Hapan Battle Dragon Art of War
Alial Vist sat alone in near darkness in her lavish personal quarters onboard the Art of War. The admiral and newly-titled duchess seldom allowed others into personal chambers, unless it was to satisfy a carnal need. Advisors were not often needed, and certainly not in her personal space. Prince Isolder was one of the few who could enter her presence at will, perhaps for a game of chess or for conversation, but nothing more. Their's was a convoluted relationship.
But for the most part, she was solitary. She didn't feel loneliness, or didn't allow herself to feel it. And if she did feel it, she refused to call it that. Obligation, she thought of it. Responsibility. True relationships were something she had to forego out of necessity. Yet sometimes, it tugged at her...
Again, though, other needs arose. First, the Queen Mother Ta'a Chume's command: expand the Cluster diplomatically; increase it's influence over the galaxy. This would be done slowly. Alial knew it must be so. And she knew how. The Consortium's power was immense -- within the Cluster. Outside it, though, it would thin quickly. This was unavoidable. The Hapans were not conquerors; they were survivors. If necessary, they emerged, destroyed, and withdrew. Little else.
Alial was content with this. The Queen Mother, seemingly, was content with this. How best then to increase the Consortium's influence?
With traps, Alial smiled. With traps within traps within traps.
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The Battle Dragon Art of War fired thrusters to reorient itself against the stars, accelerated, and leaped into hyperspace for the little planet of Onderon.
