Captain Rivejer Tullius
Galantos was yet another underdeveloped, backwater world amidst the sea I had visited over these last two months. The only signs of development was a lightly armed trading station in orbit, a few orbital turbolaser batteries, and a refueling depot previously used by the local Black Sword Command garrison.
My fleet - or whatever remained of it in any case - slid from the dizzying miasma of hyperspace into the sleepy border system. Hidden away in my command quarter I could not see what the planet looked like, so the hologram would suffice for now.
Several of my ships were notably absent from the group and it did not take much thought to guess at their fates. A weight settled in my stomach, making me feel queasy, but I pushed it aside. This was the cost of war, or so I reasoned to myself. I pushed off the table - ignoring the phantom stiffness in my shoulder - and opened communications.
"All units, I want preliminary reports on your status within the hour. Colonel Bragg, Captain Lyons… Forward your loss reports as well." While they were not my men, I felt a sense of responsibility for their losses as I did for mine.
I closed the link with the press of a button, turning away from the table at last and moving toward the open blast door. With that barrier between the forward bridge and my domain removed, I was forced to contend with the state of my ship. The damage appeared even worse than I had initially thought during the battle.
The bow was not so much damaged as it was missing entirely - either crushed under the force of the impact or sheared off under our own turbolaser fire. I had not even considered then the fates of the unfortunate men located in that area, unaware of what was happening and dead before they had a chance to know. I brought my hands behind my back, clenching them into fists as I forced those thoughts back and away. It let my gaze drift up the Conqueror, studying the melted, twisted remains of the ship's upper layer of armor. Sections had been opened to the void, hallways barely visible from the distant conning tower.
The Conqueror was in ruins and realistically I knew there was no saving her - not without considerable cost. If I survived whatever fate awaited me at Coruscant, then my return to Arrowhead Command would likely not be a heroic one.
"Captain, a report from the engineering section." Screold's voice, terse and tired, came from behind. I turned to face the young woman, fighting back my own exhaustion as I accepted the offered datapad. As I read it over, she summarized its findings: "Our energy shielding is completely inoperable - the chief engineer emphasized that point; running them at all may make the damage worse. Particle shields remain operable, though they stress that using the Conqueror to ram other ships may change that fact."
I allow a thin smile to spread over my lips as I forward the information to my personal console - to be reviewed at a later date. I handed it back, the datapad accepted and slid under Screold's arms.
"And our casualties?"
"Still being tallied. We couldn't check sealed or vented sections while in hyperspace. We should have a preliminary report ready within the next couple hours."
"Good, keep me updated." I ordered, returning the woman's salute before she walked off. I turned once more to face my ship, to commit to memory the mangled thing she had become.
The hours and days straight I had spent on the bridge wore on me. Yet now that the worst seemed to be over, I felt ready to collapse. Beyond any horrific and unforeseen circumstance, the rest of our trek was a straight shot to Imperial Center. I doubted anyone would be foolish enough to try something this close to the heart of the Empire.
However, before I could take my chance to retire and rest, I needed to first make the rounds. My tram found its way to the primary hangar bay, finding the chaos of Maab's loot better organized and filed away. It seemed that, despite the battle raging outside, Maab and his men had busied themselves with tallying their earnings. Navytroopers, adorned in Army armor, made way as I passed - the density of bodies increasing the closer I got to my hangar.
The interior was as chaotic as it had been days before, the towering forms of the three Bakuran AT-AT walkers peering over the pile of cargo crates. Maab was still sitting in his hover chair, barking orders at anyone in earshot. He was warned about my approach by one of his functionaries, turning the seat to face me.
"Captain! Come to check up on us?"
"Yes, though it appears you are keeping a decent enough accounting of yourselves." I note, eyes drifting over the goods. Some crates had flipped or fallen, but the majority were untouched. The latest battle had largely damaged the Conqueror's topside.
"Ah, yes. We had some losses during the flight from Black-3, but I decided to get some work done during the latest escapade. Either we lived through it and this work would be done, or we wouldn't and then the work would matter a lot less."
The macabre perspective notwithstanding, I found the situation in the hangar more tolerable than the rest of the ship's status. I left Maab to his work, moving on with my cadre of guard-laden trams. Our next stop brought us to the main communications center, where I had - to my shame - left and forgotten Governor Nereus.
"Captain." Nereus greeted me as I entered the cramped room. "Respectfully, if this is how you treat your flagship then I would like to request I be ferried on a different vessel."
I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, Nereus was a difficult man to read. So, I merely offered the barest smirk and nodded my head in his direction.
"I will take any request your forward under consideration, Governor. You have my thanks for overseeing the ship communications."
"Yes, well…" The man muttered, turning his hawkish gaze over the diligent crew, "It is hardly my speciality."
"Thank you all the same. You stand relieved, Governor. Shall I have my security team escort you back to your cabin?"
He accepted the escort and a pair of Stormtroopers followed the man out into the hallway. The crew within the center relaxed slightly, evidently Nereus had been an exacting task master since his arrival in the office. I left after a brief conversation with the ranking officer, our network was fully operational once more and there were no immediate issues.
The trek ended at my cabin. There was no reason to visit Harand, if he had an issue he would let me know. So, I took the chance to rest - typically a heretical notion, but one I greeted with open arms. I dismissed most of my guards - though I had the distinct notion they were upset by the idea - and collapsed heavily on my cot. Sleep did not come easy and when it did it was far from restful.
It felt almost bizarre, how fast we were travelling now. With Galantos devoid of an Imperial garrison, we could leave the system a few short hours after our arrival. The entire route appeared devoid of a naval presence. Cal-Seti had a local patrol squadron and series of planetary defense stations, but it was clear that the orders from Paret extended to the entire Black Sword Command, even out here.
The first sign of a certifiable Imperial presence was at Alland - its shipyards were seemingly abandoned, but a patrol ship was hiding at the edge of the system. A Vigil-class Corvette; the moment it saw us enter the system, it left before we could get a word out. This was especially bizarre, as Alland was not within the Black Sword Command sphere of influence, why had Azure Hammer Command abandoned it?
The Alland garrison had no answers, only that one day the Imperial fleet had left - three entire Star Destroyers had been garrisoned at the shipyards. That was over two months ago - shortly after the death of the Emperor - not a response to the situation in N'zoth.
Norkonia was similarly devoid of answers, the Vigil-class vanishing into hyperspace once again the moment we arrived. I had begun to become concerned at the lack of Imperial ships, though that specific worry was chased away with our arrival at the last major world before Imperial Center.
Metellos was one of several dozen highly developed worlds located around Imperial Center. Not quite an ecumenopolis, Metellos was still a heavily populated industrial world on the doorstep of the Imperial capital. It being abandoned would have been absurd and it was slightly relieving to find a large Imperial presence in the system. The titular world of Metellos - technically Metellos-4 - was covered in a ring of massive defensive stations and ships. Ten Star Destroyers - a mix of Imperial-class variants and Tector-class Star Destroyers - grouped around defensible positions, but the core of this fleet was a trio of battlecruisers. Three massive Praetor II-class Battlecruisers, bristling with enough firepower to level my fleet without a challenge, sat in the orbit of Metellos itself.
I had to assume that Weblin had warned the Empire of what was happening in N'zoth, though the question became what he told them. If the Empire was expecting at least three Super Star Destroyers, then the present force would have been ill-prepared to beat them. However, I knew I was operating on limited information, so I opted instead to open comms. For reasons unknown, they were denying the requests to join their network, so I needed to shout into the void through open comms.
"Imperial fleet, this is the Conqueror. 2nd Flank Squadron, Arrowhead Command. Please confirm that you are receiving." I said, leaned over my holotable as I spoke. Silence greeted us, earning a frown from me. I glanced toward the communications officer, worried that our relay had gone down since Norkonia thirty minutes before. He shook his head- we were still online. So, I tried again.
"Imperial fleet, this is Captain Rivejer Tulius of the Conqueror. 2nd-" A squawk silenced me, one of the ships had invited me into the network - one of the battlecruisers. The Judgement had designated itself as the flagship, though the rest of the network remained unknown to us.
"Conqueror, this is the Judgement. We are receiving your communication. Maintain your current position and power down all weapons." A brusque, no-nonsense voice ordered, effectively silencing me. After relaying the order to my fleet - none of us had been foolish enough to power up weapons when faced with this force - I stood awkwardly at my holotable and waited for whatever came next.
We could not have been waiting for longer than ten minutes before a new voice entered the call.
"Captain Tullius, this is Grand General Malcor Brashin. Provide identification." I was taken aback by the new voice.
"Understood, Judgement, forwarding our fleet identification."
"Negative, Captain. Your personal identification."
That was strange, but I was in no position to refuse - and I was more than a little curious to see where this was going. I pulled a code cylinder from my tunic and inserted it into the table, letting the biometric scanner work before sending my code to the battlecruiser.
"... Good. And is there a 'Lieutenant Ashsca Screold' present with you?"
That brought me up short. I glanced at the nearest officer, Matread, who appeared as confused as I felt. I had expected many questions to come from the Imperial fleet, and none of them had included asking after Screold. It was not to say that I disliked the girl, or expected nothing to come of her career, but why was a Grand General - the Grand General, one of the leading figures in Imperial Center's defenses - asking about her?
"Uh… Yes? I mean, yes, General." I stumbled over my words, caught flat-footed before I managed to correct myself.
"Yes, General. Lieutenant Screold is on the bridge."
"She is to provide her personal identification immediately." I stared at the holotable for a few moments longer. Then, with a bemused exhale through my nose, I walked over to the forward bridge. The door opened, revealing its quiet chaos, but that fell silent as I raised my voice.
"Screold!" I called, making the woman turn to face me. She approached at my signal, her visible confusion matching my own.
"Sir?"
"Grand General Malcor Brashin is asking for you. Have you any idea why that might be?" I ask. Screold looked as surprised, momentarily silent as she thought. After a few moments, she spoke - her voice hesitant.
"... It could have been because of the probe." She said.
"Probe?" I repeated, lost. I had no knowledge of a probe being sent, which seemed to be the case for an increasing number of things nowadays.
"The probe you had us send? To warn the Empire about Paret's planned rebellion?" Screold asked, her tone earnest to a degree that I briefly wondered if I had ordered that and then forgot. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind, so I just nodded slowly.
"I see. The General wants to confirm your identity."
We returned to the rear bridge after Screold passed off command to another officer, gathering again at the table. She submitted her code cylinder to the table, letting it be activated by her biometrics. The data was beamed near instantaneously across the void separating us from the fleet, and a short few seconds later, General Brashin reported.
"... Good. Welcome to Metellos, Captain. You will be added to the BattleNet short-" He stopped mid-sentence, roughly at the same time my holotable received a range of new alerts. The Metellos fleet - the Azure Hammer Second Fleet, it was officially named - flickered from grey to green, recognized now as friendly.
Silence reigned on the other end of the line, and after a moment I wondered if we had lost connection. Then, Brashin's voice returned.
"Captain, there are a number of ships registered for Black Sword Command and the Bakuran Planetary Garrison among your forces."
That fact had not even registered in my mind before now, but my squadron was a patchwork of several different forces. The Ssi'ruuk - which I doubted Brashin knew about - were perhaps the strangest of this group, but the remaining Arrowhead ships were rivaled by the number of outsiders.
"That is correct, General. They have joined us over the duration of our travels." A heartbeat of silence followed my words, and then Brashin spoke with a cautious but stern tone.
"I see. Captain, I am requesting your immediate presence aboard the Judgement, to give your report in person."
"Yes, sir." I responded immediately, even as a shock of caution slithered up my spine, "Shall I have my written reports forwarded to you?"
"That would be acceptable, Captain. Brashin out." The line closed immediately after, casting my bridge back into silence. I glanced at Screold, who appeared as disconcerted as I felt, before drumming my fingers on the holotable. A part of me was sorely tempted to make as I had been and bolt. Brashin was not Teshik and I could use the Grand Admiral as a shield - I was likely in serious trouble as is. However, I doubted that Brashin was acting the renegade like Randd or Paret and refusing him alongside disobeying Weblin would be bad for my future health.
One positive thing: Brashin did not specify who I could bring with me.
My shuttle had been in repair, having been run ragged since Bakura. The Lambda-class shuttles were heavy, dutiful craft but even they had their limits. So, we were taking the shuttle that formerly belonged to Nereus, at least before Maab got his sticky fingers on it. It was a galaxy of difference between my military production shuttle and the far more classy Governor's ship. Leather seats, leather upholstery, a drink bar - of course, most of the niceties had been stripped when Maab stole the shuttle so as to make it better for cargo or transport duties. Still, I took the moment to relax in the gentle caress of the navigator's chair in the cockpit.
The cockpit was occupied by two pilots alongside the Stormtrooper Captain Talik and myself. In the back, another dozen guards sat in the twin rows of seats, composed of Stormtroopers and Navy Commandos. By some miracle, I had managed to convince Cardon not to tag along as he seemed to have made it his mission to join me on away missions like this. The less time I spent around that lunatic, the happier I would be.
The Judgement loomed in the forward viewscreen, though having seen the Armadia up close it was far less daunting. It was the same wedge-shaped design favored by Kuat Drive Yards, with a long ridge extended from the aft to roughly midship. Its weapon-ladden topside vanished as we dipped beneath the vessel, headed toward one of its shuttle bays. The interior was far more familiar, following design standards found on ships like my Conqueror. A half-dozen landing zones hugged the walls while a central path remained open. We were directed by the hangar controllers toward one of the two open spaces, technicians guiding us in. I saw through the viewscreen that two men, both in grey naval uniforms, awaited us at the designated spot.
The shuttle set down heavily, shuddering as the pilots inexpertly landed. With our arrival, I rose to my feet.
"Keep the engines warm. In case we need to make a quick escape." I said to the pilots, patting the headrest of the nearest one. I was only half joking, though I was of no illusion that escape was possible if this meeting went sour.
I moved from the cockpit into the short hallway that connected the front of the shuttle to its cargo bay. Though the interior of Nereus's former shuttle had been converted from its standard configuration, and then back again. The cargo bay had served as a state room for the Governor, though the bed and kitchenette were torn out to make room for two mirrored rows of seats. The drinks bar remained embedded in one wall, though its contents had gone mysteriously missing in the time since.
"We have arrived." I announced to the group unnecessarily. I stepped into the chamber and turned, the boarding ramp dropping to the deck below. Talik followed me in, gripping a handrail at the front of the room, standing over the ramp. Wordlessly, the group rose and four Stormtroopers moved down the ramp and to the deck below. There was a brief pride I felt at such a large security force, even if it was built less on the ceremony of my position and more the repeated danger I found myself in. Still, I preened myself - straightening my uniform and dusting at unseen dust. I walked down the ramp after the men as they took positions to create an alley for me to walk through. The rest followed me down in what I assumed was a mildly humorous show as more and more men piled out.
The two navy men greeted us and were immediately put on edge by our appearance. The higher-ranked officer - a Captain - stepped forward to greet me.
"Captain Tullius, the General is expecting you." As he spoke, his dark eyes traveled over my cadre of protectors, "Your… security will need to wait here."
"With respect to Grand General Brashin, I would prefer to have my security detail with me at all times. Or just a part of it. These have been a few trying months, you understand."
The Captain clicked his teeth together for a moment before letting out a tired sigh, shaking his head.
"Fine. You may bring some of them."
"Captain Talik, pick four of your men." I order the Clone, glancing over my shoulder. His helmet turned slightly, likely muted to the outside world as he spoke with his men. When we moved, four of them followed - moving in a double column behind us.
There was little time to take in the sights, though the Judgement appeared to be similar to all modern Imperial ships on the inside. Endless, featureless hallways with unmarked doors. Busybody crewmembers and security officers wandering this way and that, compared to the civilian-military hybrid that Black-15 was, this was more familiar.
We arrived at a conference room, a more private affair than larger briefing halls a ship like this would have. I wished I had brought more guards when I spied the black-and-gold armor of the Novatroopers. I was familiar with their organisation, and knew well enough that picking a fight with one was tantamount of suicide. They were one of a few elite arms of the Stormtrooper Corps, next to the Royal Guard or Storm Commandos. The Empire liked to use them on 'culturally or societal important worlds', one of which was Naboo. Every year, they would parade in Theed - I remembered my father taking me there.
I lightly shook my head, clearing old memories as I focused on the now. However good my Stormtroopers might have been, these Novatroopers would chew them up and spit them out, Clones or no.
We were allowed entry to the room, but my guards remained outside. Brashin did not extend that same courtesy, as another pair of Novatroopers stood at his back, rifles held tight to their chests.
"Captain Tullius." General Brashin greeted me, rising from his seat and returning the salute I offered before sitting down again. He gestured to the chair across the table from him, which I took with a bow.
"Reporting as requested, General."
Malcor Brashin did not cut the imposing figure that his contemporaries. Used to larger than life personalities, like Blitzer Harrsk, I found Brashin to be more subdued. Greying blonde hair combed back, completely clean shaven, with light brown eyes. His uniform - a similar olive drab to Maab - was immaculate, with only his rank plaque and command cylinders on display. However, I did not let his appearance lull me into a false sense of security. This man had been given the task of modernizing Imperial Center's entire ground defense network a few years ago. Even I had heard about it, as politically disconnected as I was in the Navy.
Brashin considered me with what I feared was a similar level of intensity, sizing me up as a threat. I had taken care to make myself presentable - fresh uniform, clean shaven, hair combed and all signs of exhaustion chased away as best as I could manage. Whatever he saw seemed to be satisfactory, as Brashin spoke without much fanfare.
"I have taken the liberty of giving a cursory review of your report, Captain. Frankly, I find much of it absurd - I wish to go over its contents with you."
I swallowed nervously, but nodded by acquiescence to his order.
We were in that conference room for the better part of two hours. Brashin called for refreshments after the first, but did not allow me a break. I recounted the events as they transpired to the best of my memory - I had enough stimulants pumping through my veins some days that they became a haze - and Brashin asked questions wherever he had them.
Teshik's survival seemed to be old news to him, which hopefully meant the Grand Admiral had made it and my word wasn't the only one about what had happened. He seemed especially interested in what happened with Randd.
"Did he mention who his allies were?"
"Did he say where they were meeting?"
"Was there anyone notable at Wrath Station?"
"Was the name 'Rax' ever mentioned?"
Unfortunately, I could offer little. Randd's continued survival went unmentioned, but it was clear something bigger was at play. It was not my place to know as Brashin did not elaborate, so I pressed on. The Ssi'ruuk were an oddity to the General, though proof I fought some unknown force sat in my squadron under the name Escapade, so denial was a tall order. The multi-week trek from Bakura to N'zoth was barely worth mentioning, but the events at N'zoth were of the greatest concern to Brashin.
As it turned out, he was here due to Screold's warning. However, according to Brashin, Pestage was convinced that Weblin was behind the planned coup, not Paret acting independently. Maybe he was right and both men were playing a con I didn't understand, but it seemed unlikely. Still, considering the size of the force Paret was organizing, this fleet seemed far too weak to do more than stall him. I did not mention this to Brashin, but it seemed the Grand General understood this as well.
"The Azure Hammer fleets are in no position to redeploy." Brashin let slip, but did not elaborate. There was a political storm in the heart of the Empire and it seemed even Brashin was sitting at its periphery.
The destruction of the Intimidation and presumed loss of the Armadia were a mixed blessing.
"I can't claim to understand what your superiors will have to say about the loss of one of their Star Dreadnoughts…" Brashin said slowly, a frown on his face. After a pause, he nodded his head. "But I can't argue with the results. If they are as damaged as you and your reports claim, then this force may be enough to finish these Yevethans once and for all."
I said nothing to this, my own thoughts on the matter not quite settled. I was thankfully not given long to consider the issue as Brashin sent a sympathetic look in my direction before speaking again.
"The issue of greatest concern in my mind is your cooperation with rebels." The word was spat with such intensity that I was briefly taken aback. I understood the disdain with their ilk - there was no lost love between the Rebel leadership at Bakura and I despite our agreed exasperation with the Bakurans - but Brashin's felt more personal, "Regardless of the situation. A greater degree of ideological purity would have been expected of you, given your position in the Navy and Empire as a whole."
Silence reigned for a few moments after that as I met Brashin's gaze, unsure if I should look away and feel ashamed. The situation at Bakura was one born of necessity and poor intel, I would not have willingly worked with rebels of any type otherwise. However, his words sparked in me a renewed concern. Finally, Brashin let go of whatever tension he was feeling at the notion and let out the barest sigh. When he spoke again, he was calmer.
"Few can deny the extreme circumstances you've been through, Captain. Whatever else the Admiralty says, your survival proves you a credit to the Imperial Navy and its training. For what it's worth, let me be the first to say: welcome back to the Empire, Captain."
"Thank you, sir." I responded, though his welcome did little to allay the fears that rose from the rest of his short speech.
A part of me wished I braved Praxlis and Weblin.