16 BBY
Jelucan fell away beneath us in a calm sweep of blues and bronzes, its cities shrinking into ordered patterns that betrayed nothing of the quiet tensions I had noted below. I filed my preliminary report to the captain that same evening, complimentary, and detailed . Jelucan did not require force. Just a bit of survey from time to time . The Empire, at its best, did not need to crush every world beneath its heel and bring distant worlds in by force.
Some places were more useful when left intact, their loyalty maintained through balance and profitable prospects than fear.
Two days later, our orders had once again changed.
The jump to hyperspace carried us out of the Kwymar sector and into a far less forgiving region of the Outer Rim, Zygerrian territory.
The contrast could not have been sharper.
Zygerria had never been subtle. Where Jelucan and its independence was that of a quiet understanding, Zygerria sometimes brandished defiance too openly, cloaked beneath their arrogance and a thin veneer of "economic autonomy."
Once a proud slave empire, shattered during the Clone Wars, the Zygerrians had been forcibly brought into Imperial compliance. On paper, they were cooperative partners, logistics hubs, labor suppliers, shipyard contractors. But in reality, resentment festered in many cracks of the wretched planet and its inhabitants.
And now that resentment had teeth.
The briefing room aboard the Stark Harrow was as bright and sterile as required from any imperial room, holo-projectors throwing sharp blue light across the long table. Zygerrian star charts rotated slowly, annotated with red markers.
"Six transports in the last four weeks," Dile says. "All Imperial-contracted. All carrying processed materials bound for regional depots in inner regions. Three disabled and seized. Two destroyed outright. One missing presumed captured."
"Rebels?" Raith asked from beside me.
"Former Zygerrian guild enforcers," the junior lieutenant replied. "Smugglers. Ex-slavers. Opportunists. They're calling themselves some form of liberation coalition."
I snorted mentally at that.
Liberation. The word was always used by those who wanted to excuse brutality for some addition of political ideology.
"They know the routes these transports take clearly," I said. "And they know when escorts are light."
"Yes, Senior Lieutenant Coehorn," the Dile confirmed with me. "We can assume they're receiving inside information. We suspect sympathizers within the transport unions."
That confirmed my suspicions. Zygerria was restless because its people believed the Empire had stolen something from them and in some cases, they were not wrong. Though the slave planet deserve any treatment they received
But belief did not excuse action.
Our mission parameters were clear: provide added security to the trade lanes, eliminate any hostile forces, and ensure uninterrupted delivery of materials vital to Imperial logistics.
We reverted to realspace on the edge of the Zygerrian system beneath a pale orange star.
The planet itself was visible almost immediately a scarred world of ash plains and industrial sprawl, ringed with debris from decades of war and collapse. Orbital traffic was heavy, tightly controlled by Imperial patrol craft and Zygerrian customs vessels flying compliant banners.
The Stark Harrow announced itself with unmistakable authority.
Imperial transponder codes sent off and local patrols adjusted their vectors instantly.
I stood on the bridge, hands clasped behind my back as usual. The default officer pose, watching the tactical displays populate.
We shall establish a forward operating pattern almost immediately. The Stark Harrow would not chase any tails.
——- ———- ————
"Another enemy fighter approaching at vector LT453289", the sensor operated stated .
We couldn't see the rest of them but our sensors were picking up the signals of those that had survived.
"Adjust fire to coordinates 564", I pointed out to the gunners.
"Aye Sir", He replied
"Scans mute, hostile has been eliminated splash six", the Sensor operator stated in relief.
'A job well done.' I thought.
Another crooked criminal sent to the grave.
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