Commander Rius Harand
I was among the few that truly understood who Rivejer Tullius was. He had fooled many, wearing a dozen masks to fit every situation and fool every person he met. But I knew the truth, if only because I had known him for the longest. Before he had developed these facades. I had been fooled in the early years of our working relationship - he had acted the part of an aloof, formally trained officer well. However, the truth was revealed eventually.
The first and most obviously false was the nervous disposition he hid behind, presenting a well-meaning and affable busybody. Anyone fooled by that personality was hardly worth the effort of speaking to, especially given how inconsistently Tullius presented it. The dull and unaffected presentation vanished the moment he was threatened, or else something exciting happened. Battle was perhaps the most obvious example, when the next mask came up. Frothing rage, suicidal bravery - this one was perhaps the most real of his pretend personalities. Tullius revelled in battle and violence, something I first witnessed over Iego all those years ago. The events at Endor and his flight to the Core just compounded that fact.
There was a third layer, however - one I had rarely seen but still knew to exist. A cold, calculating cruelty that hid behind these many masks. Screold believed Tullius to be a dutiful officer whilst Matread believed him to be an unhinged madman, but I alone knew the truth. Tullius was calculating and rarely let anything escape.
So, when he called me to the bridge of that ancient Battlecruiser, the Glorious, I was worried what this meeting would be about. He had made no inclination that he was aware of the meetings between myself and the other senior officers, plus Screold. He knew, though. I was as certain of that fact as I was the rising of the sun in the morning.
The quartet of Deathtroopers - those deathly silent bodyguards that now shadowed Tullius everywhere he went - stood at the elevator door we took to reach the main bridge. Two of them were scanning the bridge, their helmets turning slowly as they did. A third stared somewhere ahead, probably at Tullius. The last, though? That one was staring at me and making no attempt to hide the fact. The expressionless eyes of that helmet bore into my back and met my gaze whenever I chanced a glance back. If Tullius wanted me dead, he would need only a gesture to make it so. Who was there to stop him?
Teshik had thrown his support behind the newly-risen Commodore - for why else would a Grand Admiral spring Tullius from ISB custody? CompForce had put Tullius' name in their 'Heroes of the Empire' newsletter, drawing more positive attention to him. Yet perhaps the most concerning was the nature of his promotion. His orders, his rank, were courtesy of the Grand Vizier himself.
Yet, the order never came. Tullius continued to speak with that same unaffected, calm tone - as if this entire interaction were business as usual. I waited for the other shoe to drop, but it never came. What did occur was something I had not expected, Tullius reflecting on his tactical ability. He had always been a creature of habit, taking the worst lessons from Blitzer Harrsk and his time with the ORSF. I wagered it was an issue that arose from that aggressive personality he maintained in battle. He longed to get stuck in, to close the distance like some galavanting hero from a story book. That such tactics were successful - especially given the state of the Conqueror - was a miracle in and of itself. Still, this ability to admit his faults and that he was anything other than correct made that hidden conniving side of him all the more concerning. I still was not completely sure Tullius wasn't just using this as a test to trick me into bad mouthing him, so I opted for the safer option.
"As you say, sir." I demurred, watching Tullius begin his usual pacing around the holotable. There was more room around this one, meaning there was less chance of another officer wandering into Tullius' path. He was a creature of habit and this pacing was one of them. The rear bridge crew had long since learned to keep clear of the holotable when Tullius began his pacing.
If Tullius heard me, he gave no indication of it. One hand reached out to brush along the lip of the holotable as he walked, then rose to his face. Tullius' frown did not change, so I couldn't tell if he found its ostentatious design enjoyable or not. He continued unbidden.
"Unfortuantely, Harrsk's entire doctrine was based around massed capital ships. It is unlikely I can gather the numbers needed, little more than afford them. I will need to consider alternatives."
I looked past my fear for a moment and focused on Tullius' words. He and I came from different schools of thinking, though we started in the same place. The ORSF did not, or rather could not, field vast quantities of modern Capital ships. In this case, Imperial-Class Star Destroyers. It was reliant, in those instances where opponents actually sought to fight the organisation, on swarms of Frigates and Cruisers. Tullius had adjusted those swarm tactics to work with Capitals, but my thinking was more in line with Mils Milgern. Packs of ships operating independently; a consecutive series of hammers to strike against a heavy anvil.
A thought flitted into my mind and I realised with dawning certainty what Tullius was doing. This was a test, a chance to prove my loyalty. He was aware of my attempts at treason, of course. If not from Screold, then any of his multitudinous loyalists aboard the Conqueror. However, he was canny. My death would mean replacement and with the Empire in its present state, that was easier said than done. Instead, I was being presented with the opportunity to return into his good graces and showcase my usefulness in this new paradigm. I licked my lips but remained silent, not wishing to make some false promises or else appear as if I were trying to influence him. Tullius had not bothered to look back, fiddling idly now with the array of controls on the holotable. When he spoke again, the topic shifted once more.
"I will need to select a Captain for the Glorious." He announced. This was expected as well. Despite his typically hands-on manner of command when it came to the Conqueror, the last few months had proven the need to delegate and focus on the tactical side of combat. Tullius could not micromanage his flagship while commanding the fleet at the same time. The most obvious answer was to select a Captain from the Conqueror's staff, however the list of people capable of the job was indeed short. While most of the bridge crew were veterans of the Clone Wars, many were specialised toward their specific duties. They had neither the want nor capability to command a ship of this size. That left three names - and none of them were particularly good.
The first - and most obvious - was me. I had the most experience in commanding a ship and had spent my career in Arrowhead Command ruling the secondary bridge. However, I had little interest in taking over the main bridge of the Glorious. Beyond forcing me into closer proximity with Tullius, my skills had always lay in management on the tactical side. It was why I acted as his second in matters of fleet command, whilst Screold always looked over the ship itself.
She was the second option but, while she had proven her competence, she was young and had an issue with her self image. Bereft of confidence might be another way to describe Screold's interpersonal interactions, borne of her quick ascension and those that surrounded her. Being cut loose to command while getting out from under Tullius' direct control would help her build that self confidence, but not all at once.
The third was the least likely of us all, despite his advancing age. Wyatdrew Milgern was a veteran among veterans, having flown from the Stark Hyperspace War to the final days of the Clone Wars. The ponderous man was well-liked, competent and confident - but he was a fighter commander. He could command well enough, but his interest and skill lay in the management of his fighters. Pair that with his objectionable politics and Tullius' recent arrest - whatever happened there - and Matread rising to Captain was not very politically expedient.
The choice would have been difficult, were it not for an obvious solution that cropped up shortly before Tullius' return to the fleet. Mils Milgern, now formerly the Commander of the Intimidation, had the experience commanding ships of this size and the formal outlook Tullius lacked. I had reached the most obvious answer and realised Tullius must have already for he was silent for the entirety of my introspection.
Tests within tests.
Proving myself useful would be a challenge, I wagered.
"What about Commander Milgern?" I asked, keeping my tone level.
"Milgern?" Tullius asked blandly, turning now to face me. He wanted me to justify the answer, rather than just give it. To prove I understood why he made the choice that he did.
"Well-to-do and competent. He was trained in the application of various schools of thought. He has the experience from commanding the Intimidation and the respect of his crew. Respect he could easily build among your usual staff."
"He did lose his ship." Came the mild - and expected - response. The kind of question someone might ask if they wanted Milgern's position justified. I had already been planning my counter in preparation.
"Through no fault of his own. Indeed, had it not been for the situation prior to the loss of the Intimidation, he would still be aboard her."
Tullius hummed, turning to face the holotable again. It was on, showcasing a scale representation of the Glorious. The bulky battlecruiser certainly cut a striking figure.
After a long moment of silence, I feared I may have spoken wrong. My words could have been misconstrued as an indictment of Tullius, claiming that the blame lay with him for his arrest. My fears were dashed, or at least assuaged, when Tullius spoke again.
"Milgern it is, then. When you return to the Conqueror, send for him, would you?" It was a dismissal, so I saluted him and left the bridge. I fought down a shudder as I passed the guards.
Commander Mils Milgern
"It certainly is… expensive." I said, standing on the Glorious' main bridge. It radiated the kind of overwhelming wealth Kuat prided itself on before the start of the Clone Wars. I was a man of creature comforts, but the ornate curvature and ostentatious presentation did not mesh well with my perception of what a warship was supposed to be. The Intimidation was harsh, angular. It looked the part of a Star Destroyer. The Glorious' many rooms gave it the appearance of a luxury liner at times. A clear reminder if ever there was one why this ship was left behind for more modern designs.
"More than I am used to." Commodore Tullius agreed, stepping up next to me to look over the forward second of the bridge. I fought down a shudder, fearing the direction this conversation would take. I had not spoken to Tullius since his return to the fleet, busied with affairs as he was. The news of the Intimidation was taken and filed away for later, while I was dismissed to one of the Conqueror's officer quarters. I was lost in my depressive funk at the time, too much so to consider that there might have been some form of consequences for the loss of my ship. Could I have fought harder? Held on until Tullius arrived?
But it was gone. My ship was gone, taken out of my hands by some pompous, self-aggrandising, arrogant-
I took a deep breath to calm myself, then let it back out. I would not disgrace myself and act in so base a manner. I focused back on the here and now, turning to face my Commodore.
"Why am I here, sir?" I did not like to bandy words and, if my understanding of Tullius was correct, neither did he. He was a direct man: if he wanted to exact punishment I would not waste either of our time and delay it.
"Commander Harand did not inform you?"
"He did not."
Tullius hummed, sweeping by me and moving to the forward view screen. I joined him, looking out over the Glorious from its bridge. Already, Kuati droids were scuttling over the surface, beginning the arduous process of modernising the cumbersome thing.
"Commander, what academy did you graduate from?"
"Prefsbelt, sir."
"Eriadu myself, but I've heard nothing but good things from Prefsbelt." He was understating it, of course. Prefsbelt was to the Navy what Carida was to the Stormtrooper Corps. Officially its location was classified, but everyone knew exactly where it was. It was a proud moment to graduate from that academy and I was prouder still to be brought into Arrowhead Command. There was a time where I was bitter over being placed under what I viewed as an Outer Rim rube like Tullius. However, I eventually came to respect him. He was an aggressive lunatic, but he wasn't incompetent or oozing arrogance.
"In all my time at the academy, I never thought I would command a Star Destroyer. Eriadu was a pipeline to the ORSF; we don't get Star Destroyers. At least, nothing modern. It was an honour to take command of the Conqueror. She served me well." Tullius spoke, his voice almost soft now. "It is painful to see her go, not destroyed in a final charge against a superior enemy but instead picked clean of parts. However, I can take some solace in the knowledge that I will likely be the last officer to command her. That her service as a warship ends here. Commander, I am… Sorry, for what it is worth. The Intimidation was still pristine, still raring for more battle and she was taken from you."
I remained still, standing next to Tullius and looking out over his new ship. A million thoughts raced through my mind; of anger and sadness and guilt. This was not how I was expecting this conversation to go. I did not respond, mostly because I did not trust myself to remain steady. It felt… perverse in a way, to be this attached to a ship, to be this distraught over the thought of not being the one to command her. To lead her into the end of her career, whether that be retirement or destruction.
"Amongst my staff, you have the most experience in commanding ships of this size, even more than me." Tullius turned now, his tone sharp and direct - as if the previous conversation had never happened. "Which is why I want to offer you command of the Glorious. This will naturally include a promotion to Captain, along with all the rights and responsibilities that entails."
I faced him as well, my mind reeling. Yet again, this was not how I was expecting this conversation to go. However, that was typical when it came to Tullius.
"I accept." I said immediately. For once, it was my turn to catch Tullius off guard. The Commodore raised an eyebrow at my words.
"Good." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a code cylinder - it was then that I realised he was only wearing two again. "This is still set to the Conqueror, but we will have it changed over to the Glorious soon enough. Congratulations, Captain Milgern. Expect Nereus to reach out to you in the coming days."
"Thank you, sir." I said, offering him a salute which he returned. It was shortly after, code cylinder still grasped tight, that I asked a question that only occurred to me after accepting.
"Sir, what about Lieutenant Screold?" Everyone knew that Screold was Tullius' golden girl, his protege. A lowly Lieutenant commanding a Star Destroyer? I would have expected this honour to be given to her, even if it didn't come with the rank.
"By staring over her shoulder, I have been stunting her growth as an officer." Tullius admitted easily. "As a leader. I have plans for her, Captain."
Lieutenant Ashsca Screold
The days since the Capt… Commodore's return to the fleet had been filled with chaos. The news of the Conqueror's sale was grim, but the crew continued to work and prepare despite the sour mood. Despite the depressive miasma, it was good to finally have direction again. Tullius charted a course and we followed it. Yet, just when I felt my mood was improving and thoughts of the conspiracy against Tullius were fading from my mind, Rius Harand decided to make himself known.
We were in the officers' conference room once more - just Harand and I. However, unlike our previous meetings, I ensured there was no illusion of where my loyalties lay.
"I will report this meeting to the Commodore." I announced immediately as I met the sallow faced man's gaze with a harsh one of my own. Harand appeared better than when we last met, though it was difficult to tell. His pale pallor remained consistent regardless of his mood, but his posture was straighter.
"I expect as much. That is not why I am here." Harand waved a flippant hand before pushing the datapad before him in my direction. I accepted it uncertainly, reading the contents. As I did, Harand continued. "The Commodore has selected his new flagship and Captain, but has also made known his wish to address the current tactical playbook of the fleet."
"Is there something wrong with the current approach?" I asked slowly, reading through what Harand had written. It was antithetical to Tullius' current playbook and the one I had trained under. The application of an armoured Capital ship fist was paramount to Arrowhead Command's entire approach to warfare. Harand's recommendation would see the fleet's damage dealing fall into the hands of Frigates - cheap, expendable and prone to destruction.
"The Glorious, as the new flagship is called, is a single vessel. What's more, even with the upgrades planned, it is slow. The manoeuvre warfare Tullius prefers is ill-suited for a ship of its class and profile."
"And this is the alternative?" I asked, waving the datapad before setting it down on the table. "Massed cheap Frigates, like the Separatists?"
If Harand was offended by the comparison, he did not show it. Though that was not unexpected, the man lacked pride to the same degree he lacked loyalty.
"Hardly cheap. In an ideal scenario, Tullius could field several-heavily armed Battlecruisers or Star Destroyers and rely on wolf packs of Strike-Class Cruisers or the like. However, in this case, we need to take what we can get. Tullius is faced with a problem and needs our help to provide a solution." He paused for a beat. "It is also a way to get back into his good graces."
My heart froze for a second.
"He knows, then? About the…" I swallowed thickly.
"The attempt to 'throw him under the speeder' as it were? Yes. Did you expect anything else?"
No, but I had deluded myself with the idea that Tullius was ignorant of our plan to betray him. He had given no outward sign he knew, but Tullius could be sneaky when he so chose to be. My mind was cast back to the hints of his past Harand spoke of, the fate of his former Captain.
"Then why come to me?" I asked, returning to the conversation at hand and burying the dreadful idea that I had destroyed whatever faith Tullius had in me. Whatever my thoughts of him at the moment, I did not want to appear unreliable. "Why not present this idea yourself and keep the prize for it alone?"
"A united front." Harand explained easily. "To showcase that more officers than just me are in favour of it."
"And not Matread?" I asked. Harand and I were far from friends - to approach me instead of the more widely popular Matread was telling.
"Wyatdrew Matread would turn this fleet into a collection of fragile Carriers if he could." The idea seemed to offend Harand personally, his lip curling at the thought. "He has little appreciation or understanding for modern combat and still swears by the damnable Venator. To that end, I may also be able to convince the newly-gazetted Captain Nereus to our cause. He - more than most - would have a decent enough understanding of the financial tax fighter-based fleets face."
A well-worded response. I had few interactions with the waylaid former Governor, but in our few discussions he had seemed pompous and miserly. If the Commodore named him paymaster, then he must have been decent enough at his job.
"I have taken the initiative in procuring the KDY surplus catalogue, alongside what few other companies are present in the system. Let us create a comprehensive list of ships, to present as strong an argument as we can."
So we set to work, cooperating to reform Arrowhead Command.
Commander Ciena Ree
My permanent reassignment to the Conqueror came with some immediate changes. Hamne's old office for one. It had been cleared of the man's affects, allowing me to move what sparse personal items I had inside. However, news from the bridge officers indicated the Conqueror was not long for this galaxy. Perhaps my few personal items were for the best, as there would be less to move wherever I ended up?
I had settled into the office for all of five minutes before a knock at the door drew my attention. With the press of a button, a chime droned on the other side of the door. It opened and admitted two people I had not expected to see. The first was Wyatdrew Matread, the 'Chief' of Fighter Command for the fleet - his protruding belly and jolly face filling the doorway. It was who followed him that was of greater interest. The dull, mechanical thump of metal filled the room. The man was of average height, shorter than Matread and thin to the point of emaciation. Though he was dressed in a pressed, professional uniform, there was the unmistakable shape of cybernetic limbs beneath the fabric. Both of his legs and his left arm seemed to hum with machinery, a glove hiding away the hand. His right remained flesh, though it was pale and boney. His face, devoid now of the scars that injured him, was familiar and severe.
Commander Hamne. I had not seen him since Bakura - at least, not conscious. The injuries he had sustained were severe, costing him three of his limbs and covering his body in severe burns. The latter was fixable, the former less so.
I rose to greet them.
"Commander Matread, Commander Hamne. Welcome, I was not expecting you." I said, gesturing to the two chairs opposite my desk. The thought had me glance at Hamne, but he was letting his gaze drift over the office as he claimed a seat. Suddenly nervous, I found myself addressing the Squadron's former Commander. "Hamne, I see the Navy's medical service got to you fast."
"Well enough, though I freely admit I would prefer to never see the inside of a medical bay again." Hamne said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "I hope you are taking care of my Squadron?"
Those words froze any amusement I felt at his words in their tracks. Matread appeared stricken, his moustache seeming to droop as he frowned. I wet my lips before speaking, having assumed Hamne was briefed on the status of his former Squadron."
"Hamne, Crimson-"
"I know." He said immediately, his voice betraying nothing. He was now the sole surviving member of the original Crimson Squadron, or at least of the Squadron before I joined it. The man grieved in his own way, he did not need a stranger to console him. Matread chose that moment to step in, either to help redirect the conversation or else to focus on his true reason for being here.
"As you will be taking over command of Crimson Squadron, Commander Hamne will be joining my staff on the bridge of our new flagship - the Glorious."
"The Glorious?" I repeated, glancing between the men.
"A Procurator-Class Battlecruiser, if you are familiar." Matread said.
I was, though I couldn't remember ever seeing one in person. It filled the same space in my mind as Invincible-Class Battlecruisers or Hammerhead-Class Frigates. Old, ancient even - why would Tullius be commanding one?
"Tullius will be moving his flag there, then?" I asked, to which Matread nodded. Silence stretched for a time as I considered this information, but soon a problem began to claw at the back of my mind. "What happens to the remaining fighters?"
I didn't know much about the Procurator, but given that the Venator was viewed as a radical step for Kuat Drive Yards, I doubted they were very fighter heavy. That appeared to be the right question, as Matread appeared even more thunderous.
"That remains to be seen. The Procurator, despite being nearly twice the size, fields the same number of fighters as the Imperial-Class variants - a single Wing."
"Well and truly a Battlecruiser." I mused. "Tullius always struck me as a Battleship fanatic, I suppose this is expected."
"Expected and damn foolish." Matread muttered, jolliness forgotten. Hamne quickly stepped in.
"That is to say, the Commodore has not been in this position before. Fighter screens were always handled by other aspects of the fleet. Crimson - and our comrades across the Squadron - were expected to deal with interception duties at best."
"What are you trying to say?" I asked, sensing that they were dancing around the issue and wanting them to get to the point.
"I have it on reasonable authority that Tullius is planning to change his tactical approach to better suit his new flagship. He wants to forge a hammer to use alongside his new anvil and has approached Commander Harand for ideas."
"I see." I said slowly, only vaguely remembering the sickly looking man.
"Harand is, at his core, a student of the Eriadu school of warfare. Massed Frigates, with fighters only acting in interception or short-ranged duties." Matread explained. "He has joined forces with Lieutenant Screold who - for all her many qualities is woefully uninformed about modern developments in naval combat - and Commander Milgern, a Star Destroyer officer to his core."
"They would relegate the fighter corps to a sideshow in the fleet." Matread's impassioned words seemed to spark some fire in Hamne's heart, as he joined the other officer. I felt myself becoming heated as well; the Imperial Navy already treated fighters as disposable. However, I was also smart enough to realise they were probably trying to manipulate me into supporting them. I was a new permanent officer, earning the ire of the newly appointed Commodore of the fleet - even if it was Tullius - was a bad way to start my career.
"What do you propose?" I asked, keeping my voice level and noncommittal.
"Harand is currently putting together a proposal for the Commodore. We believe it is in our best interest to do the same, to present the case for a more fighter-focused fleet." Hamne said, outlining their scheme.
"It is likely that Tullius intends to sell the Escapade, the profits of which may be used to complete one of these plans. It is in the fleet's best interest that this funding goes toward the more useful of these two options. What better hammer is there than bombers? We may well push Tullius to invest in a Carrier group - Venators even!"
"Maybe not a Venator." Hamne tempered the boisterous Matread's words, before again addressing me. "We need support to lobby this idea, likely more than what Harand would need to gather given who Tullius is. Can we rely on your support?"
I pondered for a moment, weighing the risk of this plan against the benefit. The Clone Wars had proved the devastating effect bombers and fighters could have in battle, even if the Empire had learned the wrong lesson from that conflict. All throughout my time in the academy and then the Navy beyond, I heard my peers complain and ache about the lack of care the Empire showed its fighter corps. Even more Carrier-centric fleets had their ships built around powerful weapons doing damage rather than their fighters - like the Secutor-Class Star Destroyer.
What harm was there in lending my support?
Lieutenant Ashsca Screold
The chief advantage of shopping for new ships on a budget was the sheer quantity of mid-line Cruisers and Frigates KDY had kicking around. Vindicator and Strike Cruisers made up a sizable portion, with even larger ships such as the Gladiator being represented. Had I the time, I would visit the Loronar branch here in the Kuat system to find better prices - cheaping out on such a highly efficient ship was a recipe for disaster - but the list was meant to represent options, not final costs. Captain Nereus certainly appreciated the idea of cost effectiveness, seeing as he was most sour when we put together the original costs. At least he took his duties as paymaster seriously.
Milgern's support of the plan was not unexpected, despite his ascension to Captain coming with the expectation of neutrality in fleet politics. Sense won out in that case, for as much as I respected Wyatdrew Matread he was blinded by nostalgia.
I was aboard the Glorious, having finished moving over to the new ship the day earlier. While the hallways were similar to Imperial standards of the modern day, my quarters were like stepping into a hotel room. Used to the austerity of Imperial crew quarters, I had been taken aback at the quality. Yet, after a good night's sleep, I felt I could get used to this kind of pampering.
A mouse droid led the way to the Commodore's office. Two of the towering Deathtrooper bodyguards were present at the door, one holding a long-barreled repeating blaster while the other checked his carbine. At my approach, they straightened - green visors glowing ominously in the dim of the hall.
Neither guard spoke or reacted visibly to my presence beyond straightening, though they appeared to be in contact with those inside. The door opened before I had even stopped my stride, allowing me access. The interior was downright glamorous compared to Tullius' old office - the most eye-catching being a genuine wooden desk. Dark brown and glossy, it looked immaculate. What few personal effects Tullius owned and presented were arranged on his desk, paintings covered the left and right walls - tasteful to my untrained eye.
The inside of the door was flanked by the other Deathtroopers - again giving no reaction to my arrival.
Tullius was seated behind his desk, eyes locked on the hologram dominating its surface. It was a Victory I-Class Star Destroyer, the state of its bridge betraying it as the Intrepid. I had seen the damage plenty of times before since Bakura, but even now it was still haunting. The viewscreen and armoured brackets had been blown in - a large hole directly in its face. The structure itself was largely undamaged, but the bridge crew had been sucked out instantly. It made me nervous some times, standing on the Conqueror's forward bridge - and Tullius' choice to close the rear bridge off made more sense.
"-Underway already. Lieutenant Ulstein does want to make the new observation window flush with the hull, though."
"Understandable. He doesn't want to go the same way as his predecessor, but he does realise it won't matter if a turbolaser hits the bridge?"
"Creature comforts, Commodore. It makes him feel better."
"Approve it, I do not want to lose the Intrepid if I don't have to."
"Sir." The hologram vanished, signalling the end of the call he was in. Tullius turned his gaze from the now empty desk to me, arms resting on its surface.
"Lieutenant Screold, you have something to report?"
"Sir." I stepped into the office and marched over to his desk, offering the datapad I was carrying. Consistent with what he had said during our first planning meetings, Harand wanted me to deliver the report so as to present a united front. "Several of the officers gathered to make some recommendations for the fleet's future composition and organisation."
"Is that so? I recall giving that task to Commander Harand." There was an odd quality to Tullius' voice that I was not familiar with, but which immediately put me on edge.
"Commander Harand felt that approaching some of the other officers for input was for the best."
"Good on him. It is good to see that my subordinates can get along so well." He sounded anything but happy with the idea, accepting the datapad only to immediately set it back down on his desk. His eyes bore into me, annoyance written clear as day on his face. "Tell me, why did Commander Harnad not approach Commander Matread to assist in this endeavour?"
"... Sir. Commander Harand felt that-"
"That Matread lacked 'insight on the composition of a modern fighting force' or something to that effect?" From his desk, Tullius procured another datapad - physically identical to mine. "Oddly enough, Commander Ree had a similar sentiment for Rius from Wyatdrew. If I were a betting man, I would wager that there would be as little consideration for the fighter corps in your report as there was the Cruisers in this one."
I did not respond, frozen in place as Tullius spoke. However I was expecting this conversation to go, this was not it.
"I suppose I should have come to expect this. I have been too distant with my staff, too lax in my oversight. I cannot allow bitter rivalries to tear this fleet apart within the first month of its refounding." Tullius fell silent for a time, drumming his fingers along the flat top of his desk. After a time, he appeared to come to a decision. What it was, he did not say, instead waving a hand. "That will be all, Lieutenant Screold. You are dismissed."
"Sir." I left just as quickly as I arrived, all but chased from the office by the intensity of his disappointment.
Commander Civé Rashon
A shudder rattled through my transport, signalling it was landing at last. I rose from my seat, pocketing my datapad and scooping up my briefcase. Several other travellers rose as well, some roused from their sleep by a modulated conductor's voice.
"Now arriving at: Gortis Space Station. Thank you for traveling with Center Courier Services, formerly known as: Coruscanti Courier Services."
The transport was hardly the nicest ship I had taken in my storied career, but I still stepped off it with some trepidation in my heart. In the two months since Endor, I had been grounded and hounded by every officer, intelligence operative and COMPNOR stooge. With the Emperor gone and the leadership dead or missing, everyone else had to face the brunt of the blame. I had been accused of a great many things since that Dark Day, despite having only been one pilot out of an innumerable horde. My rank had a part to play in that blame, but it made me no less bitter.
When new orders came down from my superiors, I was almost giddy with relief. Freedom from the quagmire of Imperial Center politics, I thought!
Until I learned I was being attached to the reconstituted Arrowhead Command, placed under the leadership of another survivor of Endor. While 'Commodore Rivejer Tullius' had his accolades sung from CompForce, I was of little illusion that his banishment to the Outer Rim was done as a reward. But this got me out of the Core and for that, I was pleased.
The terminal beyond was filled with organics of many shapes and sizes. Even this lesser known world in the Kuat System had its fair share of travellers, it seemed. I looked out for other Imperials, the ones I was supposed to meet for arranged transport to the fleet. The sudden nature of this transfer had made collecting me from the Imperial Center difficult. Navytroopers, adorned in Kuati colours rather than Imperial, watched the flow of traffic with uncontained boredom. A uniformed Customs Officer argued with a woman in Navy dress. However, my contact - one Wyatdrew Matread - was nowhere to be seen.
I stepped onto the platform and joined the crowd, moving deeper into the station. Sounds reverberated all around as lights - form advertisements and information panels - filled the area. Having spent the last two months on Imperial Center, it did not affect me as much. However, it was always jarring comparing these Core worlds to ones like my home.
Eventually I found Commander Matread. Like his picture, he was a tall but fat man. His wide face was partially hidden behind a large, grey moustache. Next to him was a comparatively short, thin woman of a darker complexion - his polar opposite in almost every way. What drew my attention to them though was not Matread, for he was far from the strangest looking figure in the station, but the group of Navy Commandos. I approached and Matread almost seemed to beam under his moustache at the sight of me.
"Commander Rashon, Commander Rashon! It is a pleasure to meet you. I do apologise for the inconvenience, it was a nightmare getting parking. Come, come. We should not be any more late than we already are!"
I was taken aback by the boisterous man, turning my gaze to the woman. She met my look with a hopeless shrug.
"I read the report of your deeds at Endor. You are a credit to the fighter corps, Commander. Ah, this is Commander Ciena Ree. A fellow survivor of the battle, as well as the campaign back to the Core."
I looked at the woman again, though now in a new light. Endor had been brutal for the fighter corps, surviving was impressive. I gave her a nod, which she returned, before speaking to Matread once more.
"Campaign to the Core?" I asked.
"Well, I call it that, in any case. The two month expedition it took for us to reach Imperial Center again. Remind me to forward you the report, though I think CompForce wrote about it quite extensively."
"I did my research."
"Wonderful, wonderful." Matread bobbed his head merrily, leading me aboard the shuttle. Ree followed behind us and then the Commandos behind her. "We are currently in the process of rebuilding the fighter corps. Your skill will make a fine addition to our forces."
I sank into a seat while Matread and Ree sat opposite of me.
"It will be good to fly again." I said.
"Of course, we can also use your expertise on how to rebuild the corps." Matread added, still beaming merrily. "Arrowhead Command has never been a fighter-heavy force before."
"A Core-based Navy Officer is in favour of a Carrier-based fleet?" I asked, incredulous at the very notion. Arrowhead Command was but one of many Core-based fleets and it was rare for them to be anything but Star Destroyer obsessed. Even if he was being sent to the Outer Rim - Cuitric, if I remembered correctly - I would have expected consistency.
"It is a work in progress." Matread said, before pressing on. "Welcome to Arrowhead Command, Commander."