De Imperatoribus Galacticis: Chapter the Twenty-Fourth.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

De Imperatoribus Galacticis

"On the Galactic Emperors"

Chapter the Twenty-Fourth.

(As continued from The Apotheosis of Miat Temm.)


Imperial Starfleet
Ord Mantell System.


The level of activity in orbit of blasted Ord Mantell was no less intense than it was during the height of a great battle. On the hull of every damaged ship there were men working vigorously, using arc-torches and wielders, bringing in massively thick plates of armour which were patched onto torn and rent holes in the sides of the great ships. Ruined internal structure was removed where possible, and systems restored where possible. When they could not be, when there were holes left inside the hulls of the ships, huge mobile piping systems were extended from repair vessels, through tiny gaps cut in the hull which would then be closed and patched themselves, and then great quantities of ferrocrete were pumped through the pipes and into the ruined sectors, filling them with the strongest artificial rock known to science to prevent the existing damage to the ships from being exploited by further enemy fire.

Wherever there were spare parts for the batteries they were used, replacing as many guns as possible among the number of those which had been knocked out. The fleet train supplied additional tibana gas and missiles, and replacement fighters were piloted in by droids in droves of tens of thousands. Additional ships were arriving, too. Many were not even finished; the Stardrive Yards sent droids and their own employees with them, and ragged crews of conscripts. The Drive Yards workers continued to work in hyperspace, so that men in magnetic boots were climbing carefully along the hulls of the great starships even as they flickered out of the mottled reality of hyperspace and back into realspace at Ord Mantell, and others worked inside the ships, finishing critical components. The crew slept on the metal floors with blankets hastily issued to them as they had left.

With the Vong threat eliminated, the remaining defenders of the Imperial Remnant had been mustered by Pellaeon, entirely stripping the area. Every single armed ship with a hyperdrive was ordered to muster at Ord Mantell from the Imperial Remnant, and they did. The few ships set up to guard the supply lines of the Grand Fleet were also mustered in to boost its numbers, and Sule made a general call for every loyal sector, the threat of the Vong removed, to send all the reinforcements in their possession to boost the warfleet of their rightful sovereign. Not enough heeded the call, for in the events happening, much of the galaxy waited and watched to see the victor, and would not willingly risk their necks for either side. Those who had already fought and bled and seen their comrades die with the fleet, though, did stay, and would fight hard; they had triumphed under Sule's command, and that was motivation enough.

Even the Tonnant was going to fight. Her captain had slept five hours in the past six days, and was running on stimulants. He oversaw every detail of the desperate repair effort to make the great and vital Executor ready. Armour for the repairs was not available in sufficient thickness; they sandwiched many pieces of lesser thickness together using ferrocrete between the layers. Damaged sections of the ship were restored, and those that were destroyed, entirely cored out by the kamikazis, were simply flooded with ferrocrete. Forward, every sector that could be repaired was, and they located how far the structural strength in the internal superstructure of the ship remained intact. Then they cut off everything beyond that point, and wielded layers of armour to the superstructure at that point to form a truncated bow, and then filled the burnt-out superstructure behind it with more ferrocrete.

As many batteries as possible were restored; the main gun firepower and CIWS of the ship were both restored to 85% of their original levels. Full shielding and full engine power remained available. Where power feeds were truncated due to the areas that they had served being missing, creative engineers spliced in the power feeds for ground-based turbolasers ripped out of the prefabricated base assemblies carried by all Star Destroyers, and installed them by wielding the ground turbolaser turrets onto the hull in any place where they thought the structure could handle the stress. Necessary piercings for the power feeds were simply blasted into the bulkheads, and then sealed to prevent a catastrophic emergency decompression in those areas by filling the piercings, after the power feeds had been drawn through them, with a plug of ferrocrete.

All repair personnel and all ships' crewers were working eighteen hour shifts. Where more bodies were needed, they were provided by the crews of undamaged vessels. Droids were worked unceasingly, any that could be remotely programmed to perform repair functions. Due to the lack of available transport assets, many droids were simply tied to large cargo pallets which were flung from one undamaged ship to a damaged one by tractor beams and then immediately put to unceasingly work. Because of the lack of sleep by everyone involved in the efforts and the great strain of the work, the number of industrial accidents were many, including fatalities. But this was treated as a battle; safety was irrelevant, speed was everything.

On the Tonnant the bulk of the professional workers were shipyard men who'd been trained in the Milky Way and originally worked at the Federation Antares Shipyards and were organized in the Dockyards & Ship Labourers Local 515. They were being asked to make a ship which would require two months of dockyard time combat ready at 90% combat systems functionality within six days. They went at it with a particular pride of craftsmen ordered to do an impossible job, in an impossible period of time, and they were close to making it. They only had thirty hours left until the deadline and they were actually two hours ahead of schedule at the moment, without having suffered a single fatality to their own workers yet. It was ugly work, hardly the sort of job you'd want to do normally, not clean, not to spec, nothing, just grab a piece of armour and slap it into place, or pump ferrocrete into a shattered compartment which might still hold the charred remains of bodies. But it was the job, and they were going to finish it.

Most of them probably didn't give a damn about the war, and many, despite the bonuses, were probably angry at having to leave their homes and end up so close to a dangerous combat zone. Now, though, it didn't matter; certainly the overtime they were being paid continuously helped, but there was simply a pride in the unified action which drove them on. How could they not be pleased at the results of their effort, taking that blackened behemoth larger than a city and restoring her to life in under a week? It was just one of the countless examples of workers from every part of two galaxies who were thrust in to work side by side with the military personnel and the tireless droids, and came out doing splendidly, and they were the people responsible for making hundreds or thousands of ships ready to fight again, and bringing new, unfinished ships just arrived up to sufficient operational capacity that they could be sent into battle. And it was not just happening here. At the yards, many ships were still being finished, worked on as quickly as they could, and there was a real hope that some of them might be ready to rendezvous with the fleet shortly before it arrived at its destination.

The destination was rather familiar to the Imperial officers. It was, of course, Coruscant. Even now Pellaeon was monitoring reports from the surface which were still getting through. Hamner had used his Torpedo Spheres to blast down the planetary shields which had been reestablished and had landed significant numbers of conscript troops. The people of the planet, loyal to their saviour, fought back vigorously, and the Imperial forces left as a garrison boosted that national resistance, such that there was a very tough fight on the surface. But the fleet in orbit only grew and grew, which meant that there was no hope for anything except a naval battle. The question was how soon, and on this, Sule had been adamant to strike quickly. It was a position on which his staff tested him, but he remained firm. Now with scarcely more than twenty-four hours to go, the final plans were being made.

Sule, Martina, Pellaeon, Elise, the director of the Ubiqtorate. This was the last meeting, containing only the officers and personnel of the highest rank, the real decision makers of the Empire, of which Martina was counted as one in reality even if not in title. There was no need for the worries of the underlings, now, they just had to face the facts of the situation and go ahead and deal with them. They had crushed one enemy, and immediately another had presented itself. Fighting on two fronts across a whole galaxy would have to be the accepted price of the decisions that they had already made.

“Well, we know that Hamner and his coalition have mustered close to thirty thousand ships at Coruscant. The surface of the planet is soon to fall to his armed forces, and he is exerting every effort to improve the strength of the defences which he seized, and repair those damaged during his coup de main, Your Majesty,” Pellaeon continued in a calm but grim tone. “We shall be very lucky if we are even able to put together a fleet of close to twenty-four thousand ships by the time we confront him. Our losses were very severe at Dantooine, even if the were arguably worth the magnitude of the victory that we gained. In short, Your Majesty, we shall be going into battle again badly outnumbered.

“Our primary advantage is in firepower. We shall have at least parity with Hamner's fleet and possibly a minor margin of superiourity over it in terms of output. This, of course, assumes that the Tonnant is able to rejoin the fleet; even as damaged as she is her batteries are a not insignificant fraction of our total fighting strength, despite the complete loss of her hangar bays. I am reluctant to force battle, Your Majesty, but I will not again advise you against it—there is a sufficient chance of victory that I would adjudge the decision to attack or delay to be your's alone. If you maintain your course of pressing home rapidly, the fleet will be with it, and it will not have a hopeless task on its hands.”

“I do intend to proceed, Grand Admiral Pellaeon. There is nothing to be gained by letting Coruscant fall to Hamner's troops and the blow to our prestige and the unity of the nation which would result. The gallant stand of the people of Coruscant for the past five days is a great unifying symbol of support for me. If they are allowed to fall without the aide of my fleet it would seem as though I had betrayed my staunchest supporters,” Sule answered, his tone equally grim to Pellaeon's. “Grand Admiral, I understand the doubts over the past days, the efforts which have been made to dissuage me from my chosen course of action. But I cannot abide by them. We will see nothing good come out of the abandonment of Coruscant for our cause. To relieve Coruscant will be to uphold the popular trust in me—the belief that my subjects have guaranteed security—and guarantee the revival of the Empire. To fail is to simply promote continued factional strife even if Hamner is ultimately defeated.”

“Your Majesty, I will not dispute your political analysis of the situation and what it mandates. I just mean to make clear that there will be a real uncertainty in the upcoming engagement. The danger of defeat is quite present, and I merely regret that the political situation forces our hand.”

“It's a valid regret, spoken to a man who has seen it in his own career on the field,” Sule replied with a gentle rebuke, half-veiled, at most. “But War has always been linked to the political, and we who decide to transfer between those two spheres of public life must recognize that, and even stop to regret it, for such has always been the case and surely always will be the case. Now it is our place but to endure the reality of the situation and make the best of it.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Sule turned his attention to Elise, and smiled warmly at her restored sense of presence, collected and alive-seeming once again. “Elise,” he said, most informally, “What's the status of the repair efforts on the fleet?”

“Miraculous,” Grand Admiral Kalar-Leben replied. “There's no other way to put the progress that we've had. There will not be any damaged ships that we're leaving behind. We're getting them all safe for combat action in one way or another. Not, hardly, up to full combat readiness, but enough so that they can fight and be worth their weight in a fight, instead of just holding the fleet back. The repair crews have been allowed to innovate in every way possible to improve repair times, and combined with a lot of sweat and hard work and lack of sleep, we've managed to do it. Some ships will actually be finished ahead of schedule, and though I would ask for a six hour delay to finish some of the rendezvous preparations on the ships that are being finished up at Kuat, Bilbringi, and the Remnant yards, among others, I can't think of a reason to delay our efforts further than that.”

“A six hour delay is something I could live with,” Sule said after a moment of thought, charitably. “Very well then. What are we going to do with the repair crews?”

“Some of them we'll try to get off in time, for the others.. Well, there are going to be a great number of civilian repair personnel who are going to have little choice except to go into battle with the fleet. They can be organized under Naval officers and kept ready for damage control. To quiet any murmurings I suggest offering ten thousand credit bonuses for all of those forced to stay.”

“Done.” Money was the lubricant of war, and though it might soon become a problem if they didn't win back Coruscant, for the moment there was enough of it for such expenditures, particularly when the issue at hand was one that they hoped to have settled decisively, by a single great clash, in less than a week. That damaged maximum output of all resources toward a favourable decision, nothing more, nothing less, and this was what Sule was now doing.

“Alright then. That just leaves the matter of starfighters. We're producing a lot more of them than we are capacity for starfighters in the fleet, especially with bay damage to the Tonnant, which of course means the loss of thousands of fighters for the fleet right there. But many of the starfighter designs we're having built have hyperdrives, and I've prepared orders for a rendezvous of the hyperdrive equipped fighters with the fleet for the attack on Coruscant; we may have as many as eight or nine hundred thousand such starfighters moving in with the fleet in addition to those in our bays. They'll suffer initially, and it will strain our support capacity to cycle them through the hangars in addition to the onboard capacity starfighters, but that is not an inconsiderable resource right there.”

“Good. Are there any problems with that?”

“Just one. Most of the pilots are reservists, or outright retired, that we've managed to put together. They have experience, though possibly not with the particular types they'll be flying now, but we they've also essentially been promised their pay without getting it, and in fact the terms of their service are nebulous. I recommend a bonus for them as well.” Elise paused, and then added. “In fact, I suggest that we offer a bounty for any armed ship which arrives at the rendezvous point for the remaining fleet elements ready to fight. We can issue an Imperial Rescript providing them with blanket Letters of Marque in case of capture, and it scarcely matters if Hamner knows the concentration point—we would actually gain an advantage from him trying to ambush us there, away from the fixed defences and minefields he's establishing at Coruscant.”

“I don't have a problem with that either, Your Majesty,” Pellaeon interjected, his aged face managing a wane smile. “Elise is right. Hamner would be giving us a better chance if he was waiting for us at the concentration point. We already have stealthed frigates there to report on any arrival of enemy forces, so there is no danger of an actual tactical ambush, and doing battle away from the defences would noticeably reduce the efficacy of the lighter ships of his fleet against our heavies. If we can pick up a few hundred armed vessels by publishing the concentration point I don't think there's any risk in it, and we will gain at least those ships if nothing else.”

“It will be done,” Sule nodded in the affirmative. “If you're both in agreement on that, then, it's clearly not so much of a risk as the actual action of pressing home a battle right now, and so I see little reason to hold back. Martina?”

Martina Tienyz was unusually silent since the great battle of Dantooine, and from her expressions and mannerisms, Elise had been wondering about something, but held her tongue as well. Now, though, Martina smiled and nodded once to her husband. “No, I have no objections.”

A nod followed from the Ubiqtorate Director.

“Very well then. Our final course of action is set. The fleet leaves Ord Mantell for Coruscant in thirty-five hours. Admirals, begin the final necessary preparations.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty.”

I want this finished! Sule thought, sick of the mass bloodshed of the past months, the betrayal and the infighting. It was time to force one decisive encounter to settle the issue of the galaxy, and his own reign, once and for all, and thankfully in that Hamner appeared to be obliging. If he is not, we shall force him to be.


Vong occupied space
System TRI-4565321


It was a dead system, containing a few lifeless planets and a couple gas giants, and many more comets. It was the perfect place for a rendezvous, and that was what took place there, as Jaina brought the bio-ship alongside Miat Temm's Stealthship as piloted by Han. She had been deathly quiet the whole while, and did speak to Jacen; her grief was a private thing, and private did it remain.

As they established the uncertain connection between living and metallic ships, Han was the first to cross it, and sighted his son at the other end of the airlock set. It was a miracle brought to life, wonderful, lovely, perfection in every way. It was his son, battered and aged and having suffered greatly, but still alive. That he could never forget Anakin, still, his eldest son was alive and in it he found a surge of hope back within himself. The elder Solo embraced the younger.

Jaina stood back, watching, silent. She felt distant from this place, from her father, but she was still pleased at having rescued her brother, at having engineered this reunion. It would make up for what she was going to do, to an extent, to her thoughts which were upon Miat, as she had promised, more than anyone else, and the increasing feeling of lonely distance from the world around her.

Her father at last noticed her, indeed, it seemed somewhat spurred by Jacen at last stepping back and speaking softly. “Father, I.. Well, I doubted I'd ever see you again.”

“I had my doubts, too, Jacen.” Han swallowed. “Lots of them. But it worked out in the end.” He looked over to Jaina, then.

“Hi, Dad.” A wry smile, she searched for something to say, and in the end managed some of her own flippancy. “I told you it would work.”

Han laughed. “Never has a parent been happier to have been upstaged by their daughter!” He exclaimed, and then, in a lower voice: “Where's Miat Temm?”

Jacen spoke before his sister could, mercifully. “She died. Overlord Shimmra had this sort of force-mad jester. After she struck Shimmra down.. Well, he fried her with force lightning. Then Jaina..”

“Killed him,” she said coldly. “He stabbed her back after her duel with Shimmra, and didn't deserve anything else.”

“I won't disagree,” Jacen amended. “And, no, Dad, I'm not sure if it was the jester's death or Miat's which caused the force storm. But what I do know is that it happened, and five Worldships were destroyed.”

“Yeah, I saw that too,” Han nodded, almost somewhat relieved to be away of the awkwardness with his daughter, and perhaps normal in his behaviour only from the shock at having his son back. “I guess that pretty much finishes the Vong. From what we know of them, they'll have a civil war over who shall take control of their government now, and they've been completely crippled in their fleet, and now just lost a significant chunk of their population, too. Something which couldn't have happened to better people..”

“Well, they were still people,” Jacen started.. And then shrugged tiredly. “Though I'm sure Jaina might debate that. Their lack of the force does raise questions..”

“And it doesn't matter anyway. We didn't cause it, and the Vong had it coming. Thus is war,” Jaina said, cooly.

“That's true,” Han agreed after a moment, when he realized that Jacen seemed to accept Jaina's words and didn't presume to quarrel over them. “And, well, it's in the past now.” He paused for a long silence, and then added. “Well, I guess I regret having treated Miat Temm with all that suspicion. It all worked out in the end, after all.. Except for her. Another toast to be raised, when we get back home.”

“She never minded, Dad,” Jaina answered softly. “After all, she could only expect as much, behaving as she did around someone who had the experiences you've had in the past decades, and natural wariness. She said as much to me, so don't feel guilty about it or another.”

“I won't.” A moment later: “So. Are you going to junk this overgrown asteroid..?”

“No. I'm taking it somewhere, Dad. After I.. After I get some things of Miat Temm's off the stealthship. But first, I need to ask a favour of you and Jacen.”

“Shoot.”

“I want you to go to Coruscant and get mother out of the Republican fleet there. It.. Well, it really needs to happen, Dad. Something very unfortunate could happen if you don't convince her to leave. Or take her by force, if absolutely necessary.”

“Those are some strong words,” Han said after a moment, and then looked back to his son. “What do you say about this, Jacen? Can you feel whatever,” a gesture to Jaina, “She feels about this issue?”

“Well, there's a grave risk of death for mother. We've been monitoring the general broadcasts, I'm sure you have, too. I.. I do think that Coruscant is a place she shouldn't be right now. There are decisions which are going to happen there which could have consequences she's not prepared for.”

Han sighed, and shook his head. “Well, alright then.” A soft mutter: “Save one family member, then straight off to save the next.” A moment later, and louder: “Jaina, are you sure about not coming with us and all?”

“Absolutely, Dad. I have to go take care of some business... Pay a debt to someone, and do something which needs to be done for the sake of the galaxy.”

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

“Then can you at least tell us where you're going, Jaina?” Han asked, faintly exasperated out of worry if nothing else.

“To talk to Baron Fel,” Jaina replied, and began to turn away to go retrieve Miat's things from the Stealthship.

“Wait!” Han strode forward and held out his arms for his daughter.

Reluctantly, Jaina turned back, and smiled rather sadly as she allowed herself to be embraced. A wane look touched her fast, and she spoke, quietly: “Thanks, Dad.” The hug was held for a moment, and then she stepped back and headed into the Stealthship. It didn't take her more than fifteen minutes or so.

Jacen and Han were waiting for her at the airlock when she returned, her own and Miat's possessions stuffed into two duffle bags; she had nothing else now, save for the Vong ship, and didn't need it, either. “Well, Dad, Jacen, I guess this is where we say goodbye.”

“Yes, it is,” Jacen replied in a quiet voice, feeling the tension of the moment, and also the sadness.

“For a while, anyway. You'll be back to us in a few weeks, after all,” Han spoke in a rather more jaunty voice, as of old, then.

“True enough,” Jaina acknowledged, not adding what else came to her thoughts. I will be back, at least to speak to mother.. But I'm not sure for how long.

“Good. Take care of yourself, Jaina,” Han said simply. “Though I guess Jagged's dad isn't the most dangerous Imp to visit—just be careful, come in flying that contraption, that you get the recognition codes right.” He chuckled, and hugged his daughter again before he allowed Jaina to drift away from him.

“May the Force be with you, sis,” Jacen said, and smiled a wane smile of his own.

Jaina nodded tightly at Jacen's words, not speaking in mention of Jagged Fel's name, and the turned to the airlock and headed through it into the Vong ship.

Father and son headed one way, onto their own paths, and Jaina the other, onto her own path. She manipulated the breaking of the docking seal the moment it was safe, and then headed up for the control center of what was, in Vong terms, essentially an equivalent of an Escort Shuttle.

She took her time in preparing to leave. There were many things that she wished to contemplate, now that her father and her brother had reluctantly left on the task to which she had given them. There were things which, alone, she had to think of. But first, duty. Up to the bridge of the confusing biological craft. An inanity passed her mind—ships like this might soon be so rare that the wealthy would buy and preserve them as relics, half dreaded, half admired. But that didn't matter now. Perhaps that was precisely why she had thought of it.

Jaina settled down onto the bridge, inputing the course had she had learned those months before. She was going, of course, to the Hand. It was not for a reason she could really fully rationalize, or justify, but there was a trace of guilt in her having taken this course and dragged Jagged Fel and Shawnkyr along with her; she owed something to them, and their help. But it was not just to free one's self of a debt to wider society, justifiable in itself, that she went. She was going to insure that the final piece of the puzzle came together—that the galactic government of the future would understand its role in the scheme of things just like the Orders would have to understand their's.

The key to the success of the orders would be that they must abstain from the political affairs of the galaxy. The Error of the Jedi had been that they had gotten involved in politics, and in doing so, they had gained the desires of politicians, to protect their turf, to grasp onto their power tightly and never let it go. They had strangled out all competing schools, and in doing so guaranteed that those strong in the powers of the force but disagreeing with their ideology were given nowhere to turn, and in the end could avail themselves only of the perverted madness of the Dark Jedi. In this had they sown the seeds of their own destruction.

Now the galaxy had been cleansed of these errors in fire and blood. The Jedi error was gone; the Sith error was in the process of being destroyed. And when it is finished here, we must also think of a government which will travel back from whence the Vong came, and crush it out there as well, Jaina realized. That was the last piece she needed, really. There had to be a group in charge who would see to it that the error wasn't just driven out of the galaxy, but stamped from the whole wider universe as well, that there was nothing left of it anywhere. She must set in motion the final execution of the imbalance, the destruction of tens of thousands of years of errors built onto each other, evils created from evils growing in turn. That required a distasteful thing, but one she was not unwilling to do. It was the only sure way, and so it would be done.

The course was put in. It was settled upon, and after a last moment's reflection of this dead system, which she had never seen before and would never see again, she activated the hyperdrive of the Vong ship and raced into the mottled reality of hyperspace, into her course for destiny at the Hand. Her mind was not on it, though, it instead turned to the events which had happened on the Vong Worldship, to the things she had said and felt. Uncomfortable things, which had burned hot and then died swiftly with Miat Temm. They might not ever come back to her, for they were wrapped up entirely in that enigmatic character... And for all that her path was now firmly set, it was also unsettled. Jaina knew that she would have to work her way through many doubts.

But I will keep my heart open, and if she returns, then half of them of them will be wiped away. Jaina wiped a few traces of tears from her eyes and smiled wanely. So it would have to be.

Outside, the galaxy was abroil in war, but a different kind of war. The two competing forces could understand each other, and fought fundamentally for the same thing. Political power. Neither side would be denied it, and so they would meet on the field.

It was a war cleaner than the senseless mad savagery of the abominate Vong. But it would end up just as deadly to those who fought in it, if perhaps glossed in more of a shine of honour. The clash which would decide it was not long off, and so Jaina made haste.


CINCF Flagship
Torpedo Sphere Ulaumai,
In orbit of Imperial Centre


Fires burned on the surface of Coruscant once more. The lights all across the planet were shut down, and there was nothing to be seen of the great and batered Coruscating Gem of the Galaxy, save for those fires, when Rano Inaras looked down upon it. He knew that a bloody conflict was being fought there, and it was not one that showed any signs of abating any time soon. If it anything, it had grown more intense, for there was some very bad news in the air. Sule was coming with his fleet, and he had made his intent public.

A glance showed the holonet communication which had gone out, also relayed countless times through subspace:


Citizens of the Galaxy!

Our national capital is once again besieged and threatened by treacherous forces. Rebels against my authority have combined, and made war upon the capital, and landed troops upon it. They have done this as a stab-in-the-back to the cause of national unity against the Vong threat. But I, loyal to the cause of national unity, ignored this grave threat until I had crushed the Vong fleet in main force battle over Dantooine. There is no threat from the Vong remaining.

Unfortunately, the conflicts of the galaxy are not over. Central order must be maintained, and it is against central order that these rebels have struck—they are the new Seperatists! Hamner Davion, proclaiming himself Galactic Emperor, is nonetheless engaging in a course which has made promises of independence to many peoples, instead of fighting to uphold galactic unity, and with it the prosperity and safety of our civilization from an endless plague of devastating wars.

I now strike with every weapon in my arsenal to save the galaxy from this fate. My fleet will make war upon that of the Seperatists, and by the blessing of Fortune shall we have our victory. No effort will be spared in making it come about, and in doing so providing the people of the galaxy with what they simultaneously need and desire: Peace!

Since this is the desire of every living being who has suffered through the strife which has now lasted for nearly a century in our galaxy, I ask you all to make my cause your's, for they are one in the same and it is only the Seperatist-sympathizer who presumes to suggest otherwise. Attached to this transmission are the necessary coordinates for a rendezvous my fleet will be making with other loyalist fleet elements. This is proof that, firstly, I have absolutely no fear of the enemy who is Hamner Davion and his reproachable 'allies', all desiring independence. Let them come on—we shall show them off!

But secondly it is an invitation for the galaxy as a whole. Come, I say, and fight alongside me and my fleet! If you have armed ships, take them, and arrive at these coordinates, and we shall provide you with an Imperial Rescript detailing your rights under Letters of Marque from my person. You have nothing to fear from participating in the general combat, and the peace of the galaxy to gain—a quicker and more bloodless peace, the greater the preponderence of firepower which we can concentrate against the enemy! I do not desire to have a dubious struggle out of this, but to make a single, decisive blow with swuch overwhelming strength as that the forces of the Seperatists are crushed outright before us by such a mass of strength that they cannot effectually resist.

We shall fight together, Emperor and Citizen, because I am but the representative of your Will, and I desire nothing else than to see your wishes met. The wars of the galaxy shall end here—at Coruscant we shall direct our strength, and I will see to it that after this one battle we do not need another. There will be no protracted war. I am putting my effort and my life up to the challenge, and intend to succeed and end this affair; failure is not an option; there is no contingency plan here, just the watchword—Victory!

As always, if you join my fleet, you may expect to see my flagship in the front rank. I do not shirke from doing battle with the enemy, as some rulers do, and I am willing to put my own life on the line for the desires of my people, for the desires of the galaxy's people. Fight by side, and by it gain at last a final peace for the sake of your children, and your heirs who shall follow them! This is the price and the sacrifice we must make for that peace, one last great struggle, and those who join me in it will be remembered forever as those who brought the galaxy renewed happiness and prosperity after so many years of chaos.

I know that your will has spoken. Now I shall enact it. There is nothing for me to do but put my fleet to the test, and exert my utmost to see that I have brought to you what our shattered celestial lands desire. There shall be peace for the galaxy, and it comes by the strike of my fleet—we shall have it through no other way than victory!


Rano was not sure if he was pleased or worried. On one hand, it was ideal, the enemy was charging right ahead into your fixed defences. On the other hand, the solidity of those defences, the firmness with which they might be held, was very much in question. The Hutt forces were unreliable at best, Guri—whoever the hell she was, some kind of advisor of the late Tranjak-sar's, no doubt, who had seized effective power by bribery and blackmail after the sunder--was clearly intent on preserving as much of her fleet strength as she could, for obvious reasons. And of course the Republican forces were under the command Admiral Ackbar, whom Rano had to grudgingly admit was a better commander than he was. The problem being that it left an entirely discombobulated chain of command which effectively left power in the hands of Hamner Davion and Princess Organa, neither of whom had particularly much experience in directing large fleets, though perhaps they would at least manage to properly resolve the chain of command disputes which would inevitably erupt even during the conflict.

On the other hand, the defences they were building up were very extensive indeed, certainly rivalling those that Sule had arranged for Third Coruscant. A circuit of the defence lines would show hundreds of millions of mines, and more were constantly being laid. There were also prefabricated defensive fortresses, and every available space facility was being utilized to house additional fighters which were shipped in to boost the numbers of the fleet. Prefabricated garrison bases were also being deployed to occupied sectors of the planet so that their turbolasers could be used to boost the firepower of the fleet from the surface, if necessary, and in this they were aided by any other sort of surface-based weapon which could be obtained and emplaced.

The primary danger there was that, of course, the surface of the planet was not yet secure. There were many areas still entirely in the hands of the population and the loyalist troops, who were fighting hard to make the conquest of Coruscant as difficult as possible. And now this message, which the fleet could hardly succeed in getting through to the people of the surface, had caused them to redouble their efforts at resistance, hoping that soon their relief would arrive from space, their Emperor and Saviour coming once more to repeat his efforts on their behalf, to chastise those who had torn through the peace of Coruscant just months have the horrors had begun, when the refugees had just started to return.

Rano noticed someone approaching. He turned, and then bowed low. “Your Majesty. Welcome. What may I do for you at the moment?”

“We desire a progress report on the status of the defences.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Rano turned back to the console he'd be looking over the message at—Hamner saw it and frowned slightly, though he was already quite aware of it even so—and then Rano replaced it with a holographic projection, on the main projector of the bridge, showing Coruscant and the rings of defences around it.

“As you can see, Your Majesty, we are nearly complete. Everything will be finished by the time that the projected arrival of Sule's fleet is at hand. Indeed, because of the delays he plans to try and gather as many supporters together as he can, we should able to reinforce particular spots which at the moment are acceptable, but not ideal, in terms of the strength of the defences. The Torpedo Spheres are, as you can see, positioned to provide support for the outer line of defences, and the Republican heavy ships are concentrated to repulse a concerted attack. The most grave issue is that the planetary surface batteries are very uneven due to the continued resistance in certain areas. So the enemy can avoid fire from the planetary batteries over certain portions of the planet, and they are likely to know which of those areas to attack at due to communications with the surface which will probably be unable to stop.”

“We trust that you've reinforced those areas of the defences appropriately, Grand Admiral?”

“To some extend, Your Majesty. But I do not desire to have an even defensive perimeter, just one that looks that way. If the enemy can punch through in a spot or two, so much the better—we might well be able to counterattack from the flanks and cut off a portion of their fleet. That could give us a sufficient advantage to make a counterattack.”

“We have no desire to risk our position with a counterattack.”

“Your Majesty, please, but a moment for me to explain,” Inaras said, dipping his head submissively. “You see, if we can destroy a heavy striking portion of their fleet, we shall have them at not just a preponderence of numbers, but also a minor—but very real—advantage of firepower in the fleet alone. At the moment we do not have that, but we're close enough to it that if we can destroy a segment of their main body without great loss, we shall be able to undertake offensive operations with a serious expectation of tactical victory here.

“That would be worse than anything else for Sule. If his fleet is crushed in this military engagement, he has nothing. We just need to hold Coruscant—he needs to take it, or at the least, when failing, have the bulk of his fleet intact. This is a much more difficult task, and if we can shatter his fleet, well, it's over for him. The main problem is of course the level of risk, which is why I don't advise it unless we can succeed in cutting off a portion of the fleet and destroying it, but if we do, it is certainly not only possible but logical to counterattack.”

“The logic is sound, but if we overextend ourselves and this fleet is defeated by Sule's forces, we will never get it back. Even if we retreat in good order ourselves, the alliances we have formed for this battle will be shattered, and not even the greatest of Harlann's efforts shall secure them. Thus, the decision to counterattack will be Our's alone, Grand Admiral, and do not forget that.”

“I will not, Your Majesty,” Rano replied, bowing again even as he stiffened inside at the mention of Harlann Quir. Still, he mastered it, and asked a moment later: “Beg Pardon, Your Majesty, but do you think the situation on the surface will improve enough that a more equitable placement of surface defensive cannon can be achieved before the projected arrival of the enemy fleet?”

“It is unlikely,” Hamner snapped back. “You will just have to plan on the assumption that no more territory is secured on the surface.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Rano replied hastily.

“Very good, then. We shall be leaving now to attend to matters on the planet.” Saying nothing more, Hamner Davion turned away, grimly aware that the situation on the surface was nothing like he had expected, or hoped for. But all the problems that it would cause were, ultimately, not fatal ones. Maybe even, as Rano had pointed out, they would turn out to the advantage of his cause. Still, the were problems, and they had to be dealt with. That, and they provide a pleasant enough distraction from the impending arrival of Sule's fleet, Hamner mused as he left.


Imperial-Chiss Condominion
In Orbit of the Hand


Jagged Fel and Shawnkyr were very near to awed, even if Shawnkyr herself did not show it at all. Before them was the greatest fleet of the Condominion that they had ever seen. It was mustered in countless ranks, some eight thousand strong. It was all the old might that Thrawn had arranged to be sent out here, and it was surely impressive—there were not less than 5,550 destroyer-rate ships in the force. Close to fifty ISD-III types, with special accomadations for extensive fleet command stations, just like the old Chimaera, formed the largest ships of the fleet. After them, however, were the sorts of ships which, though old, were very much serviceable—they had been in service in many cases for a decade at most, then mothballed for two decades, and now in service here for a quarter of a century at most.

There were fifty-five hundred Venator-class Star Destroyers mustered here, all of them nearly twelve hundred meters in length, the ships which had fought the Seperatists in the grand conflict which had been the foundation of the Empire. By modern standards they were woefully underarmed for their size, but they were well protected and well armoured, and each of the ships, moreover, had a capacity of four hundred starfighters. This meant that the Venators alone of the fleet held two million, two hundred thousand starfighters altogether. And that was where the Chiss contribution to the Condominion came in—all of those were front rate starfighters based on collaboration between Chiss and Imperial engineers, combining the elements, like Jag Fel and Shawnkyr's attack craft, of the best of Chiss and Imperial engineering, of the TIE Defender and the larger Chiss attack boats. They were manned almost entirely by Chiss pilots, even though there were no Chiss capital ships in the ranks of the Starfleet, they made up for it with their contribution in starfighters and in personnel.

There was more to the fleet, of course. One hundred and fifty Dreadnought-class heavy frigates (or patrol cruisers), six hundred Strike-class frigates; an equal number of Corellian Corvettes of the Imperial battle-ready escort design; three hundred each Nebulon-B and Nebulon-B II frigates; two hundred and fifty each of the Lancer-class escort frigates and the Interdictor gravwell frigates of the 600 meter variant. In total the starfighters carried by these additional support elements of the fleet, and the ISD-IIIs of the commanding Admirals, brought the starfighter strength up by another hundred thousand. It was no mean assemblage of firepower, but it existed now without a target, for it had been mustered to fight the Vong, to strike home against them at last, when the local enemies had been dealt with, the recruits trained, these old reserve ships brought out of storage here in the Condominion where they had been sent by Thrawn, and prepared for the long-awaited war.

But by the time the mailed fist of their countrstrike had been ready, there was no longer a threat, and it was the job of Jag Fel and Shawnkyr to inform to the elder Fel this fact, which seemed to speak almost of the wasted utility of having assembled the fleet. But not quite. Jag Fel had, in his months in the galaxy at large, formulated certain opinions about the contest for the Empire, and as he saw this fleet and realized it had no purpose, it occurred to him that it might well hold the balance of power for the fate of the whole galaxy, that at long last it could insure peace and stability, even as the Venators had been built for that purpose so long ago.

Their ships cleared all the necessary codes and entry querries, and they were soon given top priority to approach the flagship of Baron Fel. The comptroller of fleet approach switched them over to the docking clearance director on the Victrix, Baron Fel's flagship, and they were guided in by tractor beams to the forward shuttle bay, as the main bays were already stuffed to the gills with similar fighters. Immediately an officer of Baron Fel's staff met them and ordered them to prepare to report to the Baron even as he directed a team to download and transfer the contents of their logs and databooks on the two fighters. The meeting was in thirty minutes; it gave them just enough time to go to the pilot showers, dry off, and find sets of dress uniforms for the meeting.

The room they entered thirty minutes later was almost entirely empty as they came to attention and saluted. Elder Fel looked to young severely, and then nodded. “Sit down, my intrepid scouts.” There were two others in the room, a severe looking short-haired Chiss woman in the uniform of a Vice Admiral of the Imperial Starfleet, an a pugnacious looking human man who appeared to be in his early sixties and was wearing the identifying uniform of a high-ranking member of the Ubiqtorate. Jag Fel had seen both before, but never in this sort of circumstance, and Shawnkyr never had at all.

This, then, was as small as Baron Fel could pare his staff down to when he needed, and essentially it consisted of the decision-makers of the Condominion. Baron Fel himself was dressed in the uniform of a Space Marshal of the Imperial Starfighter Corps. He was relieved to have his son back safe, but didn't exchange any words. That would come when business was over, not before.

“We've been reviewing your records from your starfighters exhaustively over the past twenty-five minutes or so,” Baron Fel began. “To stay that your record is exhaustive is to put it mildly, but it also seems to suggest that the Warlord Sule has effectively crushed the Vong forces—which we were receiving reports of—while, on the other hand, the Jedi have succeeded in taking out some central aspects of the Vong governing regime. What sort of effect do you think it will have on them? It's unclear how that situation ended from your records, we have communications transcripts saying that the raid on the Worldship was successful, but do you have anymore evidence than that?”

“No, Sir,” Jag Fel replied, speaking for the two of them. “We were ordered to bug out by General Solo following our diversionary operation, and that was that. Of course, we first sent a message, as per those instructions, to Sule's fleet regarding the disposition of certain Vong reinforcements which had left the system before our raid. From what we picked up by monitoring communications on our way out, a battle was fought at Dantooine which resulted in a crushing victory for the Imperial Starfleet.”

“A Imperial Starfleet,” Baron Fel grunted. “We have not decided to acknowledge the legitimacy of Sule's regime in any sense, young man, and please do remember that. I know that you fought in support of his forces and his allies on several occasions, but that alone isn't going to dictate our policy. At any rate, do you agree with the analysis that the Vong have suffered significant reverses?”

“Absolutely,” Jag said, taking the rebuke with a patience he didn't really feel. “Indeed, I would go so far as to say that their main fighting power has been decisively crippled and it's quite possible that their civilian population has suffered heavily as well. I don't think they're a factor in the galaxy anymore.”

“Lieutenant Shawnkyr?”

“I agree with the squadron leader's assessment,” she said simply.

“Very well, then.”

“The assessment may, however, be disputed,” the Chiss Vice Admiral began, then, casting a respectful if cool look to Baron Fel. “Some of the most critical evidence they have provided us is only circumstantial, from communications records, and may well be falsified by the senders for security or strategic reasons, or simply propaganda.”

“That is so,” Baron Fel answered. “Though it is clear that the Vong are militarily defeated at least to the point that the Warlord Sule feels comfortable with launching an assault on Imperial Centre in the developing conflict over galactic control with the Warlord Davion. At any rate, all of this information suggests that we should wait and conduct more reconaissance to see if a general offensive against the core of the remaining Vong holdings is called for in this circumstance, or if instead the Vong have been sufficiently crushed that we should resume the husbanding of our strength.”

“For what, Your Lordship?” Jag asked of his father. “We now have a fleet of more than eight thousand ships mustered, and millions of starfighters. Everything I have reported upon suggests that the Vong are crushed—that the invasion forces of the Milky Way that the Grand Admiral sent forth so long ago have come back and done the job we were intended for. Now we have this reserve force in the galaxy, and is it not time that our thoughts turn inward to the use of it in insuring the reestablishment of Peace and Order? Is that not now our duty as Imperial officers?”

“It may be. But we do not really know which side to support. We should wait and see which of the Imperial factions comes out victorious and then decide which one to align with,” the Chiss Vice Admiral—The Baron Fel's Chief of Staff—spoke for him then. “If we align with one at all. They will have to be evaluated closely for legitimacy.”

“Legitimacy has come to rest with the people, now, and Sule unreservedly has their support. If the Empire is to be restored at all, it must not fall upon the lines of succession, but rather with a generally popular Emperor, and that means we must support Sule fully,” Jag Fel pressed.

“Silence! That is not a decision I am prepared to make now, young man,” Baron Fel spoke sternly to his son. “You are not in a position to dictate policy, no matter the successes and adventures you have been on during the past months. We will await the development of events before deciding on our course of action, and that is final.”

“Very well, Sir. I apologize for my presumptiousness,” Jag replied softly.

“The apology is accepted. You're both dismissed.”

As they left, Jag's thoughts were on Jaina, and he wondered what she was doing now.. And if she had even survived her reckless mission to the Vong Worldship. It was a bitter thought, and he almost wished that he had not returned home.




De Imperatoribus Galacticis will be continued in Chapter the Twenty-Fifth

[Steve]

Excellent as always.