De Imperatoribus Galacticis: Chapter the Fifteenth.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

De Imperatoribus Galacticis

"On the Galactic Emperors"

Chapter the Fifteenth.

(As continued from Chapter the Fourteenth.)

Hapan Star Cluster,
RHS Dragon's Field


Admiral Lady Leyane d'Sevila, Seventh Duchess of Sevila, was a career naval officer who had inheirited her elder sister's Duchy three years prior after she was assasinated in the sometimes unstable Hapan political climate. The Admiral had never once considered retiring to administer the place; there were professionals who could do that better than her and it just put excessive risk into her life, anyway. Her skills were better needed here, in the Royal Hapan Starfleet. Her promotion to command of the main fleet operational force had come after the debacle at Fondor when the Hapan fleet was nearly decimated and its officer corps certainly was, in an engagement that had least also annihilated the Vong fleet and halted their advance for precious weeks.

The fleet had been rebuilt in record time, though. In fact, the Hapans had outdone themselves. With a fully intact and centralized industrial base (which, though nobody wanted to admit it, had been improved significantly during the reign of the Imperial-inspired puppet government at the heyday of the Galactic Empire) the Hapans had laid down and constructed five massive assault carriers as a replacement for the heavy capital ships losses they had taken. The ships countered their lack of armour with tremendous shielding banks and massive numbers of staggered reactors. The lack of modern heavy turbolasers was dealt with by simply arming the ships with the hoardes of high-quality fighters available to the Hapan government. They were carriers, albeit only of necessity; double-saucer hulls filled to capacity with countless thousands of attack craft.

These ships were supported by the few remaining survivors of the Hapan Battle Dragon-class of destroyers and the remaining Imperator and Victory-class destroyers from the Imperial occupation days--which had suffered less heavily because many had been mothballed from a lack of parts (though that had its own problems). The assault carriers themselves dwarfed even Executor-class battlecruisers. There was, though, one of those here, but not their's. The RNS Lusankya had arrived along with the Republican contigents that had refused to bow to Sule's Imperial aspirations.

Leia Organa-Solo had been in consultations with Her Majesty regularly for several days after that, and the Hapan fleet had been ordered to deploy to the frontier of what was now Vong space, through the astrographic anomalies that had made this region such a pirate haven in the first place, and had ultimately led to the foundation of the reclusive Hapan matriarchal government. The Republican vessels had joined them, and they had even established a joint command. The heaviest contribution was Hapan, for even among the small forces the loyalist Republicans had retired with, many had headed to other locales to raise local resistance, leaving their contribution decidedly smaller than the Hapan main fleet.

It had left Leyane decidedly uncomfortable to be in the position of giving orders to officers who had considerably more experience and indeed seniority than her own, even in a rival service. However, in the end the organisation had been reshuffled thanks to the fortuitous arrival of Admiral Ackbar from Mon Cal with a cruiser force. He had been placed in overall command with General Antilles--thanks to the odd system of the Restored Republic and its military heritage rooted in a rebel force, Starfighter Corps officers could command fleets--as third overall on the Lusankya. But just as soon as everything had been settled down, the force proceeded to sit and do absolutely nothing. Her Majesty, it was rumoured, had directly and personally refused to commit forces yet.

During all the waiting they had done, however, becoming steadily more worried about their possible discovery, the situation had changed. It was found out that, in fact, they had less to be concerned about than had been believed. The Vong were drawing off forces by the hundreds of ships for their main thrust on Coruscant or perhaps some ancilliary operation. They had stripped the conquered territories bare and in doing so had opened a tremendous possibility for the Hapan Starfleet. Fondor could indeed be revenged. It would but take the Royal order to fling them into action now. It had not come yet, but as precise news filtered back to Hapes--the complete dearth of Vong scouts in the area, the confirmation of the defensive lines being stripped--the pressure on the government could only grow.

The pressure also grew on the fleet, waiting there in silence for a message from an arriving courier to advance. Most of them realized that they would not get a better chance. Perhaps they would never get another chance at all. But their Monarch had her reasons for delay, and there remained nothing to do but wait and wonder, silently ready to lunge out of the tangled masses of suns and matter as their ancestors had done before them.


The Sol System,
RRS Bloodwing.


Harlann E. Quir held the bearing of an Imperial officer despite his long disassociation from the service. Despite, indeed, his reported death. Missing in Action, presumed killed, and the universe had gotten on with itself. He was not a bitter man; the conquistadors of the Milky Way had become like all such conquerors and it was just in the nature of the successful. His fate had gone somewhat differently, but in the end it was they who had changed. Corrupted by the far-flung extent of their conquest and the awesome riches that had built up under it. Eccentrics playing with their rebuilt ancient villas and their ostentatious displays of power.

There was a time when the Empire had raised up the banner of revolutionary ideology proudly. Captain Quir had then been a stalwart believer in it. In some ways, he still was. But the Empire and its purpose had died. What was replacing it was a collection of those who sought power for their own sake. Perhaps they would even be just; but they were also arbitrary autocrats. The dangers of both Republic and Empire had now been demonstrated. There was not much else to choose from. Still, the perspective of being 'dead' had provided some distance: what he was attempting had little chance of succeeding, especially with his old autocratic friends now having rallied support against the Vong threat.

An interesting fact of the galaxy had long left him curious. Harlann was, perhaps, a racist. He believed at any rate in the superiourity of his own species and felt it odd that this could be questioned. But his distinctions were not arbitrary--they were based on the decently grounded belief that there could be noticeable and meaningful differences between genetically distinct species. The problem with the old Empire's system was that it ignored the fact that many of the species it discriminated against were in fact humans. They were capable of reproducing with humans; thus they were genetically, for all intents and purposes, human.

Science, in the pathetic age of the Jedi, had become half-mystical. Real research and development had fallen mute against the ironclad length of tradition, the awesome duration of the Republic. Society had ossified and the mystical had been held in its lording place by the Jedi, those preservers of the Republic, of custom, and ultimately of ignorance. The New Order had swept that all away. The age of rational government was supposed to arise from it, of efficiency and technological Genius over the wallowing mysticism of the dead Republic. And in some ways it had. Technological development had progressed more in the past fifty years than the past thousand.

Ultimately, however, the New Order had simply been the facade for another of the mystical madmen--a different flavour, surely, but nothing else--to gain power over the galaxy. The war between those two variants of the same corrupt and superstitious ideology had in the end destroyed them both, however, and left not one but two galaxies open for the advance of enlightened government. In some ways the Federation provided a model. They had been, of course, communist fanatics, with a totalitarian control over society. That was all nonsense. The government that Harlann envisioned was a guiding hand of Reason--not a corrupt every to control every aspect of a nation's society.

The New Order would blossom again, pure and true to aims, which transcended any leader. The Revolution that would restore society, the New Age of science and Reason, was not a coming that could be any longer halted. It would be imposed by force of arms and the human blood shed for it would be justified in the prosperity that it would bring to the generations to come. There would be no limit to human advance, to human ingenuity. That was the true goal of the New Order, to enable that age of human achievement to arise throughout the universe, and it would be achieved.

There was a chance he would fail. Indeed, it was a high probability. That would not stop the eventual realization of the goal, however, simply delay it; so he had begun these plans with a certain degree both of fatalism and also of certitude. His old life, at any rate, was quite dead. It had burned in time and in the fires of a galaxy torn apart by barbarian invasion. To Harlann the Vong were an anathema and he would more than defeat them, he would exterminate them. That brought up the first problem of his effort: His opponents for the government of two galaxies were right now locked in mortal combat with a very legitimate threat. Though the situation was not entirely clear to him--despite the number of supporters he had already gained among similiar adherents to the New Order who remained in the home galaxy--it was certain enough that human civilization's fate probably rested on the competence of his former commander in the days to come.

The RNS Bloodwing had left Terran orbit after snatching up Davion in a way that the Imperial authorities would have never considered--transporters. To Harlann the moral questions of their use had become irrelevant, and Hamner had never at any rate been bothered by morality (as if he had much of a choice in the matter) when power was at stake. Officially the Rihannsu vessels were supposed to have had such contrivances removed, but of course once they had their little puppet state back at Hamner's contrivance, that rule had been violated for several ships. The Bloodwing could not even engage a corvette by Imperial standards, but she would serve as a fast transport.

Harlann could have moved immediately when in Terran orbit, but he did not. It would be easier to create confusion, to prepare for Hamner's declaration, and to arrange matters with the Starfleet--which was, of course, now his. Some competent men had their weaknesses in the flesh, and those would serve his goals no matter how contemptible they might be. Another twelve hours and they would in a position for Hamner to make his declaration in a secure and legitimately Imperial locality. Sule would still be fighting the Vong then, and there would be no way for his loyalists to react in time.


The Corellia System,
Allied system defence forces.


"Well, it was obvious that he was waiting for something," Mystrela remarked quietly as the squadrons of Vong ships flashed into existence in the outer system, serried rank after serried rank, dozens and then hundreds of them. In numbers they were overwhelming, but individually none of the ships were impressive. They were all light patrol types made dangerous only by their numbers, but they would be serious trouble when operating in conjunction with the remaining Vong heavies, and the enemy commander had made sure to position his surviving force to cover them--without coordination equipment and alone the Kuatis could have chopped them up. Because of their need to defend the inner planets, however, doing so was simply impossible.

"Even with the support of the heavies they're not enough to give the enemy a decisive advantage, Director," di Syminar reported after a moment at the holoprojector. "They don't have sufficient numbers for swarming tactics against our concentrated force and their firepower is a miniscule addition considering lack of weapons with overload capacity against the shields of our line."

"They can't stay ignorant about their supply lines to Imperial Centre being blocked, and he'll engage then no matter what. He can't have us in our rear when he goes to relieve Talfaglio," Mystrela replied, standing slowly and moving to pace along the side of the holoprojector, her expression carefully masked as her eyes seemed to study it; her mind, however, was focused inward on the complexity of the intermingled problems she faced.

Time was not on her side in her deliberations as the two Vong fleets effected their linkup. But a calm voice absolved her of the need to make any decision. "Director," Miat Temm approached unnoticed and spoke as to make Mystrela start slightly, eyes flashing to her. "It is time for you to abandon the system and move to Talfaglio. There is no need for the presence of your fleet--or Sal-Solo's--here any longer."

The words sounded insane. They were insane. And, yet.... "What do you mean by that? The population of Coruscant must be protected, abandoning them would be a base treachery after we have established this defence and held it. The situation is by no means in doubt, we still have enough firepower to repel them."

"An understandable opinion," Miat agreed politely. "We know, after all, that the Vong are irrational actors and likely to press home the attack on the planets regardless of cost. But so far that has not been done. Among Vong commanders, the one we are facing is of a distinctly rational bent. He will not attack the planets--not when he has already destroyed the shipyards--at an unacceptable cost. They are simply people, simply objects, and they can be dealt with later, especially since he has succeeded in the industrial reduction of the system already."

"That may well be so, but removing the fleet guarantees that no significant opposition will be faced in an effort to reduce the planets," Mystrela answered, trying to keep down her annoyance with this most bizzare of interruptions in the midst of battle. "Not all of the planets in the system are shielded, and it is unlikely that the Imperial Starfleet can arrive in time to drive them off before they breach Corellia's shielding with sustained fire."

"He will not attack." The reply held in it a tone of perfect finality from an expressionless face. "I am going to take Jaina Solo with me and we are going to go to Centrepoint Station."

"You're insane. The Station was severely damaged following the Fondor operation, by all the accounts I've heard. It's worthless now, and even then it would destroy our own ships alongside their's..." Mystrela's eyes widened, albeit fractionally. The temptation of the event seemed to strike her, then, and oddly, for her objections were sound.

"And he does not know that it has been--at least, sure enough to risk himself, that is." Smiling, she was, an amused and secretive look to say the least. "You are correct, Vong operatives hit the station later; but the success of that mission was never confirmed, and even if it had been, a sane man would not trust the confirmation in front of contrary evidence presented to his eyes. When your fleet leaves the system and Centrepoint Station begins to build in power, a rational actor will be able to make only one decision about what is upcoming. His own intelligence will get the better of him: He will have to conclude that you left to clear the way for a shot by the Station. Any other way, yes, and it would be madness--but in this fashion we will leave him no choice."

"How can you begin a power build with the principal systems disabled?" Mystrela highly doubted that any Vong would be that cautious, and the premise that Miat Temm offered seemed somehow hollow... But in her mind, she seemed equally sure of its success, and could not quite place the reason for her doing so, when it seemed so contrary...

"The reactor still functions, providing energy for the habitation levels inside. Most of the systems inside the station remain operative. All internally radiated power can be directed into external radiation. The massive buildup in energy radiation can be directed through the same heat vanes that keep the firing system stable. A massive buildup in radiated energy will be detected by passive sensors in the area of the firing mechanism. There are sufficient jamming mechanisms on the station to guarantee that active sensors from any distance will be unable to differentiate this buildup from the real thing, which the Vong have only had the opportunity to theorize about and never actually witness from a distance of less than several thousand lightyears before, at any rate."

"And what will happen to the station's population when you transfer all internal energy into the heat vanes?"

"We will begin broadcasting an evacuation order from the moment we arrive. Those who listen to it and get to vacuum suites or escape pods will suvive. Those who do not will freeze to death."

There were several tens of thousands of people living on Centrepoint in the habitable sectors, which offered the imitation of a habitable planet except in the reverse horizon. Most would survive, but a fair percentage would not. Weighed against the danger, the choice was obvious. "Are you sure you can operate the controls to the necessary level of proficiency?" Somehow or another, she had been convinced of the feasability of the idea, or more precisely had convinced herself.

"Absolutely."

"Then do it." Mystrela turned away from Miat Temm, to whom she had for some reason entrusted hundreds of billions of lives, and started to head for the astrogation bank on her flagbridge. Then she paused, and turned back. Temm was already starting to leave. "Miat Temm?"

The woman stopped in mid-stride and turned back towards Mystrela quite fluidly, her eyes betraying no emotion. "Yes?"

"Can you pre-plot a microjump?"

"I can," Miat Temm answered, and for the first time, her voice seemed to falter slightly as she looked to Mystrela. An unpleasant sensation crossed over the Kuati scion's flesh, then, and looking into Miat Temm's eyes she saw a sort of haunted, horrible knowledge that struck with the tang of death.

"Then please do it before you leave, for the point I give to fleet astrogation," Mystrela managed in an unaffected tone, somehow.

"Are you sure?"

"Do you think it unwise?"

"Any answer to that question, Mystrela, would be a lie."

Her own voice caught, then, feeling what her mind could not quite discern, or settle upon, and the words came almost unbidden to her lips: "I do believe I understand."

"I think you do as well."

She walked in an uneasy silence with Temm to the astrogation banks. "Set up some plots for a fleet jump to Talfaglio, approximately four lightyears spinward; let Lady Temm log the computations for a microjump in-system from her preferred exact point," Mystrela ordered to fleet astrogation, not even realizing that she'd used the same sort of title of respect with which she might have addressed Lord Vader, once, long ago. She then stepped on to the comms bank, trying to push aside the uneasiness and knowing that her biggest problem was how to convince Sal-Solo.... Thus she composed herself for the communications with Thracken Sal-Solo's flagship, knowing that there was one way to do it, of course, and she hardly had any compunctions about it now, with that sense of finality hanging over her and pressing down on the burden already held.

"Establish a direct holo-link with President Sal-Solo's flagship, priority communication."

Twenty seconds ticked away and Sal-Solo, still sitting in the central chair of his flagbridge, looked rather annoyed as he responed to Mystrela's communication. The two, however, were equals by any measure; both heads of state but with questionable bases of support. Thus he did not suppose to ignore her as such, and she had the naval experience besides.

"We must retire from the system immediately, President."

"Director. The correlation of forces is not that bad, and even if it was, do we have a choice but to hold?" He seemed genuinely surprised by the idea of retreat, which was certainly a point in his favour considering his prior reputation. Pitted against the Vong, however, many heroes had become cowards, and perhaps some cowards had in turn gained a bit of spine.

"Centrepoint Station is going to engage the enemy, President. If any ships remain in the system they will almost certainly be destroyed. The only thing protecting the planets in this sector of the Corellian system will be the strength of their planetary shields." Betraying no emotion she spoke as though discussing agricultural output statistics; there was no trace of even interest in her voice. It was simply going to happen.

The effect on Thracken Sal-Solo was immediate. "That's impossible; I was there, Director; I remember the aftermath as well. I assure you that Centrepoint Station was to heavily damaged to be useful in any sort of operation whatsoever."

"That is not quite correct, President, though I grant it is the common perception. It seems rather odd that, considering your presence at the action, you deny the truth. The station is still capable of functioning under the appropriate operator."

"You do not know that; the Vong took measures against the station." A pause, then: "Besides, he is dead," Sal-Solo's voice cut quite coldly.

"Khon danest khon, President. Blood knows blood. The surviving Solo child is here and she will operate the weapon."

Eyes met across a distance linked by holograph, the transmission clear enough here for Sal-Solo's expression to be seen, the realization, and the possibility to held. "Will she really use it?"

The words tore into her; she said them anyway. "You have my word--not as Director of Kuat, but as an Imperial Officer--that the operation of the station's weaponry against the fleet is her intent."

"Then what is our destination, Admiral?"

"Talfaglio, President Sal-Solo," she replied, ignoring the use of her old rank. "Where all the glory in the universe is waiting for us." It was an easy lie, and true, even, from a certain perspective.


Five against the universe. Miat Temm strode into the secondary command centre of the Centrepoint station, control panels flickering on in her wake, an ominous poltergist of her power that seemed almost done without conscious thought. The people of the station rarely ventured to this haunted rooms of indiscernable alien glyphs. Centrepoint simply worked, as it always had, and provided life. They did not trust themselves to meddle in those ancient inner workings. Jaina followed in her footsteps, as though caught between her father and Fel behind her and Miat Temm ahead. Then the woman paused and turned back, expansively, her eyes taking in the four who trailed her. Softening, that look, as it settled onto Jaina. "I will need your help for this, you know." There seemed to be something heavy in the expression suggesting that the others leave, even if the words were unspoken.

Han Solo did not like that look. There was something undefinable in it... He traded a significant look with Jag Fel. The young man was equally worried about Jaina. Shawnkyr held back, studiously composed and silent. They would have to begin soon with the proposed ruse; the combined Kuati-Corellian fleet had already left and it would only take tens of minutes at most for the Vong commander to make up his mind on how to advance into the inner system, or to eliminate the possibility of any trap having been set.

"General Solo," Miat spoke in a soft voice which seemed, perhaps, to echo a bit more than the command chamber allowed. "Your daughter will be fine, I swear it."

His words were cut off before they could form. That wild, haunted expression threatened him; it seemed to hearken of horrors that could not be spoken, or perhaps evils. He could not be sure, and ultimately there was a crushing realization of his own need to trust Jaina. Here, here in the place where his sons had quarreled, one now dead and the other off there in the grip of the Vong. Here, where the power to destroy worlds seemed to lurk under the surf, as indeed once it had. He looked to his daugher and Jaina gazed back.

"Dad, she showed us that Jacen is still alive. We've chosen to trust her... And now Corellia is on the line. I can't stop here, and I don't think you can either." The soft words carried as Miat waited patiently.

"I'm not trading one of my children for the other," Han replied in a gruffly strained voice. He felt old, again, the euphoria of battle faded, Miat Temm's presence always sinister, never quite sane--and, yet, never having done anything untrustworthy, either. Indeed, she had offered hope for the life of his son where there had been none. "I don't want you to destroy yourself, Jaina."

"Dad... I can't change what I've seen, what I've done, what's going on. Neither can you; I know what you felt like during the battle. I... Do you really think that was wrong?"

A heady silence, packed with a miasma of feeling. Han Solo looked to his daughter and thought back to those desperate hours before. His mind and his heart raised the objections that long association with Luke and Jedi philosophy had provided, but they could not conquer the basic understanding of the humanness of those emotions, the feelings that had driven him despite his profession to fight slavers, and, ultimately, turn back towards the Death Star all those long decades ago. He had to let go; he had to recognize that his daughter by her nature knew the dangers ahead better than he, and it must be accepted if Jacen was to be saved.

"No. No, kiddo, it isn't." His expression turned a ghost of a smile to Miat Temm. "Good luck." Then he turned and headed out.

Fel and Shawnkyr followed, but at the last moment, Temm spoke up. "Shawnkyr, I'd appreciate it if you stayed. We shall need a third pair of hands."

"Of course," she replied, turning back. Just before the door to the alcove closed, Han Solo realized that the only one of them who had stayed with the two force sensitives was the one who did not care about Jaina in some form or another. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

The doors shut, and Temm turned her head fractionally to Shawnkyr. "I would appreciate it if you took the targeting control station." There was a gesture to the chair behind her and then she walked towards Jaina. "Long ago, the Jedi Order realized that rigid discipline was required for the average force adept to avoid succombing to the temptations of the world. Of power and sociopathy, lust, avarice, greed; of pleasure in torture and massacre and of things unspoken."

"The dark side is a cruel and seductive thing," Jaina answered, almost by rote. "There are reasons for that discipline--you admit it yourself. But I feel you slipping..."

"Do you!?" Miat Temm snapped, a vicious gesture punctuating the question as she moved to stand, eyes focusing in with intensity upon Jaina as her look froze in something that was almost contempt, or perhaps wonder. "You do not know what is within me, but we both know what is within you. You said it yourself to your father: The cold rage of the wounded heart, recoiled by atrocity and loss. The Jedi Order forgot that there can be reason in evil, and passion in good. It is to the later feelings that I speak. The same emotion that drives someone to give their last drop of water to a dying enemy on the field of battle is also that which compels one to end the life of a suffering relative when all that lies ahead is pain. Perhaps most are far to weak to indulge in one part of this thing without succombing to the rest, and need the sort of rigid constraints of the Jedi Order.

"I, however, am driven by the souls of the dead. My only desire is to avenge those who can no longer speak for themselves, and they will not rest until I have done so. I am left with no choice, nor would I want any sort of choice, for my heart tells me what is righteous regardless. But it is the purpose that has been imbued within me--the madness, perhaps--that resides within me and gives me the power to resist what others might not. You experienced but a foretaste of that on Coruscant."

"Revenge, also is a path to the Dark Side." But it is so tempting, so tempting.. Her mind wavered uncomfortably as she met Miat Temm's steady, unwavering gaze, filled with a fullness of power and intensity. "You tread..."

"Close to nothing. Do you sense me as being any worse off than I was when you first encountered me?"

"...No, I do not."

Miat moved in suddenness, a swift stride bringing her against Jaina and her hands grasping the young woman's, dragging her in up against herself, the intensity seeming inhuman as their eyes were abruptly mere inches apart. It seemed as though energy crackled around them where it did not, and Jaina could not muster herself to resist.

"It is justice, Jaina, justice--and if justice is in revenge, then let us take our revenge! That is the feeling, the passion that all sentient beings share. An instinctive understanding of evil that transcends culture and forms our true inner morality. The Vong have turned themselves away from it and they are damned. It is the one thing that we share and it underwrites our laws; legal justice but dimly reflects what we know in our hearts. In fear of evil the Jedi Order tried to banish from themselves the true sense that drives one to oppose evil, and in that was their downfall--twice, now, and so it shall be again if you do not take this lesson into your hearts.

"Jaina," her voice became so terribly soft, then, but with an undercurrent that slowly rose: "The Emperor was powerful and untutored in the force knowledge, missed by the Jedi Order and raised up without their restraint. He came to the Sith and to terrible evil. But it began with the best of intentions. He knew, Jaina! That was the reason for the Empire! It was changed and perverted over time, but the idea that was conceived was to defend the people of this galaxy, and others beyond us, from the Vong. Now we must struggle on as best as we can to fulfill that noble goal, even if the one who conceived of it has fallen into the horrors that he so richly deserves."

"And if we cannot control ourselves, as the Emperor could not?" Jaina asked in a whisper. "What becomes of us then?"

"Then our fate is to be damned," Miat replied simply. "But... If that is so, then at least there will be a gem of hope that someday, from some place, someone will rise up to destroy us. The Vong will not even leave that. I would abandon myself to eternity in the agonies of my own sin before I let the hope go out of the universe." She stepped back, releasing Jaina, her expression faltering, her voice just a husky, whispering remnant of itself. Jaina realized that Miat was nearly crying with the intensity of feeling which she had as she continued: "I have seen the end of all, Jaina, and I need you that we might be saved from the shadow's fall."

"What do you ask of me?" Jaina answered, taking up the uncertain fate offered to her.

"We will try our ruse first. If it fails..." She paused, then, and turned to the now-operating projector. "Well, let us cross that bridge when we come to it."


Corellian System,
Eye of Yun-Haarla


"Commander, forgive me the interruption," Vidang Tahng's chief of staff approached, saluting stiffly and bowing. Erslah Savain's look held an unusual amount of anxiety that brought the interruption with particularly intensity to Vidang Tahng's attention.

"Then tell me what it is for," He answered crisply, one eye staying on the holoprojector vilip that continued to show a shockingly empty star system, the retreat of the Corellian-Kuati fleet still having not made any sense, and his wariness such that he did not presume to doubt there was some sort of trap behind the entire retreat of the force. The issue would have been in doubt fighting them, and he assumed that was enough of a chance for them to stand and fight with so much on the line...

"Scans have detected unusual increases in energy radiation from the abomination called by the Infidels 'Centrepoint Station', which as you may recall was responsible for the destruction of the Fondor attack force..." By the time Erslah Savain had trailed off he had seen something he had never expected from the stoical Vidang Tahng. His face, already the typical colourless gray of the Vong peoples, had seemed to if anything drain even more thoroughly of colour.

"Is it confirmed?" He whispered harshly.

"It is confirmed, Commander." Erslah Savain replied, trying to contain a feeling which, from that expression, was becoming temptingly contagious.

"General Signals: Fleet reverse course, immediately!" Vidang Tahng bellowed into the flag bridge. "All ships, reverse thrust, emergency flank power!" The crew, which had at last had their truculence intimidated out of them those grim hours ago, at last obeyed with the promptness that Vidang Tahng needed. The time he needed, to evaluate what might be just moments from becoming a very fatal situation to his entire command.

The signals went out with their desperate haste; dovin basals were re-attuned and the direction of gravitic force shifted. With the slowness of a fleet of thousands of ships and craft, no matter the level of communications sophistication, they began to reduce speed steadily, engines applying maximal reverse thrust and everyone needing to watch to avoid collisions between ships stacked in the formations that were of different thrust ratios. But despite the difficulties, despite the hash it would make of the attacks on the outer planets and the deployment around Corellia, it seemed to be working in some way. Centrepoint Station had, after all, not yet engaged them with the expected fatal results.

Their continued survival was, in fact, the odd thing about it at that. The station's range, after all, had been demonstrated at Fondor to be in the thousands of lightyears, and yet they had not been attacked so far, when they could have been easily and safely annihilated at any time after the last of the Corellian and Kuati ships left the system. It didn't smell right to Vidang Tahng, but the risk was so great that he did not regret his orders. Something, however, would have to be gambled to confirm the status of Centrepoint Station.

"Get me Tirlin Vasong," he ordered as the brief chaos on the flag bridge died down. The order was obeyed with the same promptness--perhaps because they wanted to see what the second ranking officer in the fleet would have to say about the whole thing.

A moment later he flashed into existance before Vidang Tahng, and as expected, was quite upset. He was nominally from a different command, anyway, and wasn't likely to think much of Vidang Tahng considering his prior post in charge of mine warfare with the Warmaster's fleets. But he had, at least, obeyed orders--though his command had been reduced anyway to make up losses in Vidang Tahng's screen, and that reduced component was now functioning as an attached scouting force. Which was just what Vidang Tahng needed at the moment, anyway, a fortuitous circumstance indeed.

"Take your force towards Centrepoint Station immediately, prepared for action," Vidang Tahng ordered before any protests to the prior orders could be raised. "We have detected an unusual power surge from the station and I fear it could be charging for an attack against the fleet." A wave of his hand. "Yes, I know about our sabotage mission. The fact that it is has not fired yet lends me to believe it is some sort of ruse. But I cannot risk the whole fleet to that assumption when its being incorrect would assure our destruction, and prevent us from carrying out our mission. To you, thus, I give the honour of advancing on the station and determining if it is operational or not. Regardless of its status, as soon as you enter weapons range you are to open fire and destroy it. It is, after all, an abomination, and regardless of the circumstances of this power surge we may as well take this opportunity to see it destroyed."

"Of course, Commander. I hear and obey." He saluted stiffly and the com channel cut off immediately as he went to carry out his orders, his annoying superiour now safe to ignore in the context of his instructions.

"Should we make any adjustments to course, Commander?" Erslah Savain asked carefully.

"No. Maintain maximum reverse thrust. If something happens to Tirlin Vasong then we will, hopefully, be clear of the area of effects. Just to be sure, though, I want an emergency hyperjump plotted out for the fleet--immediately!"

"I obey, Commander!"

Vidang Tahng had already turned back to the plot, and was watching it in a stiff anticipation which was now shared by the entire fleet as Tirlin Vasong began to shift his scounting force away from the other squadrons and align towards Centrepoint Station.


The Corellia System,
Centrepoint Station.


"Well, that didn't work as well as we'd hoped it would," Jaina muttered. "Three hundred odd scout ships are more than enough to take out Centrepoint Station, and then they'll be free to advance into the system. At least we've bought a few hours, I suppose."

"There are a few fighters and gunships on the Station that the inhabitants can surely be convinced to launch in defence of their home, and we have enough time for them to get their crafts prepared even as we are still bringing back heat and enviromental systems. Combined with our own efforts, we can certainly add time to that delay, do damage to the enemy, and trust that relief will come, at least before the planetary shields have been overwhelmed." At the cost of our lives, and with no hope for the outer planets, was unspoken but obvious from the Chiss woman, who had remained stoically calm through it all.

Miat Temm listened to them both and then smiled gently to Jaina. "There is something we can do--if you are willing, for I do not have the power nor innate ability to accomplish it on my own."

"Time to cross the bridge?" Jaina flipped back, but smiled tightly. "What is it?"

Instead of answering, Temm looked towards Shawnkyr and her expression grew with deadly ernest. "You had best leave, now. Warn the others to retreat down several decks. I cannot guarantee their safety in close proximity to us, though you may assure General Solo that nothing shall actually, physically, happen to us."

"Should any launch orders be communicated to the station populace?" Shawnkyr answered, though she already headed towards the exit to the control centre.

"No. In fact, they should expressly remain where they are, since those areas should be radiation shielded. I am not sure of the consequences of what I intend to attempt, except for its potential against the enemy force." A pause, then: "Make sure they both go below with you, Shawnkyr. I am quite serious about the potential effects being uncertain."

"Of course, Lady Temm." Shawnkyr strode out, and as the door shut, Miat looked back to Jaina.

"Do you have faith in the righteousness of our cause?" Her voice challenged as though the dead, indeed, spoke through her; perhaps in that moment they did, demanding, testing to the last and the utmost.

"I gave you my commitment, I'm not wavering from it," Jaina answered firmly, almost annoyed despite that unearthly tone.

"Then open your mind to me. Let me guide you in what we must do together. Trust me, Jaina, and our shared purpose will be the bond by which we shall defend Corellia. It is all we need."

It was a paramount act of faith, but it was accomplished. The shields a Jedi naturally builds up, the shields they are trained to raise, the shields of pain and grief and the resistance of the normal mind, all of these things had to be stripped away. What was being proposed was a form of intimacy usually only found among Jedi who were lovers. But it was enacted between those who had only known each other tenuously, for a few months, for what was inside of them could not be denied. They had a shared purpose and they did not shirk from it, they did not any longer deny it. They had committed themselves to the same tasks and now they would bear the toil required of them.

Jaina felt the pain and the horror that dwelt in Miat Temm's mind. The insanity that had been brought to her by the dead of Coruscant, that she had somehow survived despite all the crushing weight of the demands of the dead that had been imposed upon her. She saw the moment they overwhelmed Miat Temm and she felt the changes that had been wrought in her mind and, indeed, in her own, by that terrible perception of the surface of Coruscant. They were both on their knees, then, but they did not even know it. They were of each other and of their cause in those moments where time stood still.

Miat Temm was a clone. Jaina understood that instantly, somehow, in a way that had been masked before by the power of the forces that now drove her. They traded horrors, fears, shames, great and small, epic and personal, and indeed they would never be quite the same again from it. United in purpose, they acted, even as Jaina realized what Miat intended. But it was to late to go back, and in herself Jaina no longer felt the well to resist. Submerged, twinned representations of a common act. The objections were swept aside as they became part of a purpose greater than the wholes of those who had brought it to fruition.

The instincts of a fighter pilot provided the initiation point in the middle of the approaching scout force, and the foreknowledge and past-knowledge of Temm's madness reached out there with their dual strength, and broke through the fabric that seperated the True from the Illusion. There became a place in the universe where a power that was beyond interaction was exposed to, and thus tried to interact with, the dimly reflected shades of that universe. The greater hidden power overcame that which was before it as though it did not exist, because exposed to it, an event beyond the possibilities or understanding of any sort of physical knowledge, that which was of the universe indeed did not exist. The imperfect mirror was exposed to Reality, and the Reality banished it.

Miat Temm and Jaina Solo had unleashed a Force Storm on the Vong squadron, and it spread rapidly, guided by their dual will, threatening to consume the whole Vong fleet within the system, and more. For one terrible and seductive moment, they felt the power to destroy the whole Vong race in their hands, and they nearly did. But just as the intensity and size was growing geometrically, expansion compounding on expansion, intensity upon intensity, at a rate that seemed speeding in those moments that, themselves, seemed as if they were not happening--through that power which they channeled, the madness into which they dove, Jaina remembered her brother. Or perhaps it is only right to say that they remembered their brother; for in that moment they were as one.

A perfect and awful certitude came, of his death if the course was followed and countless of other deaths of innocents, of those who might yet be saved from within the night. It came, and it saved them, somehow. What had almost gained a life of its own, what they had almost become, halted. Their wills overcame it and then it ended, banished from the moment that their own power triumphed over what they had, indeed, themselves created. That which they had drawn forth they had turned back, in the same application of the force of will which had driven them to it.

The Force Storm vanished. Jaina and Miat were on the floor of the secondary control centre, comatose. But their bodies were untouched and did not even sweat; the room was as-if nothing at all had taken place. It seemed as if no time at all had passed for all except those two, who had just experienced two eternities at once to their own minds, which was where the deed had been confined. Or so it seemed, until the scans of desperate people on the station and the planet suddenly were able to again penetrate areas which for a brief time had seemed to cease to exist. Areas which contained the Vong fleet.

There was not a single Vong starship or craft left in the Corellia system. Every single one of them was gone. Centrepoint sat silent, unchanged. It had emitted no excess energies. What had happened, had come from somewhere else entirely. It was not understood by any except those that had unleashed it--however, it was felt by others. Across a vast span of the galaxy, linked to the event only by that shared inner power, Luke Skywalker bowed his head and wept.




De Imperatoribus Galacticis will be continued in Chapter the Sixteenth.

[LordShaithis]

Damnit. I click the fanfic forum for the first time in months, and now I'm up to my armpits in this, Chuck's newest fic, and Shep's Draka thing. I'm never gonna get any sleep.

Good stuff. More please.

[Sea Skimmer]

I really don't think Centerpoint station would begin to freeze if this plan went into effect. You simply don't lose heat very quickly though radiation, if anything they should roast to death if power isn't being fed run some very large banks of radiators.

[CmdrWilkens]

Well I'm still reading it and still loving it so I think I'll pass over the in depth thoughts and just say pleasemore keep it up and thanks for another great chapter.

[darthdavid]

Execellent.

[phongn]

YAY FANFIC.

Poor, poor Jaina...

[LordShaithis]

What was being proposed was a form of intimacy usually only found among Jedi who were lovers. But it was enacted between those who had only known each other tenuously, for a few months, for what was inside of them could not be denied.

Schwing!

Ok, joking aside, you ought to just go ahead and make these two a couple. I don't mean add a bunch of "fan service" and turning it into pr0n. I mean make it a legitimate plot-point and let us see how the characters react. It would certainly be different.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

Thank you all for your comments; I appreciate written comments here very much, indeed.

Sea Skimmer: I will think about that and probably change it in the archival copy.

Prawn: I am so not going to comment on that except to assure you that I did in fact read it.

[LordShaithis]

I hope that means you plan to do so, but don't want to reveal plot-points ahead of time.

Then have Kyp come up and try to put the moves on Jaina, only to get shot down in flames. Yeah, I know it should be Jag. But Jag is okay in an uptight sort of way, while Kyp is just a wanker.