Commodore Rivejer Tullius
We made good time leaving Kuat and the Core, which was to say that progress was slow but boring. The retrofitted Class 3 hyperdrive on the Glorious was the limiting factor as, while that was far from the worst in the galaxy, it was also not particularly good. If this were a civilian convoy, we would be quite swift! Still, we were unharassed leaving the Core and entering the first stretch of the Hydian Way. I remained vigilant, which meant my crew remained vigilant. Far be it from me to deny them rest, but two months of relative relaxation was enough time in my mind.
Our latest stop was the water world of Champala, one I was familiar with. Arrowhead Command officers, trapped in the slice for their careers, had often talked about nearby resort worlds. Champala was one such name that was often uttered, but I never saw the appeal. Call me spoiled, but the temperate and calm patterns of Naboo were far more preferable than a world that had the tendency to submerge its citizenry.
Given the world's proximity to the Core and relatively low strategic value, Champala did not enjoy a large dedicated Naval garrison. Most of the system was devoid of an Imperial presence in fact, except for the titular Champala itself. A single Star Destroyer - an Imperial II-Class - hung in orbit over the world. What caught my attention was that the ship had turned to face Champala rather than toward the void, where potential threats would be coming from.
I didn't need to be a genius to smell brewing trouble, so I gave the order for my fleet to skirt the system and hopefully avoid any unfortunate entanglements. Alas, I was also a liar.
The report moved up the chain of command and so Milgern approached me at the holotable.
"We are being contacted by the Star Destroyer Crucible, sir." He said as I stared at the holotable. Ordinarily, Milgern would be well within his rights as Captain to accept that request - had my orders not been specific about avoiding this engagement. The Crucible had not yet moved from its position over Champala.
Damn my eyes, but my curiosity got the better of me. Months of doing nothing but filing paper work, overseeing wargames and twiddling my thumbs had made me anxious for some action - contrary to my always stated goal of staying alive.
"Raise them; I will take the communication here." I ordered. Milgern nodded and moved to relay my order to the comms officer. It took a moment, but a connection was established with the Star Destroyer.
"Glorious, this is Crucible. We are requesting your assistance." The sharp voice of a Core aristocrat greeted me, his tone tired and bored - likely from repeating the same phrase over and over. I took some mercy on the man, responding at last.
"Crucible, this is Commodore Rivejer Tullius of the Glorious. Go ahead."
"Received. Our Captain has been detained by rebellious elements on Champala. We request your assistance in rescuing him."
It was a sign of how bad the situation was in the Empire that Champala - which was just outside the Core - was already under the sway of Rebels. Even the efforts of the Grand Admirals Takel, Teshik, Makati and Pitta were not enough to bring all these worlds into line.
To be fair, I thought, tapping a foot as I pondered my answer. Champala isn't exactly high priority.
While the world was popular for vacations, it lacked the military or industrial presence to threaten Imperial supply lines. Even sitting on the Hydian Way, the world was too unimportant to dedicate a force to bring it into line. At least, that was my perspective in any case. I had to wonder what the Champalans were thinking. Arresting an Imperial officer was a fast way to finally get the attention of his superiors.
"I am under orders, Crucible. I will not be delayed." I responded after a heartbeat, raising a hand to signal an end to the call. I was given pause as the officer on the other end hurriedly continued.
"We are independent of a fleet, Commodore. If you support us, I can guarantee this vessel for your forces."
I was interested, despite my previous words. The Intimidation's loss weighed heavily in the back of my mind and the Crucible would be a very useful replacement. Never mind that it was a Star Destroyer, an Imperial II-Class Star Destroyer could more than supplement the longer range batteries on the Glorious.
However, I was still given pause. Loyalty was admirable, but an independent Star Destroyer could only mean one thing: this ship was probably the personal ship of a Governor or someone higher. That no mention was made of this individual was itself telling, indicating either they were renegade themselves or the Governor was also imprisoned below. A Governor's ship losing its owner? That was a very fast way to get reassigned to a backwater agricultural world with nothing but a patrol boat to your name. I muted my holotable, turning my attention to Milgern - he had already returned to the forward section of the bridge. I redirected my gaze to the nearest officer who seemed not as busy.
"Run the Crucible through our registry and find out who owns it." I ordered the man. He saluted and then scampered off, allowing me to return to the conversation. Unmuting myself, I continued.
"You have the authority to make that promise?" I asked, focusing on the other concern.
"My Captain will be made to see reason." Was the cryptic response I received from the man.
I am not proud to admit it, but a flight of fancy had me seizing the ship for myself and placing it under someone I was more certain would be loyal to me. It was foolhardy and impractical, nevermind the fact it would undoubtedly sour my reputation among the fleet and CompForce representatives, but it served as a concerning sign of how short my patience had become.
"Very well. We will patch you into our battle net momentarily. I will also require the full roster of whatever ground and security forces you have at hand. I assume you will not object to my man taking command of this rescue operation?"
"We defer to you, Commodore." The Lieutenant sounded relieved.
My fleet turned as one and burned toward the Crucible. Within the hour, the skies over Champala's capital of Tidros were darkened by my fleet.
Champala was an ocean world, though one whose tides were seasonable. Using the capital as an example, for part of the year the city was submerged - the natives swimming to and from their air-tight buildings. The other part of the year, the tides retracted to a lower level - flooding might happen occasionally due to standard tide shifts, but the city would mostly be dry. Perhaps the only part of Tidros not to be completely submerged beyond the upper levels of its skyscrapers would be the spaceport. Purposely built to sit over the city, the complex remained operational year around. At least, according to the records I had hastily familiarised myself with. We were in the low-tide season for Tidros - meaning we could access the city relatively easily. In terms of geography, in any case. Tidros was both the planetary capital and a city-state, fielding its own independent paramilitary. Defences ringed around the city - mostly from the Clone Wars and before - but a large shield protected the city itself from bombardment. A sustained bombardment? Probably not, but the point stood.
Colonel Maab would be sent on a direct assault against the city, to draw attention to himself and give a strikeforce time to enter the city unmolested. Cardon was interested in sending his men down, but I trusted the subtlety of CompForce about as much as I did the charity of a Neimoidian. To that end, my bodyguards would at last be able to showcase their skill. To strike at the spaceport directly and see if the Captain - and probably Governor - were hidden there.
The scope of the plan escalated further and further. Yet, as the hours ticked by before the beginning of the invasion, I was struck with a realisation.
In what galaxy did Champala stand a chance at resisting us? I did not mean that as a 'victory is certain' way, but rather a 'what are they thinking?' way. The Crucible itself likely had the means to bring the capital city to heel and only hesitated because its Captain - and whoever else - were hostages. The Champalans had no guarantee I was so restrained.
So, even if the chances of something beneficial coming out of such an action were slim, I opened up a dialogue with Tidros. The response was immediate and wary.
"This is Councillor Sirreg Burly, I speak for Tidros." A deep voice greeted me after the woman - another Chamapalan… Chamapalian, whatever - had accepted and redirected my communication.
"This is Commodore Rivejer Tullius of Arrowhead Command. I am here to negotiate for the release of one Captain Enver Mentz."
"We are relieved to hear that, Commodore. This entire situation has escalated far out of control." There was relief in the alien's voice, the tension bleeding out at my declaration. I was relieved as well, though more at the knowledge that I may not need to waste as much time with this situation than necessary.
"Evidently. Arresting an Imperial officer was rather bold, Councillor." I commented lightly, crossing my arms.
"Ordinarily I would agree, Commodore. However, having been made aware of the facts I do not blame our local constabulary for the actions they took. I suspect you would find the actions of your compatriots objectionable by the standards Imperial officers purportedly hold themselves to. Though I should make a correction that it was not just the Captain Mentz that was detained, but a supposed Governor Burk Mirian."
Ignoring the insult against how the Empire's officers acted, I focused on the important information. My belief about who owned the ship was well founded, revealed by the existence of this Governor.
"Supposed?" I repeated.
"Mister Mirian was not carrying any identification, based on his arrest reports, but claimed to be an Imperial Governor."
"And Captain Mentz did not corroborate his claims?"
"The arrest report indicated that the Captain was not in his right mind to answer questions. After assaulting the arresting officer, they were not particularly interested in asking."
The truth of the matter was revealed and I found a pounding headache beginning to rise in the back of my mind.
"Am I correct in assuming, then, that this is in fact not an act of daring rebellion against the Empire but rather the arrest of two inebriated hooligans that has escalated far beyond reason?"
"That would be an accurate summation of the situation, Commodore."
I could not help it, a long suffering sigh escaped my lips as I closed my eyes. When I left Kuat, this was not how I expected my trek to Ciutric to begin. Yet, among the many problems that could have arisen, this was at least resolvable without battle.
"Would I be correct to suspect that the Crucible, rather than negotiating or requesting their release, opted for threats?"
"They were quite colourful, Commodore." Now that the tension of this discussion had broken, I could almost feel the mocking amusement in the Champalan's voice. I made no comment about it, for while the local police had gone beyond their authority to arrest Imperial officials, I did not blame them. No, that blame lay primarily on the shoulders of three men - the Governor, the Captain and whoever was currently in command of the Crucible.
"My arrival was fortuitous, then. I will need those men released, Councillor."
"Naturally. Will I need to worry about an Imperial army marching on my city?" The official's voice was courteous, but that edgy undercurrent had returned. Now that the comedy of the moment had passed, we were returned to the same situation we started in - I held the fate of Tidros in my hands.
"I suspect that if I were to look at the list of rebellious worlds in the aftermath of Operation HAMMERSTORM, your world would be listed amongst them, Councillor. However, it would appear my superiors have opted to leave Champala to its own devices. I am in no hurry to buck that trend. Return the Captain and Governor and we will be on our way."
"We find that acceptable. It is a relief to see that there are still reasonable men within the Empire." I let that last jab slide and moved the conversation toward how the transfer would occur. Maab was, as to be expected, upset that he could not put his Marines through their paces. However, if the cost of saving time and lives was a sour Maab, then I could accept that exchange.
I had expected far more resistance from Cardon, but the man almost seemed uncaring - or at least ambivalent.
"If I concerned myself with every near-human, I would be stuck on Imperial Center for the rest of my career. I am perhaps more cosmopolitan than the average, but it is my belief that if we focused on the more inhuman species we would not be in our present situation on a galactic scale."
"Truly enlightened." I snarked, though decidedly kept my tone level. "Does that mean Lieutenant Cinna gets a pass?"
"For the time being. You know what Zeltron are like, though. It's only a matter of time before disciplinary action becomes necessary. My more radical subordinates want to nip that problem in the bud."
Right. Thank you Cardon. I had nothing to say to that, so I left the CompForce Major to his usual devices of menacing crewmembers, or whatever it was Cardon spent his days doing.
The transfer of Captain Mentz and Governor Mirian went without a hitch, allowing us to land a shuttle and collect them. According to the officer I sent to oversee the operation, the constabulary seemed happy to see the last of them. The duo were first transferred to the Glorious, as before anything else I wanted to get a feel for the two men that had caused so many issues. My initial thoughts were far from kind.
Mentz was a balding man with rosy cheeks, sour in his disposition though it seemed he was still fighting his hangover. He had a black eye and a cast on one arm - remnants from his scuffle with the arresting officer and whoever else. He still wore his uniform and bore his rank plaque, but neither were anything approaching regulation. He reeked of sweat, urine and other unmentionable odors that made me want to push him into the nearest restroom.
Mirian was even worse - though showing fewer signs of inebriation. He was younger than Mentz, perhaps around my age but given the state of him it was difficult to say. As the Councillor said, the man was devoid of any identifying information. All he had was his white undershirt, jodhpurs and battered boots - Imperial or adjacent but there was no way to know he was a Governor. At least, not if one didn't have access to Imperial records and the Crucible. He looked far more stately and Governor-like in the pictures provided by the other Star Destroyer - I found the sorry creature before me wanting.
We were in one of my conference rooms, though I felt that given the state of them an interrogation room would have been a better locale. Ignoring their offensive odor, I focused on this impromptu interrogation. Morbid curiosity propelled me to take this interrogation myself. One of the CompForce operatives joined me - leaned against the back wall with his arms crossed.
"The reports from Tidros paint a very poor picture of you, Governor Mirian." I began, drawing a pitiful groan from Mentz - whose face was pressed to the cool surface of the table. Mirian had enough presence of mind to appear put together - an image ruined by the rest of his appearance.
"Believing the words of aliens paints a poor picture of you, Admiral."
"Commodore." I correctly lightly, earning a scoff from the Governor. The only Governors - or Moffs - I had ever interacted with in any depth were Nereus and Randd. No matter how obscene Randd had been, there was still some decorum in which they acted. In Mirian's case, he was much more like a petulant child.
"You are denying then that you spend several weeks on the world drinking and partying."
"I will not deny reality, Commodore. What I do deny is the claim of any wrongdoing on my part. How I spend my time is my business, not that of some backwater militia or whatever that police force calls itself."
I glanced toward the CompForce operative, noting the naked distaste in the man's face. Wondering if I was about to get a repeat of Black-3 and if this was one of Cardon's more radical subordinates, I focused again on Mirian.
"And what about the harassment of some women at a club you were attending? The instigating reason for your arrest?"
"Please." The Governor made a face of obvious distaste. "I would never dirty myself so as to touch an alien woman. Captain Mentz is not so discerning."
"Have you ever seen a Chagrian woman?" The Captain decided to pipe up at last, his voice muffled against the table as he refrained from lifting his head. I had not, but that comment did make me glance at the operative once again. The distaste had evolved into open disdain - though that look was saved for the unaware Captain.
"Which led to your arrest." I finished, trying to keep this conversation on track. What had happened was fairly obvious: The two men had spent the last few weeks debauching and drinking themselves into a stupor. The Captain then wanted to sample the local natives and was rebuffed. One thing led to another and the two were apprehended after a fight with the police.
It was the kind of behaviour I expected from NavSec recruits, but my perspective on the Empire's leadership had been poisoned as of late.
"Governor, forgive my ignorance - but why are you here?" I asked, before adding, "Not here on Champala specifically, that much is obvious. I mean, why are you not currently on Altyr V?"
I had done my research and found what world this detestable man was supposed to be governing.
"Is there a point?" The man asked acidically, the words spat like they were poison. He turned his gaze away, glaring off into space. "All these years of fighting, of building the new order by which the galaxy would be ruled - and for what? For aliens and their minions to murder our Emperor, to cast the galaxy into madness? Treason and chaos and who knows what else… I will mourn the death of the Empire in my own way, Commodore - and I will not have some alien or peasant or even you tell me how I may do so."
"Your duty is to the Empire - to preserve it, you pitiful coward." The CompForce operative, finally seemingly reaching his limit, spat his words with fury in his voice. He pushed off the wall he had been leaning against, but paused at my raised hand. That surprised me, I had expected the man to fling himself across the table and wring Mirian by the neck.
"While I would not put it as such, I share the sentiment of our CompForce compatriot."
"CompForce?" Mirian repeated, before turning his glare fully to the agent. "Who are you to speak of duty? Aliens tear down the Empire around us, tell me: who has failed at their duty?"
Disdain became rage, but this time the agent was stilled by the helmet of a Deathtrooper turning to face him. I doubted the Deathtrooper would move until I told him to, especially when it became clear the aggressive action was toward the Governor, but it was enough to keep the agent in the present. Still, I liked to pretend that it was my glance that stilled him.
"It is truly disheartening to hear a… true believer speak about the Empire in such a fashion, Governor."
"Look where belief has brought us, Commodore." His passion expended, the Governor seemed to deflate - a miserable look on his face as he stared at nothing. He was silent after that, evidently no longer interested in speaking to me or at all.
"This has been enlightening, Governor." I said after a time, planning out what I would say or do. "But your adventure is at its end. I am sending you to Imperial Center. If you cannot find your… faith in the Empire, then at least remain there and out from underfoot. I will be allocating your Star Destroyer to my fleet, so that it might be better used."
Surprisingly, the Governor did not care. So defeated and drained was he that he offered no resistance.
"Wash him up then bring him to one of the officer's quarters." I ordered one of the Deathtroopers - I had not yet found a system to differentiate between them. The soldier gave his affirmation then stepped over, grabbing Mirian by the arm and dragging him to his feet. The Governor was walked out, the guard replaced by another black-armoured giant.
"If the Governor and Captain are anything to go by, the quality of the Crucible will be found wanting." The agent said as the door closed. "Major Cardon will want your permission to sweep the ship for malcontents and Rebel sympathisers."
I felt that was a fair expectation, but I would not let CompForce have the first go. Not just because I suspected their definition of malcontent was more expansive than mine, but because I still wanted a crew left on the ship.
"I will let Maab and his Naval Security go first." I said, thinking as I go to justify this decision in a way that CompForce could accept. "Let him lull them into a false sense of security and entrench his forces on the Star Destroyer."
The officer accepted this with a nod, before glancing back down at the Captain. At last, Mentz had lifted his head - staring blearily up at me.
"And this one?" The agent made no attempt to hide his disdain with the 'alien lover'. I had no love for the man either, though for far different reasons.
"I would be honoured to serve you, Commodore." The man said, raising a hand in a half-hearted salute.
"You are a disgrace to the Navy and to that uniform, Captain." I made no attempt to hide the vitriol in my voice. I had become used to the cold professionalism of the old Arrowhead Command. I turned my gaze to the guards. "Take him to the brig."
The man voiced his complaints, but offered no meaningful resistance to the pair of Deathtroopers dragging him up to his feet. He was marched from the room and deeper into the Glorious. What I planned to do with him, I had not yet decided. Once we reached a friendly world, I intended to send Mirian on his way. Mentz would likely suffer the same fate, though bound for a penal world rather than Imperial Center.
The agent and I went our separate ways - him likely to report to Cardon. I made for the bridge, finding it under the stewardship of Captain Milgern.
"The Crucible is on the communicator." Milgern said as I stepped off the elevator. I nodded my thanks to him and moved to my holotable, turning its mute back off.
"Crucible, this is Commodore Tullius."
"This is Crucible, we read you."
"Who is presently in command of the Crucible?"
"I am, Commodore. Lieutenant Dorin Millavec."
"Lieutenant, Captain Mentz has been relieved of duty and Governor Mirian has agreed to move on to Imperial Center. You are to join my fleet effective immediately, will this be an issue?"
To his credit, Millavec did not hesitate to respond.
"No, Commodore."
"I will be sending over a detachment of my Naval Security and Stormtroopers to ensure order is maintained. You will be allowed to keep command of the Crucible. I hope you do not disappoint me."
"Yes, Commodore."
I could have sent someone over to take control of the Crucible, and I may well still do so. However, until I had a better idea of the politics aboard the ship - there was always politics on Star Destroyers - I did not want to put one of my officers at unnecessary risk. Maab's men would feel out the situation and deal with any obvious discontent. Then, eventually, I would be forced to unleash Cardon.
After that? Who knows. Maybe Millavec would surprise me?
"Another thing, Lieutenant. In future, do not hide information from me. I should not have needed to learn about Mirian from the Champalans."
"... Yes, Commodore."
Thus ended the brief stop at Champala. Somehow, it ended without a single blaster being fired in anger. My fleet left Champala peacefully and jumped to lightspeed, moving ever rimward. I could only hope the rest of the journey was even less eventful.