Star Wars: Balancing Act

[Darth Raptor]

This story is suspended indefinitely.

*****

In his tiny mud hut on Dagobah, safely hidden from the agents of evil, the last Jedi issued a sigh of resignation; it was followed by a ragged, hacking cough. He was dying. There was nothing left for him to do.

“Arrived, the time has,” he said aloud. “Complete is my failure.”

“Do not despair, Master.” The voice of came from nowhere.

“Only the truth do I speak,” replied Yoda. “There you were when hope was lost. Know you do, that evil has won.” With another sigh, the ancient sage settled into bed. “Wrong we were,” he said at last.

“Have faith in the Force.”

“The Force!” Yoda laughed bitterly, then coughed some more. “How I know this, the Force is! A thing of darkness, it has become.” He shuddered, but not from anything physical. “Devour me it will.”

“The darkness?”

“No, the Force! Though the same, I suppose it is.”

“We depend on the Force,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “Not the other way around.”

“Wrong you are!” Yoda scowled. “Life creates it. Now on the path of self-destruction, the Force is. Consume everything, the dark side will.”

“No Master, it is you who are wrong.”

“About what?” He asked weakly.

"Search your feelings.”

Grudgingly, Yoda closed his eyes and began to meditate. Almost immediately, he was at peace. This was not surprising. He had accepted the grim reality for some time now. Still, he was grateful for the tranquility in his final hours. Serenity and... There was something else there. Faint, but definitely there. And it was growing stronger. Yoda's eyes snapped open.

It was Hope.

"This isn't over", Obi-Wan explained. "Far from it."

***

Later that day, the last light was extinguished in that primitive little dwelling; and with it, the Jedi Order.

***

It was a media circus. The 'Trial of the Century' or so they called it, though it had been the fifth in as many months. Still, even Graff had to admit this one was big.

He'd been watching the live feed since he first heard the news. He saw the warship space in and launch a shuttle. Graff watched as the shuttle, under heavy escort, descended and disgorged its human cargo. And the stormtroopers! More stormtroopers in one place than he'd ever seen. Security was tight, even for Coruscant. They marched the prisoners inside and...

He cursed. None of the actual proceedings would be public, only the sentencing. Typical. Graff switched the channel in irritation. He'd already endured almost three full hours of pundits 'discussing' the ramifications. On IHV 2 he was shown very large crowds of very angry demonstrators on Corellia, Chandrila, Ralltiir, Trantor, and a dozen other worlds throughout the Core and Inner Rim. None of them were as big as the protests on Coruscant though. An ISB surrogate was stressing the need for peace and patience. "Let justice take its course, he insisted. "the Procurator has assured us that it will be swift."

On IHV 3, they were at it again. Paranoid pundits screeching about the Organa Virus. On IHV 4, a sobbing Alderaanian refugee. On IHV 5, a COMPNOR rally with banners reading 'Remember Alderaan!' and 'Death to Traitors!' with some of the accused burning in effigy.

In just over an hour, the news channels returned to their live coverage. The feed was coming from inside one of the colossal courtrooms of the Imperial Supreme Court. If Graff remembered correctly, there were some eighty seven defendants, but eighty six of them were already dead. This was the main event, the moment the people of the galaxy had been waiting for. The silence was tangible as everyone, even the accused, rose to their feet. The Emperor himself arrived to deliver the sentence.

"The tribunal has reached its verdict," Palpatine announced. "The defendant is found guilty."

Shock and surprise! Graff thought to himself.

The Emperor continued. "For the crimes of mass murder, high treason, dereliction of duty, inciting rebellion, conspiracy to commit treason and crimes against sapience, the defendant, Wilhuff Tarkin, is hereby sentenced to death. Bailiffs, remove the prisoner."

Cheers went up throughout the courtroom. Graff was actually surprised by their intensity. Most of the observers were Alderaanian, some of the lucky few million who happened to be off world when the former Grand Moff hijacked the Centax Prime and turned it on Imperial citizens, apparently in an attempted coup.

Palpatine addressed the passionate crowd. "Sons and daughters of Alderaan, I must offer my most sincere apologies. While Wilhuff Tarkin acted outside his authority and against my orders, I am responsible for his appointment as governor of Oversector Outer. I am guilty. Guilty of entrusting the Centax Prime to a sadistic mass murderer. Security measures and fail-safes were in place, but alas they were not enough. That is no excuse for my indiscretion, and no amount of reparations will resurrect your proud and ancient world. However, the Empire has opened the New Alderaan colony on Borleias to those whose home was lost. And I solemnly swear that the Centax Prime will only be used against the extragalactic invaders lurking in the void!"

The applause was deafening. Many, Graff included, were still outraged at just how high the conspiracy went. A Grand Moff? Still, the Emperor had divorced himself from the day to day workings of the Empire for too long. At least the catastrophe managed to bring the far-reaching corruption to his attention. He would need to take a more active role to ensure nothing like that happened again.

***

From a secure and undisclosed location, Mon Mothma, leader of the Alliance to Restore the Republic (or rather, what was left of it) was also watching the HoloNet. It's over, she thought to herself. He's won. We've lost. Bail is gone. Jan, Leia, they're all gone. The Alliance is finished.

Yavin had been an absolute disaster. Her support dried up practically overnight. Half of her benefactors lost confidence in the Alliance and withdrew, the other half were too terrified of the Death Star to remain. She tried to tell them, tried to make them understand the threat of the Death Star was a paper tiger with its critical weakness known. Not that it mattered though. No one could find it. And the greater galaxy, as always, had bought into Palpatine's infuriating, absurd fiction. The people hailed the return of a kinder, gentler Empire. Tarkin had been thrown under the crawler over Alderaan; his arrogance at Yavin nearly costing him the battle. But not nearly enough. At least Imperial justice will finally come to someone who deserves it, she could take no comfort in the Butcher's death, however. There was no source of comfort in all the universe.

On her desk lay a blaster pistol. Mon Mothma stared at it for a long time. She jumped when the comm next to the weapon beeped. "Y-yes?" She stammered.

"A Mr. Nom Anor to see you, ma'am."

"Send him in."

[Themightytom]

Great start!

[FireNexus]

So the death star wasn't destroyed. Did Luke and Obi-Wan not find transport off of Tatooine, or is Luke just dead?

[Master_Baerne]

Finally, Star Wars as it should have happened.

Seriously though, excellent start. Pray continue.

[bazymew]

Interesting changes.
Will you have The Yuuzhan Vong fight with the rebel alliance against the Empire?

[Darth Raptor]

Will you have The Yuuzhan Vong fight with the rebel alliance against the Empire?

The rebels are so desperate they'll take whatever support they can find at this point. But they also have no idea who they're dealing with. Ironically, the Vong need the rebels way more than the rebels need the Vong. They've got a LOT of work ahead of them. As it stands, they've got chances that would make a snowball in hell feel confident.

So the death star wasn't destroyed. Did Luke and Obi-Wan not find transport off of Tatooine, or is Luke just dead?

Luke is dead.

*****

Through the halls of the Imperial Palace, two dark figures were taking a walk. Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, turned to his apprentice. “Yoda is dead,” he announced flatly.

“Then it is finished,” said Darth Vader with obvious satisfaction.

“It is never finished!” The Emperor admnonished. “At least two score remain. They survive, though not for lack of trying on your part.” He grinned beneath his hood.

“I have tried...”

“Yes, you have,” Palpatine agreed. “But it is of no concern. They are beaten, broken, defeated. We have created a galaxy in which they must live in secret. They cannot train replacements. Time will do the rest. The Jedi are no longer a threat.”

“Then this disturbance...”

“Yes, I have felt it also,” he offered nothing more on the subject.

The two walked in silence for a time. At last, “The governor's clone has been disposed of,” rumbled Vader.

“Finally,” Sidious spat with distaste. “We can put this farce behind us and move forward with our plan.”

“I am still not sure I understand your reasoning,” Vader admitted.

“The Tarkin Doctrine is flawed,” replied the Emperor. "So it has been discarded. Along with its author."

Vader regarded the Emperor in confusion. The gesture was not reciprocated. "Was I wrong to kill him?" He asked finally. Vader had savored the memory of strangling Tarkin to death immediately after his 'moment of triumph'.

"No, you were right to punish him for his arrogance. Were it not for you and your fighters, the battle station would have gone down with all hands. I will not tolerate that kind of gross negligence from a Grand Moff." He smiled in a way that only a Sith would find endearing. "But that was not the only reason. I have decided to adopt an... alternative means of reigning in the Rim Worlds."

"The Death Star-"

"The Centex," Palpatine corrected. The name had been changed when its existence was officially made public. Both to reflect its new role as a strictly defensive weapon and its status as 'the Empire's Other Capital'. It looked more like a moon than a star anyway.

"The Centex did not work as advertized,” Vader finished.

“A liability,” Palpatine agreed. “What good is a weapon like that if the galaxy knows how to destroy it with a light freighter? The destruction of Alderaan sowed anger, not fear. And while anger is delicious, directed toward us it is counterproductive.” He shook his head slowly. “The governor was a loyal supporter of our New Order, but his foolishness could not continue. We have not yet attained the power to cow the galaxy into submission. The Centex was supposed to be a symbol of insurmountable power, but then it was hunted across the galaxy by every centicred pirate, smuggler and rebel. Speaking of,” he prompted.

“The refits are 87% complete,” replied Vader. “It will take another month at least.”

Palpatine seethed. “I should have just had it scuttled and built another one!”

“Or another million conventional warships,” Vader mused idly.

“No! No, we need that superlaser platform. The coming struggle will demand it. Coruscant's New Moon will still become a symbol. It will inspire awe, not fear, in the masses. We will not conquer a single world. No, they will flock to the might of the Empire before the onslaught of the Coral Tide. I have forseen it.”

“And the invaders?”

“The threat is insignificant. As soon as they've served their purpose, they'll be exterminated.”

“And what purpose is that, my master?”

Palpatine cracked a hideous grin. “To usher in the next phase of the Empire.”

***

"Organized rebellion on a galactic scale has all but disappeared," insisted one of the panelists. "The military threat is over. I do think it's time for the Emperor to reinstate the Senate."

"And what of these extragalactic invaders?" Countered the program's host.

"Assuming they exist-"

"You doubt our Emperor!?" The host had a look on his face that suggested he could taste the blasphemy.

"I'm merely saying-"

"This won't be a mere rebellion," the host interrupted again. It won't even be a civil war. We're facing a war on a scale unprecedented in recorded history. An intergalactic war! Would you have us divided and dissolute before such a threat?"

"Would you turn that crap off," the captain growled irritably.

"Sorry Boss," Graff cut the feed and swiveled in his seat. "I didn't hear you board."

"That's why I hired you," The captain smiled sarcastically. "Your attention to detail."

"Hey, everything checked out when I ran the diagnostic. It's not my fault this ship is old and senile enough to be my grandmother."

The captain pointed at him as if his index finger were a holdout blaster, but Graff didn't relent. "It's fat and ugly enough too. And in a similar state of disrepair."

"You only need to be worried about that last one."

"The computer is schizophrenic! And one of its many personalities is some kind of rugged individualist that can never admit anything's wrong. Also, she speaks gibberish. So anyway," he segued without missing a beat. "How did it go?"

"We got the contract."

"I thought we weren't running guns anymore, Boss," It wasn't anything ethical, there just wasn't much money in it these days.

"I wouldn't exactly call these 'guns'," the captain looked flabbergasted.

Graff checked the bill of lading. "What the hell, 'exotic animals'?"

"Hey, I'm not gonna complain." The captain shrugged. "I had to buy a special permit, but it's not contraband. If they want to pay smuggling rates for legal cargo, I'm more than happy to haul it." He grinned. "Looks like I've become a respectable businessman."

"There's no such thing," Graff mused. "Still, whatever helps you sleep at night." He caught the captain's pained expression. "Sorry, Boss."

"Don't be," he hit the comm. "Chewie, get back here. We're taking off."

[JME2]

An interesting premise you have here. I especially liked this line of Palpatine's:

...onslaught of the Coral Tide...

The Coral Tide...has a nice ring to it.

Also, is this Graff meant to be the father of the NRDF captain from Agents of Chaos I: Hero's Trial

[Darth Raptor]

Also, is this Graff meant to be the father of the NRDF captain from Agents of Chaos I: Hero's Trial

Nah, his full name is Graff Bel Naur. It's a big galaxy.

*****

The modified Nebulon-B frigate Redemption, now one of the largest remaining ships in the Alliance Fleet, spaced into the uninhabited Oagei System, the agreed-upon rendezvous point between Mon Mothma and the associates of Nom Anor. Immediately upon reverting to realspace, the ship fired its engines and came about, setting a course for an emergency jump, just in case. These days, the remaining Rebels couldn't be too careful. All it took was one wagging tongue or one lucky Imperial patrol to behead the organization for good.

Captain Imy Tass, the Redemption's commanding officer, monitored the sensor station personally. She hadn't met this Nom Anor, but from what she heard she wasn't about to trust him. She stood ready to give the order to enter hyperspace just as soon as anything the size of a Star Destroyer dropped out.

It did.

I knew it! That slimy-! Wait. That's no Star Destroyer... "Commander, did the Mon Cals have any extra Cruisers laying around they didn't tell us about?"

"Not to my knowledge," rasped Koock, the ship's Calamari XO. The Empire's full withdrawal from his watery homeworld was a serious blow to Mon Calamari's support for the war. While they knew how to fight, they were a peaceful people by nature and most proved unwilling to continue the war if they could coexist with the Empire. Koock could neither forgive nor forget the Empire's crimes, though he was in an ever-shrinking minority.

Captain Tass returned to the scopes and brought up a visual. Her mouth gaped open in amazement. It didn't just look organic like a Star Cruiser did, it was organic. There wasn't a whit of metal on the thing, it seemed to be some kind of giant, spacefaring organism growing out of an asteroid. That wasn't exactly unprecedented, but to her knowledge hyperdrive was nonexistent in the natural world. She couldn't discern any kind of drives on the thing, but somehow it changed direction. It's coming this way, she realized.

She was just about to order the shields raised when she heard the hail. "Uh, patch it through, I guess..."

"Greetings Captain," the audio was a bit fuzzy. "I am Nom Anor. I am here on behalf of the Yuuzhan Vong to meet with Mon Mothma, is she available?"

Tass had never heard of the Yuuzhan Vong, a fact that she found odd. She had been born in space, considered herself well-traveled and at least heard of almost every major power in the galaxy. That there could be a species with ship-building technology on that scale, exotic and entirely biotic to boot, was incredible. If that... thing were a warship, then...

"Captain?" Anor prompted, his voice contained infinite patience.

"Um, Yes! Yes of course! She will see you now. You are cleared to for docking."

"Thank you, Captain." The transmission was cut with nothing further.

Within seconds, Captain Tass watched with fascination as a tiny fragment of the rock-ship broke off and sped toward the Redemption. "Alert the Chief," she commanded. "The... Yuuzhan Vong delegate has arrived."

***

He wore an entirely unremarkable face. Mon Mothma was well aware it was a disguise and that he wasn't human, but he'd insisted it was for her own benefit and that removing the masquer was particularly painful. She understood. His people had maintained an entirely covert presence in the galaxy for years, but that existence was no longer sustainable. The bulk of the refugees would be arriving soon and the Empire would not tolerate extragalactic settlers. This brought him aboard the Redemption as the Intendant responsible for Yuuzhan Vong-Alliance relations. He had been supplying the Alliance with advanced biological weapons for weeks, but now it appeared his people sought to work with the Alliance in a more direct manner.

"It is in both our interests the Galactic Empire is destroyed," he explained. "Their Emperor has made his position abundantly clear: They will cede no worlds to the Yuuzhan Vong, no matter how remote, unpopulated or useless. My people have traveled for far too long to be cast back into the void."

"Palpatine seems to be using your migration as a political tool, claiming the threat of invasion as justification for his continued military buildup. With the setbacks we've suffered, we're no longer a threat to him and thus he needs a new excuse."

"It is regrettable," he agreed. "There is more than enough space in this galaxy for all our peoples to coexist. Unfortunately for us, there is a wide gulf between Imperial culture and our own. One they are either unable or unwilling to bridge. They fear what they don't understand, and they hate what they fear. That he should resort to genocide to strengthen his political position is most regrettable..."

"It wouldn't be the first time. The Empire is notorious for its ideas of human supremacy. Countless nonhuman races have been enslaved and exterminated under Palpatine."

"Personally," broached Anor, "your people have inspired in me a great deal of confidence. While it is true that your ways are not ours, you are willing to look past such differences and seek a common ground. While the Empire may not tolerate us, I am sure we could find a place in the New Republic you seek to establish."

"As you said, Mr. Anor: There is a lot of space in this galaxy, you either embrace diversity or you cloister yourself away like the Imperials. Mutual understanding was what the Republic was all about, and that is why we fight for its restoration. The Empire... cannot be salvaged. I've tried. As long as Palpatine lives, the galaxy will groan under his tyranny. We welcome your support, Intendant. We are not asking your people to fight a war for us, but your assistance is greatly appreciated."

"My people are proud warriors. We would be honored to help liberate our new home."

"I am relieved to hear that. Your technology is most effective, but it is... unique. It has taken some time for our people to familiarize themselves with the various organisms your Shapers have so masterfully created."

"Believe me when I say I completely understand," Anor said reassuringly. "I've found your machines not only strange and complicated, but disturbing and distasteful. No offense."

"None taken. I do hope you won't face religious consequences due to-"

"The Priests understand that allowances must be made. Though that brings me little comfort. When we've built our new home I will no longer be forced to sully myself with such contraptions. I realize it may seem a silly superstition to your people, but your Republic will at least tolerate our belief in the gods. The Empire will not. The greater of two 'evils' as it were. Again-"

"I understand. So long as you don't force our religion on us, we will respect yours. That is the way of the Republic. Your creations are not abominable to us, they're just... unusual in a galaxy rich with metals."

"Ours was not." He smiled, "Our servants do have some practical advantages over what you consider conventional technology. As I said before, there are countless unsettled worlds in this galaxy. Our weapons, equipment, vehicles, ships... They're not made, they're grown. Often requiring little more than sunlight. That is the beauty of the Yuuzhan Vong. With our knowledge, you can compete with the Empire's economy of metal. All we need are planets." His grin broadened. "If you supply the worlds, we'll supply a grand army that will liberate this galaxy for all our peoples."

Mon Mothma seemed to think it over. "How can I refuse?" She said at last.

***

Safely back aboard the Matalok, Nom Anor shuddered with revulsion. Even the searing pain he felt as he removed the Ooglith could not cleanse his shame. If he was still in the favor of any god, it was Yun-Harla. To fight alongside the infidels was preferable to extinction, but just barely. It was weak, cowardly. Even for an Intendant. Still, he had secured a great asset in his mission to undermine the Empire. It would take years, but years was something Nom Anor had. His people had waited for millennia to reach this galaxy. The decades it would take to prepare it for conquest were nothing. In the end, the Alliance would have its peace. For in the language of the Yuuzhan Vong, 'peace' was synonymous with 'submission'.

[Master_Baerne]

Damn silver-tongued spies, always tricking people.

[JME2]

Also, is this Graff meant to be the father of the NRDF captain from Agents of Chaos I: Hero's Trial

Nah, his full name is Graff Bel Naur. It's a big galaxy.

That's what I thought; never hurts to check, after all.

Anyway, the Alliance working with the Vong, Nom Anor and his trickery at work -- I love it...

[Themightytom]

I feel like theres a little fast forward here but its proably because of the altered series of events. The empire hasn't withdrawn from the Yevethans homeworld so they aren't going o start building uber star destroyers. Thrawn is still messing around in some obscure backwater so he won't be looking for the katana fleet... kyp is still a slave on kessel, Admiral Daala is still in the maw with no reason or authority to leave and Exar kun is freflaoting atoms thanks to the death star.

Maybe we can expect an appearence from the bird jedi, i can't think of
her name right now, how would kyp do with a mentor like that?

Wait now Tarkin was a clone? What the... did i misunderstand that?

Does Vader know he just iced his own kids?

Will Ackbar realize what Nom Anor truly intends and shout "Its a trap!"

I think theres only one prson we can depend on now... LANDO!

This is definiely an intriguing universe, great job!
Regardless the glaaxy seems more stable under the empire's control.

[Scottish Ninja]

Wait now Tarkin was a clone? What the... did i misunderstand that?

Vader killed Tarkin on board the Death Star, shortly after Yavin - the Empire had to have someone to put on the stand and be sentenced to execution, so they produced a clone to fill that spot.

[Darth Raptor]

It was a long trip, even for the Falcon. From Nar Shaddaa in Hutt Space to the Leypen System in Wild Space took several hours and no less than eighteen separate jumps. Graff had spent most of the trip watching recorded news holos, but even he tired of the blatant Imperial propaganda after a while. It looked as if the powers that be were succumbing to political pressure and seriously considering bringing back the Senate. COMPNOR and its sister organizations were opposed, but the New Order and Human High Culture advocates had lost a lot of credibility in the wake of the Alderaan disaster. Approval for the Emperor and the military was still high, but the Moff governors were more unpopular than ever. Graff found that ironic, as the Moffs were handpicked by Palpatine and they played the military like a cheap plastic flute.

Once it became repetitive he played dejarik with Chewbacca, but he wasn't any good at it. The Wookiee was a bit of a sore winner, and he suspected Graff to be throwing the matches. The fragile human finally decided he had routine checks to run, but by hour six they became extremely routine. The captain spent most of the trip napping, and while Chewbacca busied himself building a model starfighter, Graff's curiosity finally got the better of him.

Sure it was against the rules, but there were no hard and fast rules in the smuggling business, even if they weren't technically smuggling. The cargo was kept in stasis, in keeping with both the local and Imperial customs laws, but the containers could be opened without disrupting hibernation. Most were nothing all that unusual. While Graff had never seen any of the animals before, in a galaxy with over twenty billion living worlds, that was about as suspicious as wet water. What did strike him as odd was the sheer quantity of beetles, snakes, lizards, crabs and assorted bizarre xenoforms they were hauling. Most were in a larval or embryonic state of development and this, combined with the bulk quantity suggested someone was opening a farm, not a pet shop. Considering their client and destination, that made a certain degree of sense, but why? What was a front for the Rebel Alliance doing with all these weird animals?

"Something on your mind, kid?"

Graff jumped, hit his head and swore, in that order. "Sorry Boss," he said finally. "Is this the part where I get the customer confidentiality lecture?"

"Actually no. Confidentiality just means we don't tell the Imps or the bounty hunters." Captain Solo grinned, "For free, anyway. I was hoping you could make sense of this mess."

"I sure can't explain it," Graff admitted. "This is weird as all hell, Boss. I don't like it."

"I hear you. If ExGal wasn't such an obvious Rebel front, I'd write it off as paranoia." He ran a hand across one of the stasis frames. "There's a military asset here. We're just not seeing it."

“Medicinal uses?”

“Could be.”

“Foodstuffs?”

“Don't be an idiot.”

"Biological weapons?" Graff managed to keep the dread out of his voice, but just barely. The Organa Virus had turned out to be a total Tarkinist fabrication to justify Alderaan, but the mass hysteria was fresh on everyone's memory. "I thought you said the Rebels weren't terrorists."

"Well, they weren't when I worked for them. But they had an actual military and some popular support back then, small as it was." He got that faraway look on his face. "Desperate times..." he said quietly.

"Nobody's ever apologized for Yavin," Graff pointed out. "And while they've never said as much, it's pretty clear the Empire will use that battle moon of theirs if there's no civvies to get in the way." He shuddered. "Maybe the Rebels think they need a superweapon of their own to keep the field level."

"The field has never been level," Han corrected. "And they've never been the type. Even if they had a biowar virus, they wouldn't use it."

"Says you," Graff argued. "The Alderaanian royalists all died at Yavin."

Han glowered at his mechanic, but Graff didn't relent. "It's true. The principled pacifists aren't running the show anymore. They were just talking about reinstating the Senate on IHV. Slavery's been abolished. Moff governors are being removed by the thousands. Decrees have been made to make things easier on women and non-humans. The Empire's changing, Boss. And the only ones still fighting it are those with a personal stake in a war they already lost."

Han was quiet and the two men stood in silence for a long time. Finally the veteran smuggler checked the chronometer on his wrist. "We should be coming up on on our next jump point. Put this crap back together and try to forget what you saw." He turned and marched toward the cockpit without another word.

Graff felt sorry for him. He knew the captain was mixed up with the Rebels years ago, apparently had some friends in the Alliance. He'd even been there on Yavin. But he did the smart thing: He cut his losses and fled the moon before the Centex Prime reduced it to relativistic space debris. Graff suspected that Captain Solo blamed himself, and believed that if he'd stayed and fought then maybe, just maybe he could have made a difference. It was craziness; pure survivor's guilt, but Graff could still see the sleepless nights he endured because of it. Worse yet, Chewbacca seemed to be of a like mind. Though he'd follow his partner into a black hole, he'd growl and roar about it well past the event horizon. He got no support from the Wookiee for his decision, but Graff suspected he didn't want support. He just accepted his status as irredeemable, mercenary scum.

***

Graff had been to some remote star systems in his life, but Leypen practically defined it. Leypen was a red giant several hundred parsecs above the galactic plane, well beyond the fringes of civilized space. The star had eleven planets: The first four scorched to uselessness, the last six gas giants. The fifth planet was the closest thing to 'hospitable' in local space, but that was a bit generous. On the planet's moon was ExGal 6, a civilian research station ostensibly built to search for signs of extragalactic life. It had the long range arrays to maintain plausible deniability, but as the Millennium Falcon descended on the outpost its crew were able to piece together some of the mystery.

“They're definitely doing some kind of biotics research here,” Graff pointed out the industrial food pods and farming tanks. “There's enough equipment here to feed thousands. I seriously doubt the station's crew eats that much.”

Chewbacca growled something and Han laughed. Whatever the joke was, Graff wasn't included, but he was used to that by now. Unperturbed, “I'll bet they're trying to grow whatever it is we're bringing them. But why?”

“Look kid,” Han adopted his 'serious voice'. “Don't get any ideas about snooping around or playing twenty questions once we're down there. Let's get in, drop off the zoo, refuel and get out. This place is giving me the creeps.”

Chewie offered his keening agreement.

Inside the docking bay of ExGal 6, the Falcon's crew was met by a female human, a Caamasi and another humanoid of unfamiliar origin. “You arrived quicker than expected,” she smiled to Han.

“Hey, fastest ship in the galaxy,” Han said, beaming with pride. It wasn't true, of course, but there were very few ships that were appreciably faster. And of those, even fewer were in the hands of free traders. “Mind if we top off? We came straight here from the Vertical City.”

“Be my guest.” That was Graff's cue, and he set about refueling the ship. He worked as quietly as the heavy equipment would allow, listening in as the Caamasi and the other humanoid began unloading the crates. “The cargo wasn't disturbed, was it?” the woman asked.

“Nope,” said Han casually, just as if it were the truth.

“That's good,” she seemed relieved. “They didn't give you any trouble did they?”

“Who?”

“The Imperials.”

Graff sighed, grateful for the captain's sense. For a minute he was sure the scientist was talking about the animals. Would it been him, he probably would have blown it.

“Why would they?” Han asked with genuine curiosity. “I have a Class 88 Permit.”

This seemed to get her nerf. “You mean you got this through inspections?”

“Why wouldn't I? Oh, that's right. Would you sign this bill?” He pulled a datapad out of his vest.

“Mr. Solo,” the woman adopted a quiet voice, the kind that carried perfectly across an open docking bay. “I was to understand you were one of the best smugglers in the galaxy. That's why we hired you. Are you meaning to tell me you didn't actually ah, smuggle?”

“Was I supposed to?”

“Yes!”

“Sorry sweetheart,” he raised his hands defensively. “How was I supposed to know? The tariffs weren't even all that bad. Well, for the Empire, anyway.”

“This isn't about tariffs!” She pinched the bridge of her nose, then sighed. “Were you boarded?”

“No,” it was true.

“So the Imperials know nothing about this?”

“No! Like I said, we came straight here from Nar Shaddaa, we weren't even in the Empire!”

“Alright, fine. Whatever,” she gave in as Graff rejoined them. Both the refueling and unloading complete. “Just, if you haul for us again, make sure to actually smuggle the goods, okay?”

“You don't need to worry about that,” he spun on his heel and marched up the ramp. As soon as everyone was aboard and the door was down, “Note to self,” he muttered. “When dealing weapons, treat everything like it is a weapon, even if it isn't.” Chewbacca howled. “That's because it is!”

“Are we gonna keep doing this run?” Asked Graff.

“No,” Han barked as he prepped the ship for takeoff. “Well, maybe. Whatever they're up to, I guarantee it's nothing we want to be involved in. I don't want to go back to running spice for the Hutts if I can avoid it. But at least I know what their game is. Better the devil you know...”

“I thought you said they were alright,” Graff pointed out. "It's good money."

“Very good,” Han agreed. “Few more of these runs and I'll be able to fire you and buy an astromech droid."

"Hurf hurf hurf."

"It's gonna get tougher from here on out though," the 'serious voice' was back. "We lucked out 'cause the Imps aren't watching out for this stuff. Yet. I'm sure that will change once those critters start causing trouble." Chewbacca said something. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

***

Tur'ash was a world like many on the Mid Rim. For decades the Tur'ashi Sector groaned under the heel of its ruthless Moff governor. Tur'ash had seceded from the Republic before the Clone War, proclaiming neutrality in the inevitable conflict in hope of being spared the devastation. It wasn't. Early on the Republic had made it clear that secession wouldn't be tolerated and if you weren't with them, you were against them. The Seperatists had no use for the sector at first, so there was only the local militia to defend against the Grand Army of the Republic. Tur'ash fell in less than an hour. As the war raged on, the Confederacy eventually decided that Tur'ash was strategically important, and the smallish Republic garrison was overrun by hordes of automated war machines. The planet's 'liberation' was short-lived and Tur'ash was reconquered by the Republic a second time, shortly before the end of the war. The planet was in ruins, and its new Imperial governor wasn't much help.

Moff Burang Hoor was your classic tyrant, a petty dictator that wielded the military like a club and never hesitated to swing. He exploited the sector for everything it was worth and between himself, Admiral Uskath and General Honeld, they had quite a racket going. Understandably, they were loath to relinquish it. So once again, after over twenty years of relative peace, Tur'ash was once again burned by the fires of war. But for the first time, the Tur'ashi were cheering the Emperor and his government on Coruscant. Despite what they'd always believed, Palpatine was merely ignorant of the plight of the Tur'ashi people. And while that didn't speak well for his Empire, they welcomed his efforts to correct the situation.

The battle was quite brief. Apparently Moff Hoor and his cohorts had assumed they weren't worthy of Coruscant's attention. And while that may have been reasonable, in their survey of economic resources and strategic assets, they failed to consider politics. They also forgot that the ubiquitous stormtroopers who did their bidding for so long did not, in fact, answer to them. While they fought with coordination, discipline and machine-like bravery, the Marine Detachment on Tur'ash was outgunned by the regular Army forces under General Honeld. Colonel GX-8292 was no fool, and instead his forces took to the cities where they wore down the Army in brutal, urban warfare; negating Honeld's singular advantage. They also had support. The impossible sight of Tur'ashi rebels and Imperial stormtroopers fighting side by side was an image not soon forgotten. Admiral Uskath was having even worse luck. The few ships he didn't lose to stormtrooper mutinies were quickly obliterated by the others. By the time the oversector expeditionary force arrived in-system, there was only mopping up to be done.

What followed then was even more incredible. After the end of major combat operations, Tur'ash had a new governor; an elected governor. All Imperial military forces were then ordered to withdraw from Tur'ash and its colonies... unless the Tur'ashi decided to join the Empire on a voluntary basis. They did.

Tur'ash was a world like many on the Mid Rim.

[JME2]

Still loving it.

[Themightytom]

Wait now Tarkin was a clone? What the... did i misunderstand that?

Vader killed Tarkin on board the Death Star, shortly after Yavin - the Empire had to have someone to put on the stand and be sentenced to execution, so they produced a clone to fill that spot.

How much did it suck to be THAT clone??
"Hi welcome to life, you're being tried for War Crimes, prepare for execution."

[Spice Runner]

Hmm. l like where this fic is going.

[Darth Raptor]

For the first time in nearly a decade, Mon Mothma allowed herself to hope. Assembled in deep space at a secret location was the largest rebel fleet since the Clone War. Thanks to the influence of Admiral Ackbar, now Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces, Mon Calamari was back on their side. The Galactic Empire's withdrawal from the Rim had allowed its shipyards to churn out their signature Star Cruisers at a rate that would put Corellia to shame. Speaking of, the Corellian Sector was now an autonomous region that was seriously (if secretly) courting the Alliance. The Bothans were in. The Bel Iblis faction was in. Kashyyyk, Ryloth, Rodia, Ando and Falleen had been liberated. Well, not so much 'liberated' as vacated by the Imperial occupation forces. There was talk of establishing an independent 'Republic of the Rim' but neither Mothma, Ackbar or Bel Iblis would hear of it. They knew the truth: That Palpatine's reformation was some kind of sinister ploy. So long as that wicked man was Galactic Emperor, the galaxy would never be safe. The Alliance was not alone in its conviction, its three latest and greatest members were testament to that grim reality. While they'd signed no formal treaties, the Mandalorians, Yuuzhan Vong and Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium all had a bone to pick with the Empire; and despite their (admittedly vast) cultural differences, all recognized that together, they stood a far greater chance of victory than they did divided.

Aboard the Home One, a massive Calamari battleship the rival of any in the Imperial Navy, military and political leaders from all the major Allied nations were gathered. While they were all able to indulge in some cautious optimism (a rare novelty), they were planning yet another escalation of the Galactic Civil War. Admiral Ackbar approached the the holoprojector as the room darkened to brief the assembly on the military situation.

"As you're already aware, the Galactic Empire has been drastically reorganizing itself for the past ten years. Since the Yavin Massacre, it has shifted its focus from direct, military confrontation with us and has concentrated on a political campaign to discredit its critics. President Mothma will brief you on that momentarily. Personally, I liked it better before," nervous laughter passed among the assembly. "The good news is the Imperial forces are withdrawing Coreward on all fronts. This gives us an opportunity build up our forces like never before. We'll need it; as the Imperial military is doing the same thing and they still have an overwhelming advantage in resources."

He inhaled sharply, it was a slightly disconcerting sucking noise. "The shipyards at Corellia and Dac are supplying the bulk of our main armada. Our new Mandalorian, Yuuzhan Vong and Ssi-Ruuvi allies all have substantial starfleets to draw on, but I'm afraid that with all our forces combined, we're still no match for the Empire in a stand-up fight."

"The Death Star," someone in the audience blurted out.

"Actually no," Ackbar corrected. The hologram shifted from a projection of the galaxy with color-coded regions to a scale model of that colossal battle moon. "The Death Star is a powerful weapon and a serious threat to be sure, but its strategic value to the Empire is minimal. In a full scale war it is sorely limited by its inability to be everywhere in the galaxy at once. Even with its hyperdrive, it can't respond to every attack. It has all the major problems of any large warship too; it must be fueled, crewed, maintained and victualed. In a full scale war, its limitations will become readily apparent. Unless we allow it to terrorize us, it's little more than a really expensive torpedo sphere. It can win battles, but it cannot win wars."

This prompted some excited discussion among the gathered Allied leaders. The admiral waited patiently for the eventual chorus of shushes to self-silence the crowd. "No, I'm afraid the real threat is what it's always been: The vast conventional forces of the Imperial Navy." Again the hologram changed, this time displaying an Executor-Class battleship. "They haven't been resting on their laurels during the detente, they've been building warships and support craft faster than we have; and their Coreward withdrawal has only fortified their overwhelming advantage. As you know, the Core, the Colonies, the Expansion Region and the Inner Rim are, for the most part, very pro-Imperial."

"I guess Alderaan didn't get the memo," someone muttered.

Ackbar ignored him, and switched the hologram back to the galactic map. The Core region was magnified. "In friendly, 'civilized' space, the Empire doesn't need to pacify rebellious sectors, interdict pirates and smugglers or intervene in brushfire conflicts. The core of its territory is nothing like the Rim, that means that it can bring the full might of its armada to bear if necessary. I don't need to impress upon you how hopeless a direct Coreward invasion would be." But he did anyway and the image became a suitably poignant hologram of a debris field. The drifting hulks were barely recognizable as Clone War-era warships. After the hushed discussion died down, the image returned to the galactic map.

"After careful discussion between myself, General Bel Iblis, Executor Anor and Mandalore Shysa, we've concluded that asymmetrical warfare is our only real option. We will continue to strengthen our position, but we must weaken the Empire's."

"You're talking about terrorism!" Gasped an Alderaanian woman.

"I'm talking about an insurgency," Ackbar countered. "The Imperials can call it what they will, but there is no way for us to liberate the Core without some popular support."

"Than maybe we should leave the Empire alone," the woman insisted. "Let's start our own Republic, out here on the Rim!"

[And just forget about your homeworld?] roared a Wookiee.

"That won't bring them back!" Her eyes were welling up. "Nothing will, but that doesn't justify a war of aggression! You've all become so focused on victory at any cost. You're no better than the Empire!"

"Guards, escort Ms. Chelchu to her quarters," ordered the sergeant-at-arms. "She's still distraught over what happened."

"Now then," rasped Ackbar over the woman's colorful protestations. "Commander Antilles, General Salm, this will be a return to the operations you're familiar with. The kind of hit-and-fade tactics your fighter wings are best at. We used to have a slight advantage over the Imperial Navy in fightercraft, but Yavin was a serious setback and that gap is now inverted. Suffice to say that Seinar has been busy." The projector displayed an advanced TIE fighter with three odd-angled radiator wings. "Meet your worst nightmare. The TIE Defender is the latest space superiority starfighter of the Imperial Navy, and a serious departure from their old doctrine of 'quantity over quality'. The new policy seems to be 'quantity AND quality'. The Defender is more than a match for anything in our arsenal. I'll send you the technical specifications. They won't replace the Interceptor completely, but that ship's getting an overhaul too: Deflector shields on par with ours. That's bad news for our pilots."

"Now then, the good news." The projector now displayed a very compact, blade-shaped fighter. "This is the RZ-1 Interceptor. We've nicknamed it the 'A-Wing'. It's fast, maneuverable and deadly, but that's about it. Think a long-range TIE Interceptor with missiles. This should make those Imperial bomber jocks think twice." He clicked a button and the image changed. "Speaking of bombers, the Verpine have provided us with this magnificent new craft. The B-Wing will be replacing those old BTLs you're all sick of. Personally, I think this ship goes beyond 'starfighter' and well into 'gunboat' territory, but I'm sure your pilots won't be complaining."

The map returned, this time with a focus on the vast expanse of space that was the Outer Rim. In the wide swath of Allied red and neutral gray, there were still a lot of sectors colored Imperial blue. "Now, the Empire has not withdrawn from the region completely. Some worlds, for whatever reason, have remained aligned with the Empire and are of political importance. Others are of strategic or economic importance and these have remained occupied, regardless of what the locals have to say." His concave eye regarded the flight officers again. "Shipping to these isolated sectors is now vulnerable. I want you disrupt as much of it as you can and cut these worlds off from the greater Empire. I leave the details to your discretion."

"Cutting worlds off is one thing," he continued. "Taking and holding them is quite another. Our ground forces are severely lacking. We don't have the manpower to effectively combat stormtroopers, let alone the Imperial Army. Orbital bombardment is out of the question for obvious reasons," he hesitated. "Allied Command has approved the mass-production of battle droids."

The collective gasp and heated argument were entirely expected, but some of the older beings actually got up and stormed out of the room. Ackbar raised an entreating hand, "People, please! We simply do not have enough soldiers for ground operations. These are desperate times, and if we're going to take worlds from the Empire and defend them from counterattack, the Allied Army must be brought as near to parity as possible!"

The assembled leaders of the Rebellion finally calmed down enough for Ackbar to speak without shouting. He continued, "We have the schematics for most of the models used during the Clone War, updated of course. But Backtoid B1s and B2s will provide the bulk of the droid forces." The vintage war machines were displayed on the projector. "The B1s will supplement our recon units and vehicle crews while the B2s will reinforce our infantry units. Other models will be brought online as production expands." Ackbar cut the projector and sighed as the lights were turned back up. "That's the situation. All military commanders, meet me here for an in-depth briefing at sixteen hundred hours." He turned to Mon Mothma, "President Mothma will now address the political and counterintelligence campaigns against the Galactic Empire."

"Thank you Admiral," she bowed courteously as he ceded the floor. "Now then, as you have no doubt heard, the Imperial Senate has been reinstated. This could not possibly be more damaging to our cause. The opening of Imperial society and increased civil participation eliminates one of our strongest arguments against the Palpatine regime."

"Their Senate is a sham!" Declared a Bothan. "An assembly of sycophants and stooges, nothing more!"

Mon Mothma nodded. "You know that, I know that," she made a sweeping gesture. "Everyone here knows that. But you must understand how this looks to the general public. How can we claim to fight for democracy when the Empire is, technically, a democratic state."

"It's still a dictatorship!" The Bothan insisted. "The Emperor still holds absolute power, with no checks on his authority or limits on his term! He can still appoint governors or remove senators. He can dismiss the Senate entirely or ignore its decisions altogether. It's an advisory body at best, just as it was before the New Order."

"Again, that's all true," Mothma countered. "But the illusion of freedom is maintained and, for the Emperor's purposes, that's what's important. Remember that for the majority of humans and near-humans living in the Core, the Emperor is still quite popular. Since Tarkin's execution and these so-called 'reforms' his popular approval is at its highest since the Clone War. Despite our best efforts, the perception exists that Palpatine was merely ignorant of the crimes committed in his name. And now that the injustices have been brought to light, this beloved elder statesman has come out of retirement to right all wrongs." She raised her hands in a placating gesture. "It's absurd, I know. But it's true. That is how the ignorant Imperial citizens see their Emperor."

"Then we must work to change that perception."

"We are," she agreed. "And we have been. The Ministry of Education and Allied Intelligence have been working diligently to counter the Imperial propaganda flooding the HoloNet." She shook her head wearily. "But it is an uphill battle. Ironically, the return of the Senate and the loosening of state censorship laws makes that easier. If we can get our message out and recruit sympathetic senators, we may be able to turn the Senate into something other than an echo chamber." She inhaled sharply; this would be the toughest sale. "But that will not be enough. We must do whatever is necessary to destabilize the Imperial government. Our Yuuzhan Vong allies have been supplying weapons and equipment to revolutionary groups throughout the galaxy. I am hereby directing all Alliance members to do the same, and asking our associated nations to follow suit. Any group in political opposition to the Galactic Empire will have our material support. No questions asked."

The Chief of State of the Alliance to Restore the Republic had just authorized the sale of weapons to criminal organizations and terrorist groups. Her delicate phrasing did nothing to change that." The outrage spread through the assembled leaders like wildfire. While clean hands were scarce in the Rebellion, they could always make a fairly persuasive argument that they held the moral high ground. What Mothma just ordered turned the Alliance into everything the Empire made it out to be: A loose confederation of brigands and anarchists. Some would leave the Alliance forever that day, but the vast majority remained behind. They were in too deep, had lost too much to back out now. They would see this through to the bitter end. The Empire was simply too evil to be tolerated and they would do what was necessary. Odds were however, that the end would be bitter indeed.

***

Darth Vader didn't ask why he'd been summoned. He knew the answer. There was a great disturbance in the Force, a roiling perturbation of ambiguous alignment and incredible power. He had first felt it some time ago, and was impressed with its strength back then. It was all the more powerful now. Had it only now arrived? Or had it always been there, a primal force that was only now making its existence known? He had no idea if this development was boon or bane. For it was at once a creature of light and a monster of darkness. It was neither and both at the same time, much like the Force itself. Some Jedi believed that the Force had a living will and a sentient consciousness. If that were true, that will was now manifesting itself in physical form. At least, that had been Vader's impression in what little meditation he could manage these days. He was sure his master, in his terrible wisdom and forethought, would know what to do.

"Lord Vader," the Emperor turned in his chair to regard his apprentice. "Rise, my friend. I sense you're well aware of why you're here."

"Yes, my master," Vader replied. "This... disturbance. It grows stronger by the day. What does it mean?"

Sidious rose to his feet and walked to the window, pretending to observe the gleaming spires and dense air traffic of Coruscant. He was silent for a moment, stroking his chin as if deep in thought. "The Avatar has arrived," he said at last.

"The Avatar?"

"In my studies, I learned that ancient Jedi legends speak of strange phenomena that occur when the Force is unbalanced. These disturbances manifest themselves physically. The Avatar is just one of these phenomena. It is an incarnation of the Force itself, given mortal form."

Vader said nothing, but his mind was awash with thoughts and emotions. A similar prophecy foretold his own birth. The old Jedi Order believed him to be the Chosen One, a hero of destiny that would restore balance to the Force. They believed this meant he would destroy the Sith, but a Force skewed toward the light was no more in balance than a Force left in darkness. At any rate, he was now Sith, so the Jedi were wrong. The true meaning of the prophecy remained a mystery.

The Emperor continued, "Just before I felt Yoda's death, these tremors appeared. Just as the dark side had reached its height, I sensed that something was... wrong. Chaos had commenced, and order was trying to reassert itself. It was a strange feeling indeed, as if something happened that was not supposed to, or that something that was supposed to happen did not. Whatever the cause, I believe the Avatar is here to correct that."

"What then, are we to do?" Asked Vader, ever the pragmatist.

"This could unravel everything I've done," said Sidious, as if that would be a minor inconvenience. "We must proceed with caution. I have taken great risks. Me, the Dark Lord of the Sith, willfully ceding power!" He snorted. "This is not the time for ancient prophecies to be fulfilled, not when my Empire is at its most vulnerable. I will let nothing stand in the way of my mastery of the Force. Not even the Force itself."

In the darkness of the Emperor's throne room, Vader breathed noisily.

"Go to Trantor," ordered the Emperor. "The Avatar is there. Find it. Bring it before me. If you fail, destroy it. Either way, the threat must be eliminated."

"As you wish," Vader turned and left to carry out his master's bidding.