Emperor Harcourt collapsed onto his throne. He took a moment to inspect his hands and arms. He had never quite gotten used to them.
"They aren't even really mine," he said to himself. "Even after six years, it still feels like being trapped in a different person's body."
"I have no doubt it does, your majesty," said a voice from across the room as the doors to the Emperor's Chamber hissed shut.
Harcourt turned his chair to face the newcomer. It was a man dressed in the symbolic red of the Imperial Guard, but his attire was much more flamboyant than the silent guardians of the Emperor. Harcourt knew this man well - Guardsman Attean, commander of the Imperial Guard. Charged with defending the Emperor, Attean performed admirably, although Harcourt often suspected Attean yearned to sit on the throne, not merely defend it. "What is your report?" Harcourt snapped, grasping the arm rests of his throne tightly.
Attean stood straight and narrow while delivering his report: "Your majesty, Admiral Talbot reports that raids into United Soviet Socialist Federation territory has been wildly successful. He reports that the Black Corsair Battleship Mark II Black Ice was destroyed in their last encounter."
Harcourt visibly relaxed, nonchalantly asking, "Loses?"
"The Zealot-class Cruiser Inquisitor was completely destroyed by enemy forces, losing all hands. As you know, the raiding party could not linger to recover survivors."
Harcourt prided himself on keeping up with fleet inventories. He wanted to be sure he knew the exact strength of his fleet before sending it off to war - he also prided himself on gathering accurate intelligence on the size and location of enemy fleets. Still, he allowed himself to relax. The loss of a single medium cruiser to one of the Federation's finest was a fine trade.
The Emperor allowed himself to losen up, reminiscing to times when he had been at the front.
"The BCBSII was a terror of the galaxy only a decade ago. After the Battle of Corellia, neither the federation nor the rebels could muster a sufficient force to truly threaten the Imperial fleet."
"Except for once, of course, sire."
Harcourt shot a stern look at Attean. "Yes, there was one last time. Now leave me in peace."
The Guardsman saluted his Emperor and left the room.
~On board the Royal Guard-class Star Destroyer Mark II Dark Phoenix, Six Years Ago~
The hull of the Dark Phoenix shook after another volley from the Mediator-class Battleship Lightsaber landed on its hull.
"Damnit, get us out of here!" screamed Admiral Harcourt at his navigation officer.
"Sir, the Mediator dropped a group of gravity mines just as the Relentless left the system. We're stranded!"
The Admiral cursed under his breath. He had gotten careless, spreading his forces too thin and walked straight into a rebel trap.
"Get Lord Squadron on combat patrol, NOW!"
"Sir, Lord Squadron has been completely obliterated," came the only reply.
Harcourt could only watch as another three Endurance-class Fleet Carriers exited hyperspace. Soon, their fighters joined the fight, whittling down the defenses of one of the most formidable and venerable ships in the Imperial Navy.
The Star Destroyer spewed turbolasers in every direction in a fruitless effort to drive off its attackers.
Suddenly, the Dark Phoenix simply exploded.
Admiral Jedidiah Harcourt, who had never previously lost a ship in battle, had been defeated.
~Super Star Destroyer Paladia Mors, the present~
The end of the memory startled the Emperor. He never quite understood how these past memories had been salvaged and implanted into his clone body. Nor did he care to know. In his experience, or rather his imported experience, it was best to simply live in ignorance and fulfill whatever role was destined for him - he did not care to look behind the curtain. At least, not yet.
