The Imperial Resurgence

[JediMaster415]

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, although I'm sure as hell going to try in the future.

Summary:
Peace has settled over the galaxy. The Imperial Remnant has pulled within itself, settling with what they have. But on the ashes of the Empire, a new enemy rises up. Its goal is to "save the galaxy from the evil grasp of the New Republic."
Halkir Novar was a simple pirate, content with raiding Resurgence convoys. After catching an encoded message from several contacts, he plans one of his most dangerous raids to date. The only question he has is: can he pull it off or will he die? And will it be worth it, either way? He has no idea that it will take his life down a path he never expected.

Author's Notes:
I've been toying with this story idea for a long time. Getting it to work has always eluded me until now. If it doesn't, please tell me why. Please read, review and be honest. I'm an aspiring author who hopes to, one day, be a best-selling author.
I plan for this to take the place of the New Jedi Order. The Yuuzhan Vong does not exist in the universe at all. This is twenty-seven years after the Battle of Yavin, making Jacen and Jaina eighteen.
I'm an avid scholar of Star Wars. There isn't much I don't know about that universe so there are very few chances I'll make a mistake but if I do, please tell me. I'll correct them if there are any mistakes.
I have been writing this story for two or three years and constantly revising so it is nowhere near perfect. I'm posting it here for constructive criticism.

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The Imperial Resurgence
Prologue

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Standing at the bridge’s main viewport, Admiral Treves Qwynn observed the black abyss of space with all of its faceless inhabitants. He was a tall, lean figure with noble features and a proud air about him. His broad shoulders and grave expression was enough to have his subordinates comparing him to Lord Vader. There were times he wished he could utilize the Force as Vader once had, if only to further motivate his people.
The scarred white dagger of his ship reminded him of too many close calls, too many defeats and far too many compromises. The ship was one of the oldest Star Destroyers in existence, having been constructed by Kuat Drive Yards not long after the original Imperator-class Star Destroyer. The ship had lived its entire military career on the Outer Rim, fighting pirates and tracking criminals. Each and every one of its commanding officers had upheld the Empire’s laws in battle until lawlessness finally took their lives. Even now, long after the death of its cause, its mission continued. He made sure of that.
Nine years ago, he, a mere Capitan, had been fighting on the front lines for the Imperial Remnant, trying to reestablish the Great Empire. Then Grand Admiral Pellaeon, Supreme Leader of the Imperial Fleet, had switched sides and signed a nonaggression pact with the Rebellion. Instead of being executed as the spineless traitor that he was, Pellaeon was congratulated for saving the Empire. The Moffs had lost their fire, conceding the galaxy to a bunch of criminals and outlaws.
Turning his back on the stars, Qwynn tried to force his mind off the past. Thoughts of the Grand Bastard often led to a bridge officer losing his life and he was already operating with a skeleton crew. Walking down the raised walkway, he looked down on his subordinates, gauging their progress. In their last two months on the Rim, their minds had dulled. Mistakes were becoming more common. He already had two crew members sitting in the brig for the death of four pilots. Their new leader had them all waiting for the right time to strike and it was having an effect on their reflexes. No real threats to order came near their territory anymore.
“Admiral?”
Stopping at the communications console, he looked down at the young officer manning it. Lieutenant Alix Faraerth was one of his newest crew members. The boy’s youthful face still had a lot of innocence to it. His dark eyes had always shone with a light that betrayed his inexperience. “What is it, Lieutenant?”
“We’re receiving a transmission, Admiral.” The officer’s eyes never wavered from his console. He hit a few more commands and read the screen. He seemed nervous. “For you, sir.”
Snorting, Qwynn started to move towards the next console. He had no desire to speak to some bureaucratic windbag who wanted to complain about the state of the Fleet. He’d heard enough about how the detriment of the Fleet was his fault because they had no one to fight. “Tell the dust-happy aristo to go hug a gundark. I’ve got no time for his incompetence.”
Faraerth looked back over his shoulder at the admiral, eyes wide. “I’m not too sure Lord Ruin would appreciate that, sir.”
Qwynn’s face paled and started moving quickly towards the back of the bridge. “I’ll take it in the back,” Qwynn said over his shoulder. Hoping that the cold feeling starting around his neck wasn’t Ruin using the Force to strangle him, he stood in front of the holo projector. Brushing at his tunic, he waited for the Sith Lord to appear.
He had appeared to the few loyal Imperial forces five years ago. His promises of a return to the former glory and order of the Empire had sounded hollow at first, but after he had helped to deliver a few systems into their hands, he proved that he just might be Palpatine’s Heir, as he claimed.
Instantly, an imposing, hooded figure formed in front of him. In the five years that Qwynn had personally known him, he’d never seen more than Ruin’s chin. Ruin was very secretive about himself, revealing only one very frightening detail: he was a Sith. For everyone who remembered Lord Vader, he was the perfect figurehead for their push to reclaim the galaxy.
Snapping to attention in front of the hologram, he took one last deep breath and bowed his head. “Greetings, your Excellency. What has earned us the honor of your presence?” Qwynn asked, fighting to keep his nervousness out of his voice.
“Save me the empty words, Admiral,” the hooded figure said, his voice a deep rasp. “I’ve received reports that you’ve allowed eight of our convoys to be destroyed as three more depots were raided. Explain yourself. How did this happen?” The harsh demand brooked no argument.
“It is not our fault, Lord Ruin. The truth is we have no idea who is conducting the attacks. It can not be the Reian Rebellion. We have not been informed of any of their ranks leaving the planet. Reports have all indicated that each attack has been a single man and a battle droid. We have no information on the organic. It’s impossible to track him and we’re not even sure it is a him. The organic was wearing Mandalorian armor.”
Rha’aid was easily the most infamous of the pirates the Guillotine had ever faced. He was certainly the most long-lived. The pirate had gotten away with raiding their resources for several months, long enough to earn him sector-wide enmity. Attacking from nowhere, he destroyed every weapons convoy and cache in their possession, leaving nothing but death in his wake. No one alive knew what he looked like, sounded like or even what his gender was. The only reliable reports came from security monitors. The only thing they could discern about him came from his name, the Corellian word for ‘danger’. With each appearance, their forces thinned, inviting a fight from their enemies.
“Do you think to excuse your failure by reporting of a mysterious enemy?” Ruin sneered at Qwynn. “Your name will only be clear when I have Rha’aid’s head on a pike.”
“We will eradicate the miserable gundark, my lord,” Qwynn said, straightening even further. He cleared his mind, wishing to show his honesty. “You have my word.”
“I want results, Admiral, not promises.” Ruin turned to signify that the conversation was over.
Sensing an opportunity to sate his curiosity, Qwynn gathered his courage. “My lord, if I may ask? Why was my ship sent on this mission? Our time could be better spent hunting down Rha’aid.”
“The Force sends you there and the Force does as I tell it. You will know why you are there, when your target arrives.” Ruin faded into thin air before his words had processed, leaving the Admiral staring at a bulkhead.
Sighing, Qwynn strode back onto the bridge, not revealing any of his frustration. Even his only political ally wasn’t talking. That spoke volumes about the damn mission and just how difficult it was going to end up being. This wait was going to be long and boring. He could feel it in his bones.

[Chris OFarrell]

I just have to ask.

Why is everyone so CRAZY about fanfics that have the IR somehow rise up like a phoneix from the ashes and take over the galaxy?

Ok I grant you its fair enough for people to write their own fanfics...but get over it! The Empire is gone, even if the Vong hadn't come, the IR had a snowballs chance in hell in even a limited offensive against the NR, let alone taking back the Galaxy.


Now that I've gotten that out of the way, keep writing Its no slight against you, its just that the "IR rises to rule the Galaxy" line has gotten a LITTLE old for me.

[Xon]

I just have to ask.

Why is everyone so CRAZY about fanfics that have the IR somehow rise up like a phoneix from the ashes and take over the galaxy?

It is either that or the NR gains a brain and a backbone.

I'm not to sure which is more unlikely

[Star Wars Fan]

I just have to ask.

Why is everyone so CRAZY about fanfics that have the IR somehow rise up like a phoneix from the ashes and take over the galaxy?

the Remnant isn't so bad, and it seems that the Imperials always get beat in the novels.