough, though, it never was - They had to get better, so even a single tramp freighter wasn't missed, even if it was impossible - But now Rano Inaras had to do that with a seriously reduced force.

He looked to Nurai and saw she had already dressed. A nod was exchanged; and a look in their eyes. "I know the way, love," she said softly. "I rather suspect we won't be seeing action for a while yet, but..."

"Quite right. Until later.. Love." He leaned over and kissed her, and as she left his Admiral's suite, began to dress as well.


CINCMW Flagship,
Torpedo Sphere Ulaumai,
The Briar Patch.


Nurai Darvan trotted out into the hanger where her squadron - one among five on the heavily modified Torpedo Sphere - was now ready being readied for launch, the Missile Boats - older model single seaters -bearing an armament of all-proton torps against the Cubes. The preflight briefing was finished; the events of some six odd hours ago were a fading memory. Now it was time to fight an enemy just as inhuman and monstrous as the Yuuzhan Vong, and one she was quite familiar with.

"Nurai!"

As she climbed up into her starfighter, she paused and looked to the voice shouted just below her; it was Veli Kuisa, her best friend on the Ulaumai and only confidante - unless you counted her lover as both. Veli knew about her High Admiral Inaras. But then Nurai trusted her completely; Veli, after all, supervised the maintainence techs for the entire squadron.

The other woman reached up, smiling, and clasped her hand tightly for a brief moment. "Forgot to tell me you'd be back, Nurai! Good luck out there!"

"Thanks, Veli - And I'll be back!" A laugh, and she was off and into the cockpit.

On the flagbridge - fleet ops - of the Ulaumai, the worry was banished from High Admiral Inaras' mind, as it been in the past. Other people had that same worry and held it openly, who were fortunate or unfortunate enough to have a spouse on another ship or the like in an engagement. His was simply secret, after all, and otherwise the same.

He had a battle to run, but a nagging voice reminded him irritatingly that this was his triumph to be had; minimize casualties and don't just protect the metaphasic particle harvesting equipment, but annihilate the Borg force totally, and he'd see how the Lord and Imperator's estimation of himself was raised. And against the Borg hive mind such lofty goals were not impossible by far!

Even with his limited resources there were things that could be done; and the Torpedo Spheres had certain advantages in fighting the Borg, which is why they had been retained and modified just for that purpose. Nobody needed speed or manoeuvrability for such an engagement, after all. And so he had the following forces on hand, and he intended to use them like so:

The Torpedo Spheres of the Galactic Empire's Milky Way possessions had been modified with the addition of a twin very-heavy Ion Cannon turret at the dorsal and ventral poles, and ninety-six quad anti-starfighter laser cannon. Furthermore the space for the vehicles and dropships and landing barges was removed; that was where the fighter bays went. The troop bunks however were retained, giving the Torpedo Spheres large onboard Stormtrooper complements to deal with Borg infiltration.

Finally the gravshock bombard was removed and replaced by additional shield generators, and the power core was replaced by a new and higher-rate model. That completed the modifications - Quite extensive refits that involved gutting the vessels but noticably cheaper than building new ships, and much better than wasting precious yard space; even ripping out their reactor cores could be done almost anywhere with some imperial repair equipment.

These had turned the siege platforms into very slow warships, with the majority of their main armament fixed forwards - Which was more than sufficient for killing the Borg. And High Admiral Inaras had one hundred and ninety-three of them at the Briar Patch today. Supporting the Torpedo Spheres were eighty-six Dreadnought-class Heavy Cruisers and one hundred and three escort carriers, along with sixty-two Carrack-class Light Cruisers, one hundred and thirty-seven Nebulon-B type Frigates, and two hundred and twenty-nine assorted corvettes, along with eighty-three assorted old Milky Way vessels in supporting roles.

It was not the best of odds, actually - The Borg had reached the limit of their adaption in the series of conflicts, and now it was a matter of sheer firepower, and the Empire did win that - But those were one thousand of the Borg's largest cubes supported by at least a hundred scouts out there; and a Torpedo Sphere was one of the few things in the universe that manoeuvred as poorly as a Borg Cube.

But High Admiral Inaras was defending the Briar Patch; and that meant of course that the Borg had to come to him through it. And that give him every single advantage he needed. The area was precisely charted by the Galactic Empire, and he knew roughly the capabilities of the Borg sensors. Likewise the Borg had attacked the Briar Patch before, and gone straight down the main safe shipping lane through it when they had.

And so at one point of particularly dense gas clouds within the Briar Patch, it had been simple enough - They had laid a minefield, a box with one end open and the far side the thickest, and behind that Inaras had positioned all of the lighter ships and thirty-three of the Torpedo Spheres, supported by all the fighters; if the Borg calculated a discrepency in numbers the highest probability would be that they were from the planetary installations after all, and some in fact were.

On either flank of the formation and to either side of the main shipping channel, however, were positioned eighty torpedo spheres, hovering respectively in two very dense gas clouds that utterly obscured them as long as they maintained their position. They were kept in touch with the main fleet by a relay chain of cloaked MW designed vessels, Defiants, Vor'chas and D'Deridexes, while the remainder not needed for the laser-signaller relay lines reinforced the central squadron - along with the escort carriers, albeit both to the aft - to give the appearence of desperation, if the Borg could calculate that.

Inaras then just dismissed the noncombatant minelayers maintained at the Briar Patch - it was a perfect place for mining - and told their captains to flee. And then he waited for the Borg to show up; because, inevitably, they would... And they did, exactly where he had expected them. After all, this one hadn't been tried before.

But as simple as the planning had been, that in truth was the case about many military strategies, and tactics. There was still the execution; and as the relay reported the central force's contact with the first Borg cubes, scouts, Inaras knew that for all the presumption that had gone into one of these combats with the Borg it was most assuredly not over before it had commenced.

"Signals from the Ralanys, sir. Admiral Tular reports that the Borg scouts are now approaching the minefield. Accurate sensor data gives a total number of one hundred and ten; Borg Cube force still coming into effective sensor range."

"Inform him that he may engage with energy fire only, as soon as he has the range, Commander."

"At once, sir."

Inaras looked to the massive holoplot as Commander Fasir turned away; one that was designed to aide in controlling an entire galaxy's forces; right now however it was set to let him control a battle, and also right now all it showed was the misty and concealing clouds, and the torpedo spheres in his own force close enough to be revealed.

The Borg scouts approached the minefield, scanning it and the ships beyond, and Admiral Tular obeyed his orders. From each of thirty-three torpedo spheres ten of the heaviest turbolasers in the Imperial inventory opened up; and likewise from the Dreadnoughts, their lighter batteries adding into the murderous fire, all set to flak bursts that detonated in the clouds and sent the raw, uncontained energy against the defences of the Borg ships while it excited the mists around them into a tumult.

The first cannonade lasted two minutes and fourty-two seconds. At the end of it sixty-three Borg scouts had been destroyed and in return they had destroyed less than a quarter of a percent of the minefield. But the Collective did not care; the Collective could not care. The losses were totally irrelevant, even for this attack - none of their major Cubes dedicated for this effort had been lost, and they now had precise information about the Imperial defences for the Briar Patch, which could be used to defeat those defences. That was relevant.

Imperial concentrations were weaker in this area than predicted, but fleet deployments for the extragalactic invaders suggested a very large-scale recall of their forces to their home galaxy. The Borg Collective did not have sufficient information to predict probabilities on the reasons for that, but it could conclude that there was now an excellent chance to overwhelm the Empire's pocket in the Milky Way and assimilate their technological distinctiveness with a relevant chance from shipyards and other major infrastructure facilities of then having the base to replicate it.

However, due to unacceptably heavy attrition even for the Collective in direct assaults against the major Imperial centers in the Milky Way, the Collective had first chosen to test the Empire's exact weakness or strength by launching an assault on a particular region of temporal interest and biological usefulness to the Collective. If the assault failed, the forces committed to it would be acceptable losses; if it succeeded, it would be an indicator that a general assault and assimilation effort against the Galactic Empire's Milky Way holdings would be of acceptable risk.

Either way, the force committed to attack what other beings called the Briar Patch was, of course, fully expendable. And indeed the loss of sixty-three scouts from it had been virtually expected; they had fulfilled their purpose, and now the main force deployed according to the information they had gained.

One thousand Borg Cubes each launched a single sphere, and combined with the scouts this would provide a light mobile force. It was directed to swing to the right and outflank the defending force, cutting through the minefield there. The pattern was precise and geometric and of course the enemy would know they were coming; but the Collective determined that dividing the enemy's defending force would maximize the efficiency of the assimilation effort, and so however awkwardly, the Borg actually did attempt a flanking manoeuvre.

The word got to High Admiral Inaras soon enough.

"This is interesting," He commented in the same tone. "We're going to have to up our estimation of them - In general. Fortunately not in the Briar Patch however. Tell Admiral Tular to engage at his discretion; we'll deal with the flanking force."

The Borg Cubes advanced straight ahead towards the minefield, encountering heavy turbolaser fire concentrated against the lead elements. Quickly however the Cubes began to draw up along the minefield and with wide-beam energy weaponry started to clear away the mines, vapourizing them in a continuing series of heavy detonations.

As they did, however, the torpedo spheres engaged; and through both the lanes in the minefield the Borg were creating, and ones prepared for the occasion, the starfighters accelerated in to engage. Thirty-three ships; each firing five hundred proton torpedoes of the latest type. Sixteen thousand five hundred torpedoes were launched in a series of salvoes, one every four seconds.

The Borg analyzed the threat; they shifted their wide-beam weaponry to anti-missile defence and began clearing the minefield with pulse disruptors, a much slower process. And the torpedoes and turbolasers were taking a toll - Several Borg Cubes had already been destroyed outright in the lead, and they could not yet engage the defending force, not until they had cleared the minefield.

But those losses were acceptable. They were, after all, clearing the minefield; and once it was done there were still nearly a thousand Borg Cubes left. The collective calculated the predicted losses, noted the enemy ignoring the flanking efforts, and found the predicted margin for victory to be, indeed, satisfactory.

However, the flanking force, which was now along the minefield, had discovered something unusual about the surrounding stellar gasses to the minefield on the right flank as it approached, scanning. Its local decision-making nodes requested instruction from the central process of the Collective directing the operation.

"Command-detonate the 'field," High Admiral Inaras ordered, glancing one last time at the plot where the range between the flanking force and the minefield was displayed, based on data from the cloaked relay ships closest to it.

"Command detonating the minefield, sir."

"Fleet sensors active on mark!"

"Fleet sensors active on mark, sir."

The minefield on the Imperial fleet's left flank blew up; the one on the right flank followed seven seconds later. Both detonated massive quantities of the unusual and rare gasses that were found in the Briar Patch along with their explosive yields. The Borg scouts and spheres on their right flank simply vanished into the massive, blinding white detonation that rippled through millions of kilometers of space, and did not appear out of it.

"Mark."

The active targeting sensors for eighty torpedo sensors illuminated the Borg Cubes. Moments later, the targeting sensors for another eighty from the opposite direction did likewise.

"All ships report torpedo solutions good, sir."

"The fleet shall engage with missiles, then. Energy fire at division commander's discretion."

Out of the malaestrom of receeding energy rushed fourty-thousand proton torpedoes from each direction, homing in on the Borg fleet; and the streaks of heavy tubolaser and ion cannon fire followed. They certainly did not lack targets.

Following orders, two torpedo spheres concentrated fire each on a single Borg Cube. This of course left many, many of the Borg Cubes unengaged; but that was inevitable and indeed preferable. The goal was to overwhelm this ships with massed volleys, and as the fat streaks of green and reddish-purple of the turbolasers and ion cannons streaked out as fast as the guns could fire, the torpedo tubes began steadily flushing a shot every four seconds, each salvo five hundred torpedoes, every Cube targeted being sent a thousand torpedoes within that span.

The blocking force in the centre continued fired with turbolasers, keeping up the maximum rate on the cannons as those thirty-three torpedo spheres maintained their own salvoes; and so from three sides the Borg fleet was oppressed by an awesome fire, and now in its midst raced the hordes of fighters of the Imperial Starfleet, salvoing torpedoes and strafing with their light guns against the great and lightly protected bulk of the Cubes.

The execution wrought upon the Borg fleet was swift and decisive from that surprise assault; before an effective reaction by the Borg could be made, trapped as they were in that corridor of fire, no less than a grand total of ninety-three cubes had been destroyed altogether, along with all the scouts and spheres. That was the tally after only two minutes of firing by the torpedo spheres on either flank. The Imperial capital ships had not yet among them been touched.

However, the Collective was already reacting; and mere moments after that mark had been past it sent directly forward into the minefield ten cubes. Sacrificial victims, they collided with the mines, compiling damage from both their detonations and the massed close-range fire of the blocking force, until one after another they had all been destroyed: But they fulfilled their purpose, they cleared a sufficient gap in the minefield with their weaponry and their passage, and so their loss was... Irrelevant.

One hundred and ninety-seven Cubes were then dispatched through the corridor cleared by that effort to engage closely the blocking force; while against either of the forces of torpedo spheres the Collective methodically assigned three hundred ships that were already moving to engage their assigned targets; with a reserve of one hundred ships being held back in their current position, and also to, or so the Collective desired, keep the fighters engaging and attriting them instead of the other forces.

"Detail the fighters to fall back on the blocking force - They're to aide them with those advancing cubes, and then together advance on the Borg reserve. The wings can fall back slowly and keep the Borg at range and under torpedo fire for as long as possible," Rano ordered as the plot developed.

"Understood, Admiral. Though we only have so much clearance behind us before we'll regions - And the same goes for the right wing - That we'll suffer targeting sensor degregation even on active."

"Then at that point we'll have to engage the Borg at close range."

"Aye aye, sir."

The torpedo spheres elegantly fell back as ordered; drifting through the mists, firing and firing as the Borg tried to close with them, close in the waves of death that battered them. With each passing minute, fewer Borg cubes advanced towards the respective walls of torpedo spheres. But they were firing back now; their shield draining weaponry focusing on every ship it could, while their destructive weaponry systematically concentrated on as few vessels as possible, trying to destroy some of their tormentors or land assimilation parties.

In the centre the Borg had gotten their desired melee; but with the fighters also involved it was hardly going their way. They did not have the weaponry to split between the masses of small, agile craft and the torpedo spheres, dreadnoughts, and lighter warships that engaged them at point-blank, and at this range the huge ion cannons of the torpedo spheres in the center did particularly good work against the vulnerable Borg electronics systems.

Among the masses of combatants locked in a struggle deadly and desperate to one side, impersonal and uncaring to another, however, a single fighter led a squadron of old-type missile boats against the Borg. In the heat of the engagement, it would not be initially noticed when it lost power, skimming along the surface of a Cube; and before anything could be done, or even a scream uttered by its pilot, the inevitable and fatal collision occured.

Veli Kuisa had done her work perfectly. It was not an undiscoverable crime; but the essential evidence destroyed in battle, and if all went well then, in a while, nobody would have the motivation to discover it, anyway.

Steadily the number of Cubes attacking the centre force was eroded by the efforts of the fighters and the heavy ships; the murderous fire tore into the huge vessels, the torpedoes exploited the holes within them to rip deep into their structure, and the light weaponry prevented them from regenerating until massed salvoes reduced them to rubble.

The Imperial forces took losses; ships boarded and destroyed by the Imperial torpedo spheres to prevent their assimilation, or ships destroyed outright, and the losses among the fighters were unpleasantly high. But the Cube force in the centre was decisively ground up, the fight a brutal and short affair between one side that was incapable of mercy, and another that knew it was a luxury that could not exist.

On either flank the Borg had finally come into close quarters as the Imperial walls came to a halt, the spheres drawn up against the deeper gas clouds where their sensors could not function, their enemies attrited by the steady pursuit, and well out of range of any effective reinforcement from the remaining unengaged Borg Cubes.

Inaras had lost three Torpedo Spheres - Two boarded and overwhelmed, then destroyed by his own forces, and one destroyed outright - While the right wing had lost four. The Borg, though, had suffered in excess of 60% losses; Inaras was only directly facing 114 Cubes. But the shields of much of his force were badly depleted; and he knew what the Borg might now do.

"Instruct the Force to go to emergency-rapid cycle on the torpedo tubes, and signal Admiral Tular to do the same," he ordered.

The firing cycle increased to a full salvo every two seconds instead of four; a rate that could not be sustained for very long, and would rapidly deplete the magazines besides. But those Borg Cubes weren't slowing down.

A moment later: "Admiral, our analysis indicates the Borg are probably going to..."

"Exactly."

Then: "Order all ships to be prepared for suicide-ramming attempts by Borg Cubes; evasive manoeuvres may be undertaken at all captains' descretion."

The Cubes raced in, the salvoes pelting them, 15,000 torpedoes from each sphere every minute now. But the torpedo spheres didn't have a minute. Well, Nurai my love, I certainly hope you are doing better out there than I am here, Rano thought idly and tensely as he watched the massive image of a cube swell towards his flagship on the plot. But to his quiet and internal relief the image was removed; the cube destroyed by the rapid-fire salvos and hammering turbolasers, electronics disrupted into vulnerability by the ion cannon fire.

So we shall yet see each other again, he thought with inward relief still extant; for there was nothing to instill nervousness in even a veteran of the most intense naval combats as to observe a spacecraft far larger than your own closing at high velocity to you on a ramming course and to within a few thousand klicks.

And all around the scene was repeated, as the Borg Cubes attempted to close and were blown apart. Or connected with their targets in a sickening display of energy - Something that happened several times, enough to remind Inaras that his fleet was suffering as the Borg methodically executed their ruthless and simple form of attack. Sometimes even a few of the torpedo spheres evaded; the affair looking like two beached whales rolling about, but sometimes that was all it took in space, where an inch might become a thousand miles.

Finally, finally, the lunge of the Borg was over. Eight Torpedo Spheres destroyed each from it in both his and Admiral Tular's forces. And the attacking Borg forces had been entirely wiped out. Well; the Borg had been less successful than they might have liked, but the loss of even that number - a total of twenty-six torpedo spheres - of the remaining heavy ships in the Milky Way was worrying. And now the Borg would use the tactic again. And refine it.

The remaining hundred Borg cubes of the attacking force simply fled; the Collective determined that committing them would now be a waste of resources, even to a suicide attack, without properly studying the effects and methods of the one it had decided to attack here. In the rubble were nine hundred Borg Cubes, one thousand Borg Spheres, and one hundred and ten Borg Scouts. Inaras had defeated them for the cost of little more than eighty ships altogether; but deeper seeds were sown on that day.

It wasn't until hours, hours later that he found out what truly mattered about the battle, though. He hadn't thought much about Nurai not contacting him after she got back to the ship. The Ulaumai's fighter compliment had returned thin; but of course High Admiral Rano Inaras had never thought of the one possibility that turned out to be the truth. He just assumed he was doing what she was doing - Reading the casualty lists.

Then he saw her name on them. And it wasn't a while until he believed it.


CINCMW Flagship,
Torpedo Sphere Ulaumai,
Martian Orbit, Sol System.


Well, he had his victory. More costly than he would have liked, but then the Borg had used tactics he had never expected; and he had still fought them off in what could have been a much more bloody affair. But it was hollow. It was all hollow, and he felt a rage for that; a diffused thing, without focus or substance, but a rage. There wasn't even a body to bury! And, of course, it would be something he could never share. With anyone, anyone at all. Not now; no scandal over the dead.

Which is when he remembered Nurai's closest friend on the Ulaumai, Veli Kuisa. She was only in support; but she was a warrant officer and women tended to talk about their relationships to each other; or at least that's what everyone said. Rano wondered if Nurai might have confided in her about her relationship with him; and if so if she'd hear him out. It was better than stewing to death.

And that's why he found himself down in the fighter bays, on the third watch, the night watch - When he knew Veli had the watch, trying to inconspiciously look for her and probably doing a very bad job. But it was his fleet; and he should bloody well be able to sneak around it if he wanted to.

"High Admiral, sir! Is there anything I can do for you?"

Rano whirled around, stunned by the voice directly behind him. Polite, soft, feminine sounding; and altogether appealing. From a very sneaky person at that, he realized, slightly annoyed. And that person was also Veli Kuisa, who had found him.

"Well, yes, actually..." He replied, managing to avoid stuttering or coughing out of the surprise he still felt at just having her show up there. "Chief Warrant Officer Kuisa, if I might inquire - You knew Commander Darvan?"

Softly: "Nurai? Yes, I did.. We were close friends, High Admiral. Is there anything I can help you about in regard to her? Anything at all, sir?"

"I knew her as well - Through her parents actually.." Inaras began cautiously. "It was such a pity, her death, and I just thought that considering you were closest friend onboard you might want to talk about her. Maybe not strictly under the spirit of regulations for an Admiral to be fraternizing like this with a Warrant Officer, but..."

Veli smiled faintly. "And my duty shift does end in three more minutes. Fair enough, Admiral, and thank you. I think it would help me, really - So thank you again. What happened was so depressing, indeed.. I do not make friends well and to lose her was a burden, if I may say so......"

He confessed the truth to her - and she admitted her foreknowledge, to his relief - before the end of their conversation. The light hug could have been mistaken for a gesture between friends - And, at the moment, it was. But Veli Kuisa had been very well trained in her job, and she knew exactly what sort of man Rano Inaras was.

He would also be her's by the time her handlers needed anything from him; he was baited, hook, line and sinker as the Terrans would say. A pity about Nurai, but then, that was all part of the game, and Veli prided herself on first being a player.


Tsavong Lah's Flagship,
Battleship-analogue Red Talon,
Corellian Sector.


The Yuuzhan Vong had been defeated and disgraced; and Tsavong Lah had been responsible for it. Their plans to turn the capital of the infidels into a bloody and brilliant pyre to celebrate the destruction of their horrific and blasphemous civilization had been undone; and Tsavong Lah had been responsibile for it. He had been defeated in battle by the Infidel.

The Gods had willed it, however. They had used one of the Jeedai as their arbiters, and the conquest that had once been pathetically easy, the stripping of the rotten fruit of the infidel's civilization from the dying tree of this galaxy, had been made immeasurably harder. But it would be done. And Tsavong Lah retained his command; his steadfastness in the retreat had assured that, silencing the opposition ruthlessly, though his position now hung by a thread.

But a thread was all he needed; thick enough to strangle those who would see him gone, and the infidel alike. He would avenge his son and defeat the blasphemers of the Gods simultaneously - And he would eliminate the Jeedai most especially, those who had been the principle author of his defeat and the death of so many Vong warriors. The Gods had indicated their desire for the destruction of the Jeedai, surely and most evidently, in their use so blatantly in such a defeat as Second Coruscant, to place the Imperial relief force so perfectly alongside them.

Now, at conquered Talfaglio the Vong fleet regrouped, gathering in the detachments it had sent out into the other areas of the Core, concentrating the full available strength of the Yuuzhan Vong within the Corellian Sector to thrust forward once more. The contest for the Core would be decided now at Coruscant and only at Coruscant, and Tsavong Lah would muster the full strength of his people and put it into that decision.

At the same time, he would use other methods, subtle and direct alike, to insure that the Jeedai did not threaten him as he battled for Coruscant. Those efforts had already been put into motion; and their success or failure was now the skill of those directing and executing them and overall the will of the Divine. And so Tsavong Lah mustered and supplied his fleet and prepared it, studying the possibilities and the options he would have the next time a Yuuzhan Vong warship flickered into reality within the heliopause of Coruscant. It was only a matter of time, after all, the Gods willing. And they would be - For this was their divine mandate to the Yuuzhan Vong; To conquer, and to winnow the weak from the strong, to take from infidels and blasphemers what their own needs dictated. It had been the history of their people, and it would not change now.




De Imperatoribus Galacticis will be continued in Chapter the Eleventh.

[phongn]

Interesting.

The combat scenes are, as usual, quite good, but I'm far more interested in the interactions between the Empire and the New Republic.

Seeing as the stabilization of the Republic's government didn't occur until some months later in the EU timeline (with some not-so-subtle manipulation of politicians) this will prove most interesting. Also, Admiral Ackbar is not in the chain of command at the moment. He is retired and doesn't reactivate his commission in Destiny's Way (which essentially allows him to devise Cunning Plans(tm) without the strain being head of the NRDF would create).

It'd be interesting seeing him get the treatments from the Briar Patch (along with Winter, who appears to be his confident and aide) and what he could do for the war.

[Ted]

Interesting.

The combat scenes are, as usual, quite good, but I'm far more interested in the interactions between the Empire and the New Republic.

Seeing as the stabilization of the Republic's government didn't occur until some months later in the EU timeline (with some not-so-subtle manipulation of politicians) this will prove most interesting. Also, Admiral Ackbar is not in the chain of command at the moment. He is retired and doesn't reactivate his commission in Destiny's Way (which essentially allows him to devise Cunning Plans(tm) without the strain being head of the NRDF would create).

It'd be interesting seeing him get the treatments from the Briar Patch (along with Winter, who appears to be his confident and aide) and what he could do for the war.

Very true, that, and would be interesting.

I would really like to know whats going to happen in the MW, such as wether they will put in a new Emperor, or if the Borg Will Learn Tactics (tm).

[Setzer]

Incredible. You have a god-given gift for writing dialogue. I felt like I was actually listening to people talk.

[Sea Skimmer]

Think we all know what's going to win best ground combat and highest body count this year. Say, any chance the Empire will replace its tens of millions of lost troops with a billion or so YVH's?

Great work!

[The Duchess of Zeon]

Interesting.

The combat scenes are, as usual, quite good, but I'm far more interested in the interactions between the Empire and the New Republic.

Seeing as the stabilization of the Republic's government didn't occur until some months later in the EU timeline (with some not-so-subtle manipulation of politicians) this will prove most interesting. Also, Admiral Ackbar is not in the chain of command at the moment. He is retired and doesn't reactivate his commission in Destiny's Way (which essentially allows him to devise Cunning Plans(tm) without the strain being head of the NRDF would create).

It'd be interesting seeing him get the treatments from the Briar Patch (along with Winter, who appears to be his confident and aide) and what he could do for the war.

Remember that Star by Star is my weak point, because neither of us have the book - And I was led to understand that Admiral Ackbar commanded at least part of the Republican navy at First Coruscant. I need to buy that book, it's a bad neglect of mine, but for the most part I have done without it, so I didn't want to waste money on it, especially with that suicide ship tripe on it (considering its release date the book was heavily soured to me)..

Thank you all for the comments.

[Sea Skimmer]

Interesting.

The combat scenes are, as usual, quite good, but I'm far more interested in the interactions between the Empire and the New Republic.

Seeing as the stabilization of the Republic's government didn't occur until some months later in the EU timeline (with some not-so-subtle manipulation of politicians) this will prove most interesting. Also, Admiral Ackbar is not in the chain of command at the moment. He is retired and doesn't reactivate his commission in Destiny's Way (which essentially allows him to devise Cunning Plans(tm) without the strain being head of the NRDF would create).

It'd be interesting seeing him get the treatments from the Briar Patch (along with Winter, who appears to be his confident and aide) and what he could do for the war.

Remember that Star by Star is my weak point, because neither of us have the book - And I was led to understand that Admiral Ackbar commanded at least part of the Republican navy at First Coruscant. I need to buy that book, it's a bad neglect of mine, but for the most part I have done without it, so I didn't want to waste money on it, especially with that suicide ship tripe on it (considering its release date the book was heavily soured to me)..

Thank you all for the comments.

Fleet group one was led by Traest Kre'fey
Fleet group two was led by Bel Ibli's
Fleet group three was led by Wedge Antilles
Admiral Sovv was in overall command

Groups one and two engage from the front and group three attacked from the rear. Bel Ibli's was relived of command when he began firing through the Vong refuge screen but the order was ignored by most everyone with fleet group one joining the attack piece by piece.


At one point during the running battle through the system it was mentioned that Ackbar was enroot with a Mon Calamari fleet, but this was indicated to be a rumor, and no Calamari fleet or the Admiral was mentioned to arrive, though unnamed New Republic reinforcements did come.

[phongn]

Interesting.

The combat scenes are, as usual, quite good, but I'm far more interested in the interactions between the Empire and the New Republic.

Seeing as the stabilization of the Republic's government didn't occur until some months later in the EU timeline (with some not-so-subtle manipulation of politicians) this will prove most interesting. Also, Admiral Ackbar is not in the chain of command at the moment. He is retired and doesn't reactivate his commission in Destiny's Way (which essentially allows him to devise Cunning Plans(tm) without the strain being head of the NRDF would create).

It'd be interesting seeing him get the treatments from the Briar Patch (along with Winter, who appears to be his confident and aide) and what he could do for the war.

Remember that Star by Star is my weak point, because neither of us have the book - And I was led to understand that Admiral Ackbar commanded at least part of the Republican navy at First Coruscant. I need to buy that book, it's a bad neglect of mine, but for the most part I have done without it, so I didn't want to waste money on it, especially with that suicide ship tripe on it (considering its release date the book was heavily soured to me)..

As Sea Skimmer noted, no, Ackbar did not lead a fleet to sally forth from Mon Calamari. He was sacked by Borsk Fey'lya's administration. In Destiny's Way, he notes that he wasn't so good in the political arena: his long partnership with Mon Mothma "spoiled him" - they complemented each other so well that he never really had to deal with idiot politicians.

At the end of Destiny's Way, it appeared that the Republic was going to restructure into a Federal Republic (FGR/GFR) to try and curb some of the excesses of the Senate.

The Republic, at this point, has two operational SSDs, Lusankya and Guardian. The former is the place where political undesirables and incompetents were sent to (though the captain isn't too bad and means well) and the latter seems to be a genuine fleet command ship. The fleet yards at Corellia, Kuat and Mon Calamari will take some time to finish spooling up, at which point the freshly-trained NRDF troops will enter their shiny new ships.

Bel Iblis is currently massing his own fleet and ignoring NR High Command and didn't come out to play until Ackbar's trap was set in DW.

It looks like Jacen will not get the skills he learned from Vergere or his 'Vongsense.' I don't know if Jaina has her YV warship yet.

The bioweapons project Alpha Red is in development. It will reach completion in a few months, but will probably not be used.

Gah, the point-of-divergence is making my head spin now as I try to reconcile the DIG and EU timelines.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

I just wanted to announce myself that I'm going over all the chapters of DIG personally with a fine-toothed comb, and when I'm done, they'll be (the revised versions) posted here, and at other relevant locations.

[Sea Skimmer]

I just wanted to announce myself that I'm going over all the chapters of DIG personally with a fine-toothed comb, and when I'm done, they'll be (the revised versions) posted here, and at other relevant locations.

Something else. I've now reread Star By Star and checked the maps included in it and Destiny's Way. Corellia did not fall to the Vong.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

I just wanted to announce myself that I'm going over all the chapters of DIG personally with a fine-toothed comb, and when I'm done, they'll be (the revised versions) posted here, and at other relevant locations.

Something else. I've now reread Star By Star and checked the maps included in it and Destiny's Way. Corellia did not fall to the Vong.

Yes, I knew that, and I didn't say it did in these chapters, which was really only where it was relevant. Hrmm. Fog of War and all that.