CC: Imperial March

[Medivh]

Besh Gorgon System
(formerly The Wheel)

Dozens of republic ships had appeared in the Besh Gorgon System, forming a heavy line as they advanced on the imperials.

Admiral Barc Anida had deployed heavy combat space patrol around his capital ships to protect from the Republic's fighters, and had deployed dozens of assault shuttles for a counter assault.

The first skirmishes were blistering, as the outlying fighters intermingled, even as the capital ships drew closer together but still out of range. Ships on both sides winked out of existence.

Then phase two, as turbolasers began spanning the distance, capital vessels giving and receiving equally.  The Imperial fleet was massive, due in part to the original strategy of the Empire.  However, the Republic's fleet, only a portion of the full fleet, was managing to hold its own.

It was a long battle, and after hours of fighting, there was a brief lull.

"Report"

"Admiral, we have heavy casualties.  We have some lost ships, and a number of vessels reporting hull breaches, lost weaponry, lost systems"

"In the next attack, order those vessels to act as decoys, draw the enemy fire away from our ships that are still functional"

The aide paused only a moment, before nodding his head

"For the service of the Emperor"

Just as the aide began to move away, another approached.

"Admiral, I have a connection from the Emperor"

"patch it through"

A moment later, a hologram of Emperor Schrag appeared before the Admiral.

"Your highness, we have engaged the enemy - the Rebel forces are strong, but we are a match for them."

"Withdraw the fleet"

"Sir ... I'm sorry - did you say withdraw?"
"Yes, Admiral.  We are to suffer no more casualties"
"But, with all due respect, we can have victory"
"And we will - but today, I have made an alliance that will make us stronger and more victorious in the days to come.  Save all ships and spoils that we can, but don't suffer any more losses.  am I clear?"

"Yes, your emminence"

The Emperor's image disappeared, and the admiral, confused, gave the new order.

"All craft - order an organized retreat."

TBC

[Syren]

Byss: Imperial Capital

Surface: Tarkin Academy

Barrett Trevaithan is sucker punched by a fellow student and staggers sideways as colorful spots appear in his line of vision. He adjusts then rights himself and dodges the second and third swings before spinning, landing a solid blow with his right elbow then twisting around to land another square in the jaw. His opponent springs back and flails before falling to the ground.
 
The fight broke out as Barrett was walking alone between classes. He didn't have many friends and loathed the pretense and swagger most of the students had. Everyone felt entitled to something. He just wanted to get through the day. The majority of the student body came from families who lived in the Emerald Splendor Estates and were fueled by the selfish stupidity that kind of money brings. Barrett is different, the one who does not belong. He is here by the grace of someone else's charity and that was something of a point of contention with his classmates.

That is when the other boys emerge, surrounding him. Barrett is lean but muscular, nearly fourteen, and in serious need of a plan. He clenches his fists and assesses the situation, surprised they would even stoop to his level to engage him. Most of them barely speak to him, let alone risk injury in a fight. It is then he feels it, like a bolt of energy that provides calm and clarity. He cannot explain it. It just is. Barrett is moving before the attack begins, casting off the flying fists as if they were nothing. He blocks and parries before striking back mightily. They go down one by one and in the end, he is the only boy standing. He does not know how it happened. He had always been scrappy and good on his feet but this was a level of coordination and skill outside his wheelhouse.

The campus security whistles are blowing and Barrett bolts as it begins to rain. It is late fall in the Imperial capital and he feels he is in for an interesting term.

*

Surface: Emperor's Citadel: Sith Chambers

Darth Erinbol is startled from a deep meditation. His dark eyes flash open as his mind seeks out the source of this disturbance in the Force. All children born within the Empire's boundaries are tested for midi-chlorian levels along with the standard vaccinations and examination. There had been few and far candidates that Erinbol had trained under him as Emperor Schrag saw less value in the Sith than Dementat had before him. He and Darth Kyja had been the pinnacle of dark powers and the galaxy had suffered a great loss with their tragic demises. He had not felt power like theirs until the Winton girl's signature called out to him six months ago. She had been identified and reported as Kyja's sister, Dahlia. This disturbance is similar yet closer, emanating from somewhere on Byss and the signature is human. A boy. How could they have missed this?

Darth Erinbol rises and moves swiftly through the chambers.

He would find source. 


-TBC

[Syren]

Byss: Imperial Capital

Surface: Tarkin Academy

Barrett Trevaithan eats breakfast alone in the dining hall. While most students commuted from other regions of the capital planet some, like Barrett, were boarded on site. The few others that were live on other Imperial controlled worlds or had parents who simply did not want to deal with them at home. His parents had died when he was an infant and after spending his early childhood in a rather unsavory orphanage, he was suddenly plucked from the masses and placed into the Tarkin Academy. The outrageous expense was mysteriously covered along with his upkeep which he had only recently come to question. He does not know much about his parents and had always assumed this was provided through some sort of inheritance.

No one has confronted him about the fight. The other students keep even further away from him than they did before which suits Barrett just fine. He is confused by what happened and tries to forget it. There is a projector at the far end of the room which plays the news channels throughout the morning. Tarkin Academy prides itself on raising disciplined yet informed students. He pays only mild attention to the somewhat sensational stories from around the galaxy. The most incessant is the breaking news out of the Republic about a pesky registration law for Force users. Everyone seems to have an opinion about it but most believe the Republic is becoming paranoid and mistrustful of the Jedi. His professors seem delighted with this progress as the Jedi are viewed as antiquated and ineffectual in modern society. Barrett has never really given them much thought outside the classroom where they have been discussed in history lessons. From what he understands, they had taken a much more secretive approach in years past and stayed largely out of the public eye. Now that appears to be working against them as the public believe they harbor some secret, mind-controlling agenda.

He shakes his head at the stupidity of a mob mentality. It reminds him of his own surroundings – the cliques, posturing and judgment – all from a bunch of stuck up little bitches.

The news shifts to more local stories; a murder here, a robbery there, and of course the Emperor's propaganda which touts their expansion efforts to combat the Republic menace. The student body was confused by the altercation at The Wheel. They had so completely destroyed the Trade Federation yet bowed out before serving the Republic any real damage. After what happened to the Moff Council, no one is going to question the Emperor's tactical decisions.

The reports then revisit a name he has heard a lot of in the past several weeks.

Dahlia Winton.

Apparently, her very existence is the bombshell of the season. At least that's what the entertainment commentators keep saying. Everyone knows the stories of the Winton family as they are tied so heavily to Imperial history. The love story that was Dementat and Darth Kyja. The Four and their sordid lives. The countless victims slain throughout the saga.

Deception, celebrity and horror!

It was all so stupid to him. Gossip was a needless distraction and one his fellow classmates could never help indulging in. Barrett doesn't have any friends so he is rarely bothered. He is about to turn away when they flash a picture of the girl in question. Dahlia is outside a courthouse, frozen with her head turned over her shoulder, staring intensely into the cam. Even injured and slightly disheveled, she is gorgeous. Barrett cannot tear his eyes away until the sound of his own name blaring through the com-system breaks the spell.

"Barrett Trevaithan, please report to the Administrative offices immediately."

He clears his tray and makes his way out of the dining hall with all eyes on him. Great, he thinks, someone ratted him out about the fight. The school was pretty strict about contact with other students given their family status. No one wants a lawsuit when little Tymm takes one to the face for being the spoiled shit he is. Barrett grumbles to himself as he ascends the stone steps to the ominous entrance of the Admin offices. It is not a fun place to be for a student. They only go there during registration or for disciplinary action. He enters and stops near the reception desk where the secretary stares straight ahead without blinking. She directs him to the Dean's office and he reluctantly enters. The Dean is a shrewd and hulking man in his late fifties who now stands on the other side of his desk in some kind of daze. The door closes and Barrett approaches the desk slowly. It is not the Dean who speaks but someone behind him.

"Welcome, mister Trevaithan."

Barrett whirls around, fists up and ready.

There is a tall, thin man dressed in a faded gray robe hovering above the industrial carpeting. He is older with ashen skin and dark eyes.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Darth Erinbol and I have not come here to hurt you."

"Could have fooled me," Barrett quips, not letting his guard down. "What's wrong with the Dean?"

"He's reviewing student files….at least in his mind. Forgive the theatrics but given your record this office is not entirely unfamiliar to you. It is the perfect place to meet without drawing any unwanted attention."

"Why would you want to meet me?"

Erinbol gestures as if it is obvious.

"You are special, young Trevaithan. Your performance in the fight is proof enough of that."

"Performance?"

"You have been feeling different lately. Stronger. There are things you are able to do but you don't know why. You single-handed bested a group of larger students using combat skills you have not been traditionally taught. You have a strength and dexterity that comes from somewhere…inside."

"So?"

"So, you are probably asking yourself how or why this is possible. I am here to provide you with those answers."

Barrett sneers, "Like I need answers from you. I don't even know you."

"You don't, not yet anyway, but believe me when I tell you we share a connection."

"To what?"

"The Force."

He laughs, "The Force? You have got to be kidding me, right?"

"Consider what you know before you deny the possibility. I felt you through the Force during that fight. Your signature led me right to you."

"What…signature?"

"Every living creature has a unique signature through the Force. Some are stronger than others and can be felt over great distances. Calling upon your connection to the Force, consciously or not, caused a disturbance. What I cannot understand is how we did not catch it until now. Most potentials are identified through testing during infancy but you, it seems, slipped through our system."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to be part of your system."

"Of course you don't. That's what makes you so intriguing. You are an outcast, lost in a sea of your own peers. They don't understand you and you loathe their arrogance. Search your feelings, mister Trevaithan. This place is not right for you. You deserve so much more. You need to be in an environment where you can be challenged and your skills utilized effectively. You are scrappy and clever yet you are stifled by a curriculum that does not serve your needs. The Empire cannot attain its true glory on the selfish whims of the idle rich. Everyone wants to find their place in these worlds. I am here to offer you a different option."

Barrett lowers his fists. The words have struck something deep in him, a yearning he could not put into words. He feels trapped here, unappreciated and bored. And above all else, he had been questioning much about himself. The strange power, an uneasy restlessness, and his uncertain past. He glances up and holds the dark gaze.

"What kind of option?"

Darth Erinbol smiles slyly.

"One that begins with the Carida Academy."



-TBC

[Syren]

Carida

Surface: Spinara Plateau: Carida Academy

Darth Erinbol delivers Barrett here under the cover of darkness. The jagged peaks surrounding them appear like teeth against the pale moon. There is a hasty meeting with one of Sith's contacts before he was whisked away. Erinbol's last words are that he would see him again soon. Barrett follows the contact across a courtyard and into a secure building which is revealed to be the student barracks. The academy's reputation throughout the Empire is legendary. It is where boys become men and men become soldiers. The kids at the Tarkin Academy had little desire to attend, given its harsh reputation for discipline. Some would not have a choice but most could avoid it with their parents influence and money.

Barrett accepted Erinbol's offer more out of spite than curiosity. He wanted to vanish from the lives of his stuffy classmates and explore another avenue of opportunity. Something strange and dangerous. The reference to a power he held unsettled him but he was interested to know more. First, Erinbol had said, he must become strong. The contact stops at a door and punches in a code. He is told to report with the rest of the cadets in this unit to the training center in the morning. Before he has a chance to speak, he is tossed a jumpsuit and shoved inside the room. He quietly passes sleeping cadets in bunks until he finds an empty one to climb into.

As he drifts off to sleep, Barrett wonders what he'd gotten himself into.


-TBC

[Syren]

Carida

Surface: Academy

The month had been a grueling mix of drills and exercises. No one ever said basic training was glamorous but Barrett finds comfort in the routine. There is no time for inane banter on the field, only to press on in spite of the fatigue. His unit is mostly male and varies in age yet they are all strikingly similar in the fact that they loathe pretense and seem to enjoy the structure the Academy program provides. He thinks he may be the youngest by a few years but isn't sure.

Physical training is woven in with the Imperial curriculum that would serve to complete the form college portion of their education. It is the equivalent of high school for the younger cadets as the Academy is primarily a university and training center. There are many areas of focus and study which are matched to the cadet's individual strength. For now, his unit remains in basic Storm training which covers a bit of everything but more than anything serves to break anyone of their problems with authority. Barrett keeps out of the way and channels the rage Darth Erinbol found so keen into each lesson presented. He has mentioned the Sith to no one, nor has he made a show of any abilities he may or may not have. He does, however, heed Erinbol's words of focus and clarity. It helps him to succeed where others fail, granting him high marks from the agents assigned to train them.

In the rare moments of free time, Barrett wanders around the Academy grounds. He maps the layout in his mind but always returns to The Great Hall. It is there statues of the Imperial legends reside. At the far end, of course, is Emperor Schrag who is well-known for his military intellect and ruthless political tactics. The extermination of the Moff Council last year is still a primary motivator for success. Fear often is. Other notable statues include Landon Price, a commander and alumni who gave his life destroying the Centerpoint Station before it could completely annihilate the Empire. This directive was issued by Darth Kyja whose statue stands beside Dementat's. He graduated from the Academy, she did not. But her sister did. Alexia Winton's statue is a bit further down the hall, past Moff's Tarkin, Kaine and Veed. The rumor is that Alexia never officially "graduated" but was pulled out of the Academy by Palpatine himself and used as a secret weapon against her own family and friends. The Event at Five Hundred Republica is a well known tale shared amongst classmates on Byss. Many stories from the ruins of Coruscant became whispered legends and cautionary advice to anyone who thought circumventing the Empire's influence and authority was a novel idea. The spectacular murder of five North Coruscant students at the hands of Alexia Winton to spite her sister and her scheming friends is not something to take lightly. Barrett finds it rather amusing as the story varies from person to person when it is told. How large the fireball was when D'Arcy exploded in a shuttle in front of her boyfriend or how long you could hear Skyler scream as he was tossed over the edge of the luxury tower. Serves them right. Melanie was working with the Alliance and Karen knew about it which is why they were made to suffer.

They say Alexia Winton was crazy, possessed entirely by the dark side of the Force. Barrett thinks she may have been given a bad rap by the media's fascination with The Four. Everyone loves a pretty victim. They are much easier to root for. This brings his mind back to Dahlia Winton and the photage on the Holo he had seen before he came here. Why can't he get her face out of his head? She was painted as a victim as well, one the media was more than happy to clamor around, but her eyes told a different story.

Barrett returns to the student barracks and joins his unit as the supper bell rings. Quentin Swire, one of the only cadets he could stand, falls into step beside him.

"Where ya been, B?"

"Nowhere, Q."

"You are always nowhere."

Barrett smirks, turning into the mess hall.

"Ain't that the truth?"



-TBC

[Syren]

Carida

Surface: Academy

"My name is Burke Pallus and they tell me you little shits are the best and brightest we have here. We're going to test that theory."

Barrett Trevaithan glares at the smug ISB Agent from the rigid line he and several other grunts stand in. It's true, they had been plucked from different squads to participate in the rotation training provided by senior officers and agents traveling in from other assignments. From what he gathers, being asked to teach here is a prestigious honor and he can tell that sort of thing goes straight to their heads. The first cadet is called from the line to spar with Pallus. He does not last long. Quentin is next and despite his efforts, Pallus bests him in short order.

He isn't sure how long he's been here - weeks, months - the days all bleed into one another. It's been an unending carousel of drills and exercises and courses. The history of the Empire, the hypocrisy and lunacy of the Republic ideal and the quest for galactic dominance. Barrett isn't sure who they are trying to convince. They are preaching to the converted. He's all for the Imperial way. Everything else just seems sort of lame. The Republic has always struck him as a revolving door. A few who oppose the order of the Empire break off into Separatists which then becomes the Rebellion or Alliance, depending on who's leading the charge. They unite to topple the alleged tyrants and once everyone is done cheering, they expand to the point of no longer being able to function at all. The democratic order they rallied so hard behind is rendered useless by bureaucracy. Barrett isn't the sharpest tool in the shed but he's smart enough to know that. The Empire is where it's at. 

Barrett had not seen Darth Erinbol since he arrived yet he knows he is being watched. He can…feel it. This is not something he can easily explain nor is he entirely comfortable with the concept of the Force. These things are hardly mentioned on Carida, despite some of their finest possessing these abilities. Fundamentals first, he supposes.

His name is called and he steps forward.

Agent Pallus has bested his classmates in the close-quarters hand-to-hand training exercise. The point is that not everyone can rely on a blaster or have the space to plot out an elaborate attack. Everyone needs to be ready to duke it out if it comes down to it. Barrett assumes a defensive stance as Pallus begins to circle. He faux lunges in an attempt to make Barrett react. He doesn't. Pallus reaches out and grabs his shoulder in a take down attempt. Barrett's adrenaline is rushing and the anticipation of the move forces him into action. He steps over Pallus' leg as he sweeps then angles back, twists his arm and throws him over his shoulder. Pallus lands on the mat but springs back, snaring Barrett's neck with his legs and drags him over in a barrel roll. The other cadets are now watching excitedly at an actual match.

Barrett struggles momentarily in the hold but slams his head into Pallus' groin, causing his legs to release. He rolls away and flips into a standing position. Pallus is upright as well, moving in quick. Barrett is immediately on the defensive dodging and slapping away at his fists as they attempt to make contact. It's as if he can see them coming in slow motion, giving him ample time to deflect. He catches Pallus' fist and spins inward, slamming his elbow into his face. This sends him reeling off balance and gives Barrett enough time to step back, turn and kick. Pallus tumbles across the mat, pauses then pounces into a tackle. Barrett falls back but throws Pallus up over him with his legs but uses the momentum to roll with him. He winds up on top, pinning his arms down with his knees, fist up and ready to strike when the whistle blows. The class is dismissed and Barrett stands, reaching out to help Pallus up.

"Not bad, kid."

"Not bad?" Barrett says. "I had you."

"You've got moves. I'll give you that. Now get going."

"Yes, sir."

Burke Pallus groans as he leaves the training room and ascends the stairs to the viewing chamber above. This is where the higher up's come to see potential without becoming a distraction. He enters the darkened room to find the Emperor staring contemplatively through the one way window.

"Your Highness."

"Excellent work, Agent Pallus. I've seen what I needed to see."

"The boy has skills. Much more so than any new cadet I've encountered."

"The Sith seem to think so."

"You do not believe them?"

"I've never been one to rely on their superstition," Schrag says distantly. "But in this case they may have a point. The future of the Empire depends on breeding capable leaders and one with Trevaithan's combat savvy along with a connection to the Force may prove advantageous against the Republic and the floundering Jedi."

Pallus smiles.

"I hear they have grown weary of their secrecy and anti-Jedi sentiment runs rampant within their borders."

"That it does. With any luck they will be expelled from their ranks and on the run. They are one embarrassment away from complete humiliation."

"We can help with that."

The Emperor nods.

"You have your orders."

"Yes, your highness."

Pallus leaves the room and the Emperor returns to his thoughts. Erinbol seemed hesitant to bring the Trevaithan boy to his attention but he is glad he did. That is not something he would admit publicly, of course but having a protégé ascends the ranks of the Empire would bring a certain sense of satisfaction. To Pallus' point, the Republic outrage over the "dark Jedi's" manipulations of some of its most respected citizens is true genius. The Winton girl knows how to pull off a PR stunt and she should given her lineage. The choice phrasing of "dark Jedi" in place of "Sith" was exactly the kind of fuel the public needed to run with the story. The quiet security the Jedi's mysterious presence once brought them is replaced with fear and suspicion. Civil unrest is something they so richly deserve.

The death of Adubell at the hands of Dahlia Winton does give him pause. Clearly the teenager is not to be underestimated. For an apprentice to slay their master is commonplace in Sith lore but the production of it all – the bruises and heart wrenching testimony – was simply inspired. Schrag had been wary of the Winton girl at first given that she appeared much like her vapid, socialite sister but she has proved herself to be quite the conniving asset indeed.

More alarming than anything is that after the Federation defeat in the Besh Gorgon system, the Corellian's swooped in to the save the day. Even though the Corellian's are stubborn and martyr's to the cause, that Ambassador Tacofer must have really sold it to them. Most wouldn't touch the Federation brand but the CEC needed a boost to really prove their entry into the Republic was worth the wait.

Then there is Rutherford Gellar. The titan had made quite the impression during his recovery aboard his command ship. He managed to be an authoritative presence without coming off as arrogant as so many of the Corporate Sector blowhards tend to do. He considers the investment into ChemiX a wise one now that they are going to require something special. He hopes Gellar's profit driven persona would not conflict with his recent attachment to his family's emotional well-being. ChemiX has had much success with Force vaccine and the painkiller Capra. These were intricately designed and potent drugs. The Imperial scientists do not have the brilliant minds behind ChemiX but have outlined a potential new cocktail that could help build the next generation of soldiers and spies. Stormtroopers were a spectacularly orderly distraction in terms of infantry and the special ops and covert agents serve a distinct purpose. The trick is infiltrating a larger organization or government. Bribery and blackmail isn't always as effective as it could be. Even the shadow ISB operatives, Max and Xam had problems controlling the subjects of their mind implants. There were certain complications and side-effects. They needed something that would inhibit natural functions like pain and fear in order for any implants to correctly modify behaviors. This would also serve to make their agents more effective, less prone to feeling anything other than accomplishing the mission. A ChemiX contract for such a drug would help immensely to further this goal.

One among many.

Emperor Schrag smiles deviously.


-TBC

[Medivh]

Bastion: Northern Imperial Stronghold


Two months had passed since the failed rebel assault on Bastion.  In addition to being a decisive strategic victory, it boosted the morale of the millions of individuals in the imperial armed forces.  What had been a slow withdrawal from the Republic border, losing territory little bits at a time had turned around immediately.  When the rebels lost, momentum shifted away from them, and they were forced to pull back their remaining forces, or risk being routed. Garqui, which had been under pressure from the enemy was relieved, Generis and Phaeda were reclaimed with almost no fight, and the imperials were pressing forward at Agamar and Ithor.  In a few months time, Bandomeer, which had been the key border world and the launching point for the Republic offensive, would be again in the thick of battle.

And again, the Empire would not press too far, too fast.  The young Winton girl had in fact begun doing as she had promised - damaging the Republic from within.  Emperor Schrag could hardly believe how successful it had been.  By pulling back from the Besh Gorgon system, where he would have had a small albeit important victory, he had set the stage for a republic attack that was doomed to failure.  The brightest and most powerful of the Republic - the jedi - were being ostracized, losing face, losing influence, losing access.  All thanks to his sith allies - Dahlia Winton, the sith woman Adubell, whom Winton had killed, and his own advisor, Darth Erinbol.

He watched with joy as the news was reporting the new actions against the jedi - being evicted from the basement levels of the senate building, and subject to even greater restrictions.  At the same time, Dahlia Winton, who was herself clearly connected to the force, managed to avoid any of the stigma her fellow force users were facing.  Her face was now plastered every few minutes on the holo-channels associated with teen celebrities and rising stars.

Yes, she had been good to her word, so far.  And with his continued passive-aggressive assaults on the Republic, they would continue to demoralize.

"I told you that we would be successful."
"Quite cunning.  The way you gained that captain's loyalty - the way he was made to betray his people"
"The Force has a strong influence on the week minded"

Emperor Schrag turned to face Erinbol

"How do I know you aren't influencing me?"
"You are not weak minded"
"So says you - how can I know for sure?"

Erinbol laughed. "The Lord Dementat, a powerful sith,  gave you command of his entire fleet.  If he thought you could be influenced - at all - thought you were weak, he would never have given you command."

"That is reassuring.  Then again, you managed to undermine an entire fleet led by the most powerful jedi of the day, all by whispering into the ears of one weak link."
"True - but it is not in our best interest to undermine you"
"For now"
"Your concerns are unwarranted, your emminence.  The sith have no intention of hurting your Empire."
"Maybe not mine, and maybe not now - but what when I am old and frail, or passed on? Who will rule after me?"
"Perhaps, in the absence of a biological heir, you would be in a position to decide who that person will be.  Make the decision now that will carry on your legacy for at least another generation, make the Empire even stronger"

Schrag turned to face Erinbol, his lips pursed in quiet frown.
"You think I should choose Winton as my heir, don't you?"

Erinbol shook his head
"Admittedly, she is suited for the task, and will be more so as the Republic begins to fold in on itself.  But her role in the demise of the Republic and the resurgence of the Empire must remain clandestine, completely, even within the Empire itself."
"But you do have someone else in mind?  You have someone you think will be suited to replace me"
"I do have someone who I think is suitable to serve under you, loyally, and take your place when you deem appropriate"

Schrag watched Erinbol, at first with an inquisitive look, then a nod as he understood.
"The Trevaithan boy"
"He continues to excel in his studies - and you yourself saw his prowess.  But even at Carida, he is only training to be an elite subject.  For him to be a leader, a ruler, he needs to receive more specialized training."

The idea of creating someone to replace him had its own negative implications, but Schrag - always a military man, and (to his knowledge) never a father would only be able to shape the galaxy for so long.  By setting up his heir, he had the chance to continue molding the galaxy even in his absence.

"Have the boy transported to Bastion.  I think it's time he and I met face to face"

"Of course, your majesty"

TBC

[Syren]

Carida

Surface: Academy

Barrett Trevaithan excels in his studies and training to become one of the top cadets in his class. He has earned the respect of the instructors and rotating Imperial agents who visit to teach courses. He has even won over the hardened Burke Pallus who had taken a special interest in his training. The other cadets scowl and hate save for his only friend, Quentin Swire. Together, they could rule this place but instead choose to absorb every last piece of knowledge from their professors. They both have a deep ambition to rise in the ranks and there are whispers the powers that be have taken notice.

The past month has been exceptionally busy but he always manages to catch the Holo reports in the evenings after dinner. Barrett has never been one for keeping up with the news but he figures it's better to be aware than in the dark. Word out of the Republic has been overwhelmingly negative which makes him smile. A week ago, the reports were flooded with their new obsession: Dahlia Winton. She made her debut after returning to Chandaar. The Winton name is a big deal in the Empire and people love to talk about what this could mean. There is no indication she is anything other than a vapid model but the way she gazes into the cam never fails to hold his attention. She carries herself with a confidence he appreciates. Given all she's been through, it's amazing she picked up those pieces and made a go at life in the public eye. He and Quentin agree they have a crush on her even if it will never happen in a million years.

The most recent report covers an explosion that killed a host of people. Speculation leans toward a terrorist attack but Quentin laughed it off as a transparent attempt to slay a Jedi and a mouthy Counselor that had been causing a lot of problems. Barrett wonders if the Republic would go that far. If so, there may be hope for them yet.

He leaves the dining hall and swings by the bathroom to wash his hands. When he turns around, Darth Erinbol is standing near the door.

"Creep much?"

"The time has come, young Trevaithan."

He sighs, "Meaning what, oh-cryptic-one?"

"The Emperor requests an audience with you."

"With me? Why?"

"You have shown great promise here. He has watched you from afar but feels it is time for a personal meeting."

"Does he now?"

"This is a great honor, one that should not be taken so lightly."

"I'm not," Barrett says. "It's just heavy, that's all. What do I even say?"

"Let him lead the conversation. He has great plans for you."

"I've heard that can mean many things."

"You are different, special. We must leave now."

He follows him out into the hall, "Wait, I've got to let my friend know I'm taking off."

"The Emperor does not like to be kept waiting."

"Where are we going?"

Erinbol levels his gaze, "Bastion."


-TBC

[Medivh]

Bastion: Northern Imperial Stronghold


Barrett Trevaithan's transport descends through the atmosphere, past the layers and layers of defenses protecting the planet, through clouds until the city appears below, growing by the minute.  Bastion's capital city was reminiscent of imperial city on Coruscant, with vast, impressive buildings shooting into the air.  The palace rises above them all.

The shuttle descends to a docking bay near the south-western corner of the complex.  It lands smoothly, and Darth Erinbol, without a word, leads him down the ramp and into the bay itself.
Save for light filtering through the opening, the bay is dark and empty.  That emptiness continued as Barrett was led into a corridor, dimly lit in emergency lights.

"Is my coming here a secret"
"The Emperor has plans for you, and it would not serve his purposes for those plans to be revealed"

They walked in silence through several more corridors, all empty, finally reaching a small room, empty save for a monitor, two chairs, and a table.  The monitor was huge, covering the majority of the far wall, and was streaming news from the holonet.

"Wait here"

Erinbol exited the room, closing the door and leaving Barrett alone to his thoughts.  This wasn't quite what he pictured when he thought of meeting the emperor.  Emperors had grandiose throne rooms, imperial guards.  Not dark rooms with holonet.

Time passed, and he waited, finally taking a seat in one of the chairs and watching the holonews.
Of course, the biggest story was the murder of Republic Speaker Shale Apteen, amidst giving an impassioned speech to justify the measures he had been taking.  The footage of the actual shots played every so often, but the discussion was focusing more on the follow up: the investigation into the murder, the chaos of unrest and brutality that resulted, and of course, the politics.

Analysts were discussing who would be chosen to be the next speaker of the senate in Apteen's absence.  He had served strongly for a decade, holding firm a republic made of many disparate parts.  But the recent tensions had caused huge rifts in the Republic, and finding a similarly strong and influential leader would be difficult.  Possible contenders had not even declared yet, but the news was intent on making guesswork.

One they guessed was Artemis Soldys, the war-hero and senator from Corellia.  The press pointed out that he was an outspoken opponent of the Force User Registration Act, and had made many enemies in the senate, but he was known for having the political savvy to navigate through the senate, having arranged for the Corellian Sector to join the Republic.  He also was presumed to have the support of the entire Corellian bloc, as well as others allied with him against the FURA, a good start, especially amidst the havoc.

Then there was his  opposite in the senate, Senator Ingrat.  Ingrat had become a strong ally of Speaker Apteen's in pursuing the FURA, and was chair of the Senate War Committee.  Ingrat  was constantly opposed to Soldys, and had been able to go around the Corellian's efforts to arrange for research at the centerpoint station wreckage.  Ingrat could easily line up a large bloc of senators to support him.

There were a handful of others as well: the local senator from Chandaar itself, a wealthy senator from Iego, a long-standing diplomat turned senator from Vena near the Hapan star cluster, and a well-liked senator from Mon-Calimari, with connections to the ship-building industry there.

Barrett listened to the pluses and minuses of each, not hearing the door behind him open.

"Who do you think should be the speaker for the Republic?"

Barrett turned, startled, and jumping out of his seat as he saw Emperor Schrag.

"Emperor Schrag, I apologize, I didn't -"
"Answer the question"

Barrett silenced himself, then turned, looking at the screen.
"Soldys is the most suited for the job of governing, but he won't get elected.  He is too much of an outsider, especially now.  Ingrat is strong-willed, but would be horrible at building coalitions. He would just stir up trouble.  The rest of the likely contenders - none of them have the kind of gravitas it takes to lead a huge group of politicians"

"So your answer?"
Barrett turned back to the Emperor
"It would need to be an unlikely contender.  Someone not tied to the current controversies on either side, but able to stabilize them."
"And who would that be?"
"I don't know. I don't think that person exists."

Schrag never looked away from Barrett.

"How should the Empire respond?"
"My first reaction would be to use the current chaos as an opening - swiftly attack the Republic while they are disorganized"
"Your first reaction?"
"Yes, sir.  The problem with that plan is once the Empire can be perceived as the worst threat, the Republic is likely to put aside internal issues and unite to fight the common enemy - us.  The Empire should wait - wait until the Republic is in total chaos.  Till it impacts their ability to defend themselves.  Then move in"

Schrag nodded.
"A prudent course of action - could it not backfire?"
"of course it could, your highness.  If the Republic finds the right candidate for speaker, who is able to end the unrest, we would lose our opportunity to strike when they are weakest"

"So again, what should the Empire do?"
"Whatever we can to make sure the Republic doesn't find a unifying figure.  Or choose one for ourselves"
"We do not control internal Republic politics"

Barrett heard the Emperor say that - but it seemed - incorrect.  His gut told him that the Empire did have internal connections.

"I would not be surprised to learn the Empire had ways of influencing the enemy from within.  The ability to establish a single individual to run the senate ... there is no reason even us, as their enemy, would not have a few openings into the process.  If we found those openings, use backdoor connections, we could either choose the individual ourselves, or create a candidate strong enough that any new speaker would need to listen to him."

Schrag again nodded, otherwise maintaining a poker face.

"I want you to find out which individual will serve that purpose for the Empire.  An individual we can control sufficiently, and who can wield necessary influence in the Republic senate.  You will have whatever resources you need, but you are not to leave the palace.  Do you think you can fulfill this task?"

Barrett nodded his head, the enormity of the task weighing in his thoughts. But if the emperor asked, you don't say no.  And the fact that the emperor asked him, a mere soldier - that meant something more than this brief exchange.

"Of course, your highness"

TBC

[Medivh]

Bastion: Northern Imperial Stronghold



Once he had made his selection, Barrett wondered how it had taken him so long to make it.

Senator Gil Leeds.  Of Contruum.
The world had a history of strong industrialization.  A decade and a half ago, it had fallen under the control of the Empire, and the Empire had established a strong, forceful presence there.  With the decline of the Empire, they had withdrawn, and the Republic came in, but the world still had imperial sympathizers.

Barrett had managed to do a fairly extensive psychological profiling of the man, and found he was perfect. The senator from Contruum was not overly arrogant or ambitious, but understood his role to be to make Contruum a more powerful contender - no matter who it was under.  As a senator, he was successful at lobbying for his world, and had made friends on both sides of the current debate.  He could effectively communicate, but at the same time, could follow his peers, if it was advantageous.

Contruum could argue about the importance of fighting against the Empire ... and could equally argue about the necessity of conceding against them.

He had prepared a lengthy report for Emperor Schrag, utilizing the data available, and was making his case.

"We still have contacts on Contruum, some that even work in Senator Leeds' office.  All we need to do is convince him that it is in Contruum's best interest that he run for the position.  Soldys will back him in a second if it means Ingrat won't get the seat.  Ingrat may, reluctantly, accept Leeds so Soldys won't gain power.  The rest of the senate will fall in line."

"And once he is in that position?"

Barrett smiled.

"Then we have our foot in the door. And we can start making changes the Republic should definitely have."

TBC

[Medivh]

Bastion: Northern Imperial Stronghold



Barrett Trevaithan had been upgraded.  No longer was he stationed in a cell-sized, windowless room with just a monitor.  Now he was in a cell-sized, windowless room with a monitor and a tactical board.  The board was in the center of the room, and offered a three dimensional holo-projection of the galaxy that could be zoomed in and out.  Additional light sources indicated the locations of imperial and rebel forces.

Barrett was paying particularly close attention to reports from Bandomeer, where imperials who had briefly made an attack in orbit, were now retreating up the Braxant Run to Garqui or the imperial fleet at Dathomir. He was swiping his hand through the monitor, grabbing a ping of light and moving it.  When he was finished, his orders would be transmitted to imperial high command for review and if approved, then obeyed by the fleet. If disapproved, the Emperor would make the final decision.

The Emperor entered the room, and Barrett stood up.

"Your highness"

Emperor Schrag's face was stern, emotionless, his voice stern and unforgiving.

"Your chosen speaker has rallied the rebels against us"

Trevaithan nodded.

"We have started to lose our gains along the border"

He nodded again.

"Apparently, your plan backfired."

"No, your emminence.  My plan is working out perfectly"

"Your plan was for the Empire to suffer"

"No, sir.  It was to continue with the same imperial strategy that you yourself implemented.  Which was to appear as less of a threat than we are.  If we combated the rebels, there would be a great war, but right now, they out resource us in every way.  But if we relinquish and lose to the rebels, then there is no war. And we cease to be the enemy."

"We need to lose the war?"

"No, your highness.  We need to end the war.  Let the Republic win a battle - a real battle - and then sue for peace.  The Republic won't know what to do.  We'll become guests of the Senate, and Speaker Leeds.  We'll be right in their heart.  We just need the right negotiator to convince them of our sincerity"


Schrag finally cracked a smile.
"Indeed. And I believe you are the best suited for the job"

Barrett looked confused as the Emperor handed him a datapad. "This was my own assessment for how the war should proceed.  See how it lines up with your own strategy?"

Barrett glanced down at the datapad, skimming it quickly.

"You already had the same plan"
"Yes"

He looked up at the Emperor "You were testing me?"
"I've always been testing you, youn Trevaithan.  I wanted to see if you were as cunning as you were made out to be.  You also have a convincing dialect.  You will be my emissary to the Republic.  Soon - in the coming months - we will sue for peace.  And the rebels, so self-righteous, will be obligated to agree."


TBC

[Syren]

Byss: Imperial Capital

Surface

Deep within the Emperor's Citadel, two of the most vicious Imperial agents tinker away in a classified lab. A search for either agent would turn up nothing. No bio, no dossier, no pictures. They are the phantoms of the regime and had been since before Dementat. Their experiments had yielded some interesting results through the years in a quest for one thing; a programmable soldier.

Clones were so basic. Droids too finicky. The Guri Project was a significant step in the right direction but certain variables still caused both PHAGE and the Infiltrators to lose focus of their primary objectives. Early versions of the brain implants resulted in too wide a variety of results. While Tenley Price remained stable and obedient until her end, the Hapan Admiral, Rana Ohtar, faired far worse. Not everyone was susceptible to the stimuli. The later generations, utilized on Centerpoint Station during the Confederation, worked well for a time but in the end were exploited.

That is why the agents known as Max and Xam suggested a partnership with the only company with the biomedical research to pull it off. Emperor Schrag had seen tactical advantages in having potential sleepers at Imperial disposal. Therefore, Rutherford Gellar was rescued and rehabilitated aboard Schrag's command ship, released back to the Corporate Sector for shares of his company, ChemiX, and leverage to obtain what they desired. The order was given and facilitated through their CSA liaison, Vex Sienna.

Ibellum, as the serum was dubbed, utilizes nanotech as a brain-computer interface (BCI) with the ability to upload data from anywhere in the galaxy into its host. The nanomites could alter brain signals, amending both personality and muscle memory to the given specs. Once the host was activated, they would carry out their assignment without question or qualm then all traces of these actions and memories could be wiped away, leaving the host intact but unaware.

No emotional consequences.

Manufactured ignorance is bliss.

Of course, there were several losses among the early test-hosts. There is always sacrifice in experimentation and those sacrifices are necessary for advancement.

Max and Xam had to work out the kinks of the interface, uploading and overlaying traits and skills without frying the host's brain. The first two had bled out through their eyes, nose and ears. Messy but telling. The third suffered a brain hemorrhage so severe it practically burst through his skull. The forth proved more promising and was the key to perfecting their methods. The sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth smoothed out the controls and lucky number ten, the first post-beta host, now sits with the Sith advisors. The Emperor doesn't entirely trust Darth Erinbol and requested a sleeper in the event their council displeased him.

However, Erinbol was useful. They needed a Republic host but had yet to find a suitable subject that wouldn't draw the wrong kind of attention. Janessa Kain's name came up more than once as she had been made to do wicked things. Unfortunately, she was already flagged by the RSB. Her movements and motives would be questioned. A handful of Senator's, including Artemis Soldys, were briefly considered and discarded. A Senator would pose too great a risk. The tech had not been field tested for longevity. A Senator's meltdown would cause alarm but a model's would make for fantastic gossip yet still seem organic. Something people expect. From the intel Erinbol received from the Voss-Ra on the Winton royal, the assassinations of Counselor Prescott and her Jedi companion had been committed by a simple yet beautiful girl under the Sith's influence. Her mind was pliable enough to be forced into committing acts of treason and murder.

This impressed the Emperor and excited Max and Xam.

The pretty girl could cause all sorts of mayhem and still be adored.

They arranged for the serum to be transported to the Voss-Ra disciple on D'ian who then ensured Dahlia Winton would discover it. They could not communicate directly therefore a series of clues led her to the challenge, one she completed more promptly than anticipated. The bio signals for Quinn Cavanaugh poured into their systems and were then filtered and categorized for programming. They had their Republic host, a host that could go nearly anywhere she pleased. Moreover, Dahlia would have a partner who would remember nothing in the end.

Max's fingers glide across the keyboard below a swirling map of Quinn's brain. So simple, streamlined and sweet.

They would take great pleasure in defiling it.



-TBC

[Medivh]

Bastion: Northern Imperial Stronghold


Planning to lose was an art.  It required just the right amount of finesse.  Fight too hard, and you may actually win. Play too weak, the loss seems inauthentic, staged, and leads to suspicion and questions.

We couldn't have that.

Barrett was analyzing the make-up of the fleet that had retreated to Garqui from Bandomeer.  An imperial star destroyer had been successful in holding off rebel counter-attacks until the rest of the fleet got away, but at a cost.  The massive ship had suffered significant damage, making it only about 60% combat ready, and its fighter compliment had been all but destroyed.  The rest of the ships included two victory star destroyers, and about two dozen smaller ships, supplemented by a number of starfighter and defensive platforms that had been constructed in orbit.

The ISD was kept present at Garqui to bolster the fleet, construction crews scrambling to repair damaged weapons and systems.

Perhaps not as effectively as they could have. 

High command had been very reluctant to keep an imperial star destroyer so close to the front line when it was in such a vulnerable state.  Why not replace it with a more combat ready vessel?  But the Emperor went with Barrett, leaving him doubly satisfied that the Emperor chose his strategy over theirs.

Reports had come in from Garqui of rebel spies and scanning vessels.  Barrett responded by ordering the construction of a half dozen Golan platforms.  Expensive to be sure, and formidable when completed.  But once the rebels saw the defensive steps being taken, they would strike, and strike hard, long before the Golans were able to fight back.

Building Golans instead of capital ships also would tell the Republic that the Empire was moving to a defensive posture.

Barrett was reviewing the schematics for Garqui's defense, when an aid rushed in.

"Sir"

It was a recent change - him being called 'sir', or him having underlings.  His official title was 'Special Advisor and Envoy' an ambiguous title that told no one anything, but gave him a great deal of authority.

Barrett turned to the aid, three years older than him.  Barrett had learned that in the Empire, respect came with fear.  Make it clear who was in charge.

"I don't believe I gave you permission to enter"

The tone was even, cool.  It was not about being petty - it was about asserting the command order. The aid seemed even more flustered.

"I'm ... I'm sorry, sir.  Special Advisor, sir.  I .."

Barrett cut him off - it was already clear why this individual was NOT advancing.

"Remember for next time - get to the point"

"Sir - the rebels have attacked at Garqui."

Barrett nodded his head and dismissed the aid, waiting until he disappeared before letting himself smile.

Just wait till High Command saw what he had in store.

TBC

[Medivh]

Garqi

Garqi was a mostly agricultural planet in the outer rim of the galaxy, about halfway between the Hydian Way and Bastion.  It was fairly deep in the heart of imperial territory, and a launching point along the Braxant Run straight to - and from - Bandomeer.  From a strategic standpoint, it was the main point of offensive into the Republic, and a key defensive position for the Empire.  After the Republic had attempted to bypass Garqi in its assault on Bastion, and after the utter failure there, Garqi became a focal point of attention. It had to be taken if any attempt was to be made to rout out the Empire from the Repbulic's northern border.

The world's increased significance had also resulted in a stronger defensive fleet present, augmented with the forces that had retreated from Bandomeer only a few months ago.  Extensive repairs were being done on the damaged ships, and new defensive platforms were mid-construction.

That was the setting as the Republic made its assault on the imperial-held world.

It was no small force: A half-dozen corellian cruisers exited hyperspace with their support craft, including two-dozen corellian corvettes, five Mon-Calimari MC-60s, an array of other capital craft, not to mention a variety of X-Wing, Y-Wing, A-Wing and B-Wing fighters.

The outer comm relay was taken with only a minimal fight, the imperial ships moving into a defensive position.  Closer to the planet, the behemoth that was the Imperial Star Destroyer was covered in scaffolding as it underwent repairs.  According to republic intelligence, the right side had lost most of its weapon-firing capabilities in the last battle, a fact confirmed as it was the left side that was facing out toward space.

A full gross of republic fighters and bombers skirted around the imperial capital ships to sortie with the combat space patrol around the ISD, letting loose dozens of projectiles into the vessels hull.

Further out, capital ships collided.  In terms of numbers, the Republic and the Empire were almost evenly matched.  Had construction on the Golan Platforms been completed, the Republic would have a much harder chance of succeeding in taking the planet. As it was, those platforms were still only half-completed shells, and only cursory, temporary weapon emplacements were any threat from there.  The battle was a spectacular display of death, destruction, and fireworks, as imperial ships and republic ships exploded.

The CSP around the ISD was dwindling, and the massive vessel was beginning to show signs of damage.  With a roar, the ISD's engines burned to life, the scaffolding around it shaking away as the ship began to move.

More republic fighters were suffering as weapons fire increased from the destroyer, a sign that whatever was functioning was being activated.  The vessel pivoted and turned, now facing space and the republic fleet.  Like a two-faced monster, the star destroyer had significant contrast between one side and the other. One side had the smooth, sleek, deadly look of a star destroyer; the other, a patchwork of metals that were meant to serve as temporary replacements while the hull was being repaired.  Weapons batteries, even as they fired, were more exposed than ever before, and a scar of damage could be seen in several places.  But it was the largest class of ships in the galaxy, and certainly one of the most deadly.

Republic forces began to shift, preparing to deal with the more severe enemy, taking hits from lighter foes and responding with only auxiliary weapons fire..

The ISD belched out a spread of torpedoes, and that moment of pause between one target and the next ended, orbit erupting into back and forth fire.  republic starfighters emptied their payloads on the ISD, returning to their carriers for replenishments before heading back out.  Imperial vessels targeting those carriers to reduce the fighers effectiveness, other imperial vessels involved in heavy fire with the corellians largest ships.

THe corellian largest of the cruisers, the corellian dreadnaughts moved forward to take on the imperial star destroyer, and anything in between became quick debris, adding to the field of scrap metal that was forming.

One dreadnaught was gone, the second taking a heavy beating as chunks of the ISD fell off the vessel.

Second dreadnaught obliterated, the third now being targeted.  Firepower from the ISD was beginning to show signs of slowing, as damage that had just been replaced to its systems seemed unable to handle the new onslaught.  Ion cannons were fired at the star destroyer, as if only to make matters worse.

The third dreadnaught fell under the ISD's onslaught, but a fresh wave of bombers came in, targeting the ISD's vulnerable command bridge and letting loose.  Sparks flew, and the ship stopped firing.

A few more hits, and additional chunks of the ISD came apart.  And with a final barrage of fire from republic vessels, the ship imploded on itself, then a series of small explosions rocked orbit, sending additional damage to nearby ships.

With the Imperial Star Destroyer out of the way, the battle turned in favor of the Republic, just barely.  It had been costly, losing three full sized dreadnaughts and dozens of fighters and bombers.  But it had been worth it, and necessary, for the Republic to hold back the Empire, prevent them from strengthening their hold on this sector.

The remaining imperial ships, dwindling slowly, began to retreat, falling back to Bastion to tell the Emperor what had happened here.

The Republic, meanwhile, began to process of securing the world for themselves, and letting Chandaar know of their victory.

Hard fought, and well won.

Sure.

TBC

[Medivh]

Bastion: Northern Imperial Stronghold



Imperial High Command had protested with the Emperor that the young, inexperienced  Barrett Trevaithan had set up the Empire to fall.  Tehy objected to the imperial star destroyer being left at Garqi after it had already been severely damaged, and had all the more to say when Garqi fell to the rebels, the imperial star destroyer turned to scrap metal, and new pressure felt on a dozen worlds along the Braxant Run, all left vulnerable by the now deeply held position of the enemy.

Agamar. Phadea. Generis. Ord Canfre and others had reported rebel scout ships in their systems, and small raiding parties aimed at weakening defenses one by one and disappearing before reinforcements could appear.  It was a tactic the Empire had used until recently.

There were also reports from the Southwest, that worlds in the Deep Core portion of the empire were also beginning to see signs of rebel scouts.  The Empire's border had grown long and thin and in various places was weakly defended.  According to reports from throughout, only the very core base of the Empire, where Bastion was located, and the area around Byss itself, were still heavily enough defended, while the imperial fleet was spread out.  Even newer holdings further south - worlds conquered far from the meddling rebel hands - had not bolstered the Empire's standing much, as those worlds needed defense from the lawlessness and piracy that plagued the southern hemisphere of the galaxy.

And still, Emperor Schrag seemed to follow the advice of Trevaithan.

They decided for the good of the Empire, they had to take matters into their own hands.

With an armed contingent of two dozen hand-picked stormtroopers, the members of the high command moved through the bowels of the imperial palace on Bastion, heading to the tactical room where Barrett Trevaithan did his work.

With luck, the encounter would be short, with no link back to them, and they could go on with the work of repairing the Empire.

They reached the solid durasteel door.  First, the door was locked.  Blasters raised and fired, and finally, after much convincing, the door gave way, hissing open.

The stormtroopers filed into the room.

Inside, a dozen monitors were displaying the broadcast from around the galaxy, and in the center of the room, a holo-projection.  Barrett was nowhere to be found.

The troopers were about to leave, when the holo-projection began to shift, zooming in.

"Commander, you had best come see this"

The top-brass shuffled into the room after the troopers, watching as the holo board zoomed in on Bastion, displaying the planet's defenses in imperial blue.  Then they saw a blinking red light, indicative of enemies.

"it says there are enemies on the surface of Bastion - but how can that be? we've had no reports"

THe image zoomed in further, and they could see a schematic of the palace itself.  Various blue dots scattered throughout, and still, a clump of red dots.  The room grew quiet as it zoomed in further, the red dots were clumped in a single room deep in the bowels of the palace.

"Commander - the red dots ... it's us.  WE are the enemy."

The holo-image showed dozens of blue dots moving closer and closer to the position of the red dots, and suddenly, they heard the whine of blasters being charged behind them.

"Drop your weapons"

THe commanders turned to find nearly 50 elite guards standing at the door, weapons raised.  Outnumbering their stormtroopers by at least 2-to-1.

One by one, the commanders, and their trooper squad dropped weapons to the floor.  That was when the monitors on the wall changed, showing instead of newscasts, the face of Barrett Trevaithan.

"You should have trusted my judgment.  But I knew better.  Your arrogance has blinded you to see what I am doing is best for the Empire.  And therefore, you will no longer be of use to Emperor Schrag.  You don't have the vision needed.  And you tried to destroy the ones who did.  By the authority of Emperor Schrag, I convict you all of treason and sentence you to death"

The screen went dead and the commanders looked, horrorstruck as the elite guards opened fire.

******************************

Trevaithan turned away from the comm unit and faced Emperor Schrag.

Your highness, we should leak these deaths to the rebels.  Let them know you acted against your commanders with poor advice.  And then order me to send the message to the repbulic, asking for a meeting.

Schrag nodded his head, his mouth upturned in a tight smile.

TBC