Commodore Rivejer Tullius
Two months trudged by in this busy corner of the galaxy. The excitement and constant threats to my life had made the time separating Endor and Imperial Center seemingly fly by, but being interred in the Kuati dockyards was somehow far less exciting. Work was slow going, something I had expected but had secretly hoped against. The engineers who set about modernising the Glorious had made grand promises, ones that they could not keep. Weeks spread into a month and that month became two. Progress was finally wrapping up and it was only now that issues began revealing themselves.
Matread had begun his latest offensive and seizing more of my dwindling resources and the intervening weeks since I purchased the new TIEs and Howlrunners had not made the Admiralty's pockets any looser. The fleet was operating at a fraction of its total fighter capacity, what few we had being dedicated toward defensive and interception duties. I could not claim an especially great care for starfighters - even if Bakura and Endor had proven their usefulness - but their lacking number made even me nervous.
Fortunately, the news was not all bad. Milgern was acclimating to his position nicely, Cardon had managed not to kill anyone yet to my knowledge and Maab was showing results with his NavSec Marine program.
Unfortunately, I had to face a new problem.
I was in my office, where I seemed to be spending most of my time between sleeping and the occasional battery of wargames I was able to command. Milgern had taken over commanding those in my absence - though it at least allowed the officers the chance to operate more freely or in situations where the leadership was decapitated. Oddly enough, I was not gripped with the same animalistic panic at the thought as I usually was. Evidently, my time afield outside the Slice had made me, if not uncaring, then ambivalent about my mortality. That itself was a cause for concern, but picking through what was assuredly the mess my mind had become, I focused instead on the here and now.
Captain Thawne - no first name - was in my office, standing across from my desk. He had requested an in-person meeting, again something I was having an increasing number of.
We have the holocommunicators for a reason. I groused, but I kept my face free of annoyance. Thawne was looking markedly better, healthier and with a less pale face. Given that he was now commanding his own warship - one as temperamental as Venator no less - was a damning condemnation of the state of the Escapade if ever there was one.
The misshapen alien cruiser was still docked nearby, despite having been sold to KDY weeks prior. The Kuati engineers and researchers had already begun tearing into it, trying to understand the alien technology. No doubt to see if there was anything they could steal from or learn about the Ssi-Ruuk.
"Captain." I greeted the man, gesturing to one of the chairs opposite my desk. He dipped his head and claimed a seat, though his posture remained upright and unbending. His more unconventional mannerisms had vanished with the returned discipline of a warship, or so it seemed.
"Thank you, sir." Thawne started. "I wished to discuss the p'w'eck."
I was caught off-guard, blinking as I processed the man's words.
"I see." I said slowly, buying myself time to orientate my thought processes. I had expected this to be another part of the unending fighter argument the fleet seemed locked in. Thawne, with his new proximity around Matread, would be inevitably influenced by the older officer.
As for the former slaves of the Ssi-Ruuk, I had given them even less thought. Between my brief meetings with them, I had contented myself with pretending they didn't exist. There was a certain discomfort I felt in their presence, perhaps even more than the Yevethans. At least the Yevethans had a humanoid figure that approached familiarity, beyond being bipedal there was nothing familiar with the pwecks. At least, nothing similar to humans. Their clear intellect - social and engineering - was at odds with the doctrine I had grown up with. Something so obviously inhuman could not be intelligent, even if logically I knew that to be false.
I drew my mind back to the present, focusing again on the Captain. He had taken my silence as an invitation to continue.
"The p'w'eck proved exceptionally useful and abiding in my time aboard the Escapade." Thawne started.
"For which they must be commended." I agreed carefully. "It lends hope to their association with Kuat in future."
It was embarrassing in a way that the inhuman aliens were the least of Thawne's troubles in the retreat to the Core. The humans and near-human Epicanthix had been locked in a constant state of struggle from the moment they stepped foot on the Escapade.
"I fear that the p'w'eck may not be given a choice in the matter, sir. They have only begun to recover their individuality and personalities. I fear KDY may use their naivety and placidity to enslave them again, to use them to better understand the Escapade and Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium."
"There is always that risk." I said, trying to figure out where Thawne was going with this train of thought.
"Yes, sir. Which is why I want to request that you allow them to join the fleet." I froze and blinked, surprised by this turn of events. This time, Thawne took my silence more negatively, as he rushed to add, "Just aboard the Lionheart, sir. In engineering."
Once again, I was thrown for a loop. Fortunately I recovered faster this time, delivering the only answer that could be given in this situation.
"Denied." I said immediately.
"Sir?" Thawne spluttered, "But… Sir, the p'w'eck have been a great help in operating the Escapade. Without them, we would never have been able to leave Bakura. They have vast experience with engineering."
"And do they have experience in operating a warship of the size, complexity and alien development as the Lionheart?" I asked, allowing this argument for the time being. I was the Commodore, I could squash it here and now, sending him on his way. Thawne was new to command, though - and worse still, I had little understanding of his personality.
"They could learn. They have been fast on the uptake regarding Imperial hardware brought onto the Escapade." Thawne said, but he sounded petulant.
"I will not drag a team of untrained engineers into battle." I snap, tapping a finger on my desk in a display I hoped portrayed a shortening temper. I let my voice soften slightly, "I sympathise with the debt you feel you owe the pwecks, but bringing them into this fleet would only put them at more risk than anything they would face on that ship. Consider for a moment the scrutiny we are under."
I was referring to CompForce, obviously. I severely doubted we were worth the attention of any other agency, despite the chaos caused by our return those months ago. Cardon had already voiced his complaints about Lieutenant Cinna, finding a Zeltron woman being an officer in my fleet disgraceful. That had been tame, Cardon had a better handle of diplomacy than his more radical subordinates. I had sent a few officers to watch over the CompForce men under the guise of acting as their intermediaries between Maab and Cardon. Much of what was said was not something I would repeat in polite society.
Cinna was a Zeltron, a near-human. Beyond the supposed pheromones her people excreted - and her bizarre skin colour - she was a near-human. I could only imagine the frothing fury that Cardon and his ilk would display at bringing the pwecks into the fleet.
"And before you begin to contemplate the idea of sneaking the aliens into the fleet, consider what would happen if Major Cardon learned you had been hiding them in your ship. Whatever debt you feel you owe them is not worth the cost of your and their lives. Whatever fate they may face here? It will still be kinder than the attention of CompForce."
I didn't know that for certain, but CompForce had something of a reputation. Thawne appeared unhappy with this decision, but after a moment he let out a sigh and acquiesced. Still, I made a note to find someone on the Lionheart that could keep an eye on Thawne.
Just in case.
Late into the third shift - a time I usually set aside to sleep - found me at my desk. In a rare moment, I was not here to work. No amount of training had prepared me for the greatest enemy that came when one was made a Commodore or Admiral: paperwork. As a lowly Captain, most of the hard work was done for me. Sign here, sign there, done. Now, I was left spending hours navigating the dizzying arrays of procurement, acquisitions, finances and discipline. As the sole arbiter of the fleet, that last part was especially plentiful.
However I was distracting myself, because my intention was not to continue working on that. I had chosen this time specifically, as it was approximately midday in my hometown on Naboo. Distant Naboo, it had been many years since last I had visited my home and for good reason.
My departure from the world had been far from harmonious, a big fight with my parents for what they called a childish act of rebellion. Loathe though I had been to admit it then, they were right. Many hurtful things were said that day, the sort I regretted even if I stood by my decision nowadays.
My cause tonight was to contact them. I didn't know why I felt the sudden pressure. Perhaps it was the finality of the trek to come? I did not know for how long I would be in the Ciutric Hegemony for, nor did I know if I could make the easy contact the Core network of Relays allowed in future.
The console came to life, accepting my credentials without issue and attempting to connect to Naboo. My homeworld had modernised its communications relays before I had ever left, so I expected a speedy connection to be made. Minutes stretched by as no contact was made with my childhood home, concern beginning to creep into my mind. After the fifth minute, a message appeared - jaunty and entirely unhelpful.
"Thank you for using [IMPERIAL CENTER COMMUNICATIONS]. We are unable to connect your call at this time. We apologise for the inconvenience."
I frowned, but tried again - to the same result. I changed tactics, attempting to make connection to the fishery business my father owned - forced to dredge up details about that contact identification from the depths of my memories. After a few minutes, the same message appeared. I tried then to contact the head office of Naboo's communication relays, but again to no avail. That did offer me more information, though it was supremely unhelpful all the same. A message - likely preprogrammed to appear if Naboo lost connection to the greater galaxy - flashed across my screen. Either Naboo's array was down or they were no longer accepting communications from the Core. Whatever the cause, I was left staring at my terminal.
I let out a sigh, bringing a hand up to massage my temple as I fought down the rising headache. It was on days like these that I needed a pick-me-up and I looked longingly at the drawers of my desk. In one was some of the alcohol I had taken from the Conqueror, but I could not drink that. With what my days were like, there was little time for me to be inebriated. My usual vice - and it was dangerous to think of it like that - had been restricted. My abuse of stimulants had been reported to my chief medical officer and so my access was restricted. Not publicly as portraying the commanding officer of the fleet as a substance abuser was bad for morale, but medical had made it very clear they would make it public if I pushed the issue.
Left without my vice and disappointed by the outcome of my attempt, whatever I expected to hear from my family, I shut down the terminal. The angered thud of my finger hitting the 'off' button was perhaps a little more forceful than intended.
The great journey was upon us. I stood on the bridge of my ship, watching as the massive docking clamps at least released us. The Glorious drifted away, using her reverse thrusters to escape the Kuati station. My view of the ship was obscured somewhat by the massive turbolaser dominating the lower viewscreens, but our vast bulk was obvious as we moved backwards into the fleet. The Intrepid and Steadfast had seemed small next to the Conqueror; now they appeared almost tiny in comparison. The extra kilometer made quite the difference, or so it seemed.
"We are away, Captain." The helmsman announced, bringing the cumbersome ship into position among the fleet.
"Good. Navigation, begin calculations for lightspeed once we are in position." Milgern ordered. I nodded, seeing he had the bridge under control before returning my attention to the holotable. There was little need for my guidance, so I opted to sit back and watch. The Victory Star Destroyer pair moved in a line - led by the Intrepid - to one side of the Glorious. The Lionheart sat on the other, followed by a line of the assorted Corvettes and Frigates. The Vindicators moved alone - separated from the fleet but not so far as to be unprotected in the event we were attacked.
Some might call me paranoid, but I called it experience.
Hyperdrives spooled up, sublight engines shut off. At last, the Glorious launched into hyperspace.
Grand Admiral Miltin Takel
Teshik had picked our meeting place well, at least as far as the food went. While this restaurant could hardly match the chefs I had on my Star Destroyer, the Magic Dragon, they were at least passable. Still, I paced myself - enjoying the crustacean presented to me with tact as my cyborg companion sat eerily still.
I would not be the first to admit that I was slightly intimidated by the half-man, if only slightly. His already startling bulk was supplemented by his mechanical pieces, giving him an off-putting presence. Despite our months of cooperation and alliance, I still felt a degree of discomfort in his company. Still, these months had given me some appreciation for my fellow Grand Admiral. Of all our peers, I felt he was the only one that could properly match my skill as an officer - though I still surpassed him, of course. My defeat at the hands of Grunger had been a fluke, an error corrected at Commenor. Who had driven the Rebels back at Kashyyyk, saving that impudent fool Syn from certain doom? Who orchestrated the sieges that even now slowly crushed the life from those Rebel holdouts in the Core and Mid-Rim?
Yet for each of my successes, it felt as if I was pushed further into Teshik's shadow. I hated him, for he seized more power for himself and held support over my head to keep me in line. I respected him, for he balanced the dizzying array of factions on Imperial Center and worked them against each other.
"He's late." I muttered, suddenly feeling quite sour as I pushed my plate away. My appetite was spoiled, made worse by the long wait for the third member of this party. Teshik said nothing, merely keeping his steely gaze aimed at the door. The restaurant was empty besides the two of us, the staff having retreated to the kitchen.
As if summoned by my words, the doors opened to allow entrance to another human. Like Teshik and I, he was dressed in the pure white uniform of a Grand Admiral; golden epaulette on his shoulders and rank plaque secured straight on his chest. He was handsome, face clean shaven and hair tousled as if to give him a rakish appearance. It was at odds with his pristine uniform, but it made this man striking.
He arrived alone, no guards or functionaries in sight. Of course, I suspected he had his own cadre nearby - as Teshik and I did.
I felt my frown deepen at the sight of him and I allowed my lips to curl down.
"I apologise for my lateness, gentlemen." Rufaan Tigellinus said, his voice easy and betraying none of the tension this meeting entailed.
I held very little respect for Tigellinus, perhaps even less than I now had for Grunger. For while Grunger had been a deceptive traitor, he had at least proven himself an able foe. Tigellinus had used his position for political purposes, seeking political station rather than furthering his skill as an officer. His reputation for competence was, in my eyes, merely a facade put forth to strengthen his mystique rather than a fair approximation of his skill. However, it was his position as the Grand Moff of Oversector Imperial Center that brought me to this table. While Takel and I had aligned together, our attention was split. Loathe though I was to admit it, we needed support.
Tigellinus took a seat - one of the last two at the table. He eyed the prepared food with a look almost of distaste before addressing Teshik.
"I have heard of your successes in negotiating with Rendili, Osvald. Congratulations are in order." Tigellinus began, before glancing at me. There was a momentary pause, before almost as an afterthought he added "Takel."
I grunted something approximating a greeting before dipping my head in his direction - the barest courtesy I wanted to give him at this time.
"Thank you." Teshik said, his voice toneless as he considered Tigellinus.
"And your successes against the Rebels, inspiring." Tigellinus continued. Again, Teshik thanked him, his expression and voice unreadable. I smirked, watching Tigellinus trying to ingratiate himself with the other Grand Admiral. Even after months of working close together, I struggled to get a read on the man's face and tone. Catching the look, Tigellinus turned now fully to face me.
"Though I suppose not all the credit goes to Osvald, does it? Kashyyyk was your work, if memory serves? How go the sieges?"
I met his gaze, my suspicions immediately aroused as I considered how to answer.
"Well enough. The Hosnian system recently fell, as I am sure you are aware. The Core has already been scoured of their strongholds. It is only a matter of time before they are pushed from the Mid-Rim entirely."
The other issues went unmentioned. Blitzer Harrsk and his renegades had seized a number of worlds and I did not have the ships to engage him directly. Keeping the traitor contained was my best course of action until Teshik could move the promised fleets to my command. Rebel and warlord raids had not intensified in recent weeks, but they had not reduced in number either. I was losing ships and men with scarce reinforcements as Teshik balanced the demands of the Ruling Council with the needs of the Fleet.
"Impressive. Especially given your recent problems?"
I was unable to stop the scowl that crossed my face, a reaction Tigellinus appeared to be fishing for as his eyes lit up.
I was a man of many vices, that much I could freely admit. My fondness for exotic women and narcotics were an open secret amongst the upper echelons of Imperial society, but few would be foolish enough to make them public. After all, I had rubbed shoulders with those individuals myself; I knew just as many dirty little secrets as they did and I would happily pursue mutually assured destruction if they tried to sink my reputation. Any instances where I might have slipped up were covered by my brother, Griff.
What I had not expected was for news of my vices to be released anyway. Somehow, several major news sources on Imperial Center and beyond had received credible proof of my personal life and had run the news. The Ruling Council could have stopped such a course of action, but they made no move to. The reason was obvious, Teshik was all but untouchable at the moment and so they sought some way to destabilise his support base. Overnight, I became known as a drug abusing philanderer, who spent more time pursuing his vices than he did fighting his battles. Grossly wrong, but the damage was done and there was little Griff could do to stop it. My reputation was in freefall, which did not help the authority I tried to maintain in my fleets. My rivals - who I had spent years keeping at bay - capitalised on every mistake - real or perceived. And then Syn, damn him, had taken part of my fleet from Kashyyyk and had gone on a suicidal crusade into who knew where.
Nevermind that I did not have authority over him. Nevermind that Syn was a fanatic who would have struck out on his own anyway, regardless of who was at Kashyyyk. Suddenly, Syn's flight was my fault. Onto the pile of failings I supposedly had, onto the pile of questions as to why I was a Grand Admiral.
Tigellinus turned his attention back to Teshik, leaving me forgotten.
"Are we waiting for one more?" He asked, gesturing to the empty spot. Like his, it had been made up for a fourth member - but there was little expectation of that man arriving. Afsheen Makati, another Grand Admiral and the last that had remained with the Empire, at least outwardly. While at least an experienced officer, he was something of a forgettable Grand Admiral - or as much as one could be, in any case. Competent, but not excessively so. Politically connected, but only enough to stay afloat. Indeed, had it not been for more recent events I would not have considered him a worthwhile investment at all.
"No." Teshik said immediately, before finally turning his gaze to me. Despite my collapsing reputation, he still treated this partnership as equal. It felt somewhat demeaning, but I was secretly thankful he had not sidelined me completely. I nodded my head, giving my acquiescence. Teshik turned back to Tigellinus, beginning without preamble.
"You are aware of the current struggles within the Ruling Council?" He asked.
"Naturally." Tigellinus responded easily. This much was obvious, even from a cursory look at Court politics. The Ruling Council was pulling apart at the seams, as it had been from the moment Palpatine died. Sate Pestage was barely holding them together and now the COMPNOR internal civil war was growing more violent by the day. It was only a matter of time before his government would collapse - I gave a year at best before Pestage was dead or deposed. At least, dead or deposed without our assistance. More importantly, without Tigellinus' assistance.
Whilst I had been commanding the fleets south of the Core and Teshik had been fighting Navy politics, Tigellinus had been pursuing his own course. He was stabilising the political fallout in the Core - seemingly trying to keep the Oversector united. The real reason was obvious: he was building his own political base. Without the current attacks I was facing or the shame Teshik bore for his part in the Battle of Endor, Tigellinus was free to act with impunity.
"Takel and I have been working to keep the Empire stable, but it has become increasingly clear that we can not work toward this goal alone." I was against this direction, as it portrayed us as weak. However, I also couldn't come up with a better idea, so it was Teshik's idea that we went with. "We wish to bring you into our alliance."
There was a pregnant pause as Tigellinus considered Tashik. Rather than taken aback at the thought of being brought into a conspiracy, he almost seemed to be amused. Teshik was, at least publicly, as unsubtle as a dynamic hammer to the skull. There was far more cunning hidden behind that facade, but the directness seemed to be humorous to the other Grand Admiral. I offered no words; this was their arena, not mine. I had been shunned from my circles, my connection to the Game was now solely from the military's perspective.
"Alliance? You make it sound more like a conspiracy, Osvald. But a conspiracy against whom?"
"The present situation in the Ruling Council is not to our advantage. If this factionalism devolves into open fighting, the Empire will not survive."
Not to say that collapse was not already happening. The veneer of loyalty presented by individuals like Kaine, Zsinj or Pitta was a millimeter thick. If the Ruling Council truly collapsed and the Empire's authority devolved further, then any pretense of loyalty would vanish just as suddenly.
"That much is obvious. You plan to hasten this collapse, then? Create a Diarchy of Grand Admirals to rule in their stead?" Tigellinus' tone was light, but I could read the interest in his eyes. His power at present was based around political connections and favours, not as direct or official as a position on the Ruling Council or whatever succeeded it. He wanted power, as we all did.
"No." Teshik answered immediately and I enjoyed the momentary floundering Tigellinus showcased. It took him a heartbeat to find his footing.
"No?" Tigellinus repeated.
"No," Teshik repeated. "The Ruling Council has proven an unreliable organisation. However, Sate Pestage still carries the prestige of rulership that its members, or we, lack."
"You wish to use him as a puppet." Credit where it was due, Tigellinus caught on quickly to what the plan was. With my present woes - and the general distrust Teshik was viewed with - we both knew that being the Empire's face was not in our immediate futures. Sate Pestage would be a useful lightning rod, catching any attention while we focused on our work. However, the speed at which the Empire was unwinding had caught us off-guard.
"In a matter of speaking." Teshik said, "To that end we require your resources and support. I can not manage the military and civilian government without losing control of one or both."
"I am surprised." Tigellinus said after a moment. "Given your current war with the Grand Vizier that you would want to keep him around."
There was no point in denying the facts, I felt. Teshik and Pestage had been bickering and fighting over every resource they could. Not so directly, but it was clear Pestage was paranoid over Teshik having too much influence over the Navy. Any officer assigned by Teshik was reassigned by Pestage. It had gotten to the point that Teshik was using patsies to cover the officers he wanted to move - unimportant busibodies that would divert Pestage's attention from something important.
"That will be solved with time." Teshik said, as noncommittal as he could sound. In the grand scheme of Imperial politics, Pestage may well have been made of glass. If Teshik wanted him hanged, the Ruling Council would supply the rope and COMPNOR would tie the knot.
"Forgive me for sounding mercenary." Tigellinus started, though he sounded anything but apologetic. "But what is in this for me? I see no advantage in expending resources to keep afloat a man we all know is on the razor's edge of falling."
"The Ruling Council." I finally added my voice, earning a glance from the other Grand Admiral. There was no attempt to hide the naked interest on his face as my words. "Neither Teshik nor I can act as the face of the Ruling Council. Nor, I suspect, could we sit on it without drawing unwanted attention. You will be free to manage and organise the Council as you see fit, so long as Pestage sits at its head - if only in appearances."
And there it was, the face to the control he now exerted. Tigellinus clearly coveted the direct power that position would give him, regardless of whatever official title he held.
"Now that is interesting. And what part, pray tell, would you two be playing? Protecting the Empire out of your patriotic belief in it?" Disbelief was clear in Tigellinus' words, suspicion clearly displayed now that the greed had been quenched by logic.
"I will be officially stepping into the position of Chief of the Navy within the next month. Officially, Takel will be taking command of the 2nd Sector Army, unofficially he will also be commanding the 4th and 20th."
"Carving up the Empire like a bird." Tigellinus noted absently, drumming his fingers on the table as he pondered the possibility. "A Grand Admiral-controlled government. I suppose it's only natural. Though that does raise the question of why Makati is not here?"
Unfortunately, Makati's star was in the ascendent. He did not carry any black marks on his record and after the Trioculus Affair he looked far more proactive than the rest of us. Someone was backing Makati and there were only a few good guesses as to who.
"I suppose that is a fair deal. I keep Pestage alive and you give me the Empire." Tigellinus gave a wide, predatory smile. It was perhaps the first real one he showed during the whole meeting. "I suppose I can accept that."