Ator filled the cockpit windows.  She hung like a jewel in the ebony void, beckoning for her wayward son to come home.  Normally, the sight would bring warmth and comfort to his heart – a promise of old friends, loves and family.  Nothing had been normal since Lehon.

The Yulia banked hard a starboard and flipped on her back as she made the final approach to the Ratselhof.  The house shields were down and the welcoming committee was on the platform.  Bedav, and other Corusca Bank officers, ranking officers of the Atrasin House Fleet, and local dignitaries stood awaiting the Baronet’s return.  None of them smiled.  They all knew the circumstances of his return and what it boded for all of them. 

The yacht light touched down, Jillee was an expert pilot and a deft touch on the ship’s controls; the hatch hissed open.  The honor guard snapped too as the Prince Admiral of the Atrasin House Fleet descended to the platform.  His grim visage confirmed what they all knew…hell followed.

Bedav Atrasin, Lord Controller of the House Atrasin and President of Corusca Bank nodded at Geordi, “Hello brother.  I’d like to say this was a happy time and I’m glad to see you, but I don’t like to lie.”

“I know. I wish this was a better circumstance as well, but shit happens.  Is everything proceeding as scheduled?”

The pair turned and strode past the files of bankers and ramrod straight warriors- aides straining to keep up - toward the entrance to the ‘Hof’. Bedav continued, “It is.  All of the ships are here save for the Animus. It will arrive tomorrow.  They are crewed and awaiting your arrival to begin shakedown exercises.”

“Excellent, my personal fighter is in the hold of the yacht. Have them prep it for departure, I plan on being on board the Animus as soon as she arrives,” turning to his aide, “have all of my belongings unloaded from the yacht and then vaporize it.”

Bedav looked at his brother, his gaze met by the cold stare of a metallic replacement.  He hadn’t been aware of how deep the pain went until this moment. “The House Fleet is in orbit now. Are you heading up?”

Driver nodded, “Give me an hour or so to settle in and I’ll attend to them straight away.  We have much work ahead of us brother, and not a lot of time to do it in.”

“Is this all truly necessary Geordi?” he queried in a desperate tone.

The lift pinged its arrival on the Military Level of the ‘Hof’ and the doors slid open.  Driver spun and strode purposefully toward the double doors that marked his office as Commander-in-Chief.  His aide peeled off to ready the Hawkbat for flight and hurry the unloading of the doomed yacht.  Geordi and Bedav entered the room alone, as the doors slid shut G whirled and locked his cybernetic eye on his brother, “Never question me or my methods outside of these walls again.  What I do must be, and WILL be done.”

“Must it brother?  Or does your damaged heart and mind call for it to revenge someone that never would have wanted to be revenged?” his returning salvo aimed to wound, for he knew that if he didn’t find a way to reach the man within the machine, he may very well never reach him.

The prosthetic eye focused to a pinpoint.  Its cold red light never wavering, “It must.”

“Certain elements of the Vast Empire have forgotten what it means to be ‘Imperial’, they must be reminded.  They must be reminded Economically, Spiritually, Politically, and Militarily.  I will be the one to remind them.  Ator has never been the center of the Empire.  It has never been the most in anything, save for one thing…its spirit.  At its very core, this world IS Imperial.  I intend for it to show the rest of these poseurs and martinets what that word means.”

“Even if you take us all to the Hells in the process?” asked Bedav sarcastically.

“Yes brother, even if I have to burn this planet to a cinder and leave her charred remains as an epitaph for the whole Galaxy to read. “

Bedav crumpled under the weight of his brothers words.  He slumped into the nearest chair and massaged his face with his right hand.  He watched as the man he once knew so well settled himself into his large throne like chair behind their father’s impressive desk.

“To that end I’ve made a few ‘arrangements’ while I was inbound.  I took the liberty of opening a standing account at Kuat.  We will be ordering quite a few ships over the next few months and years, and I want to be sure that we have things in order.  These first seven ships will form the core of our new Fleet.  I’ve also renamed the fleet.  It’s unseemly to have our family name attached to a base military organization, even if we own it.  We are now known as the Atoran Home Fleet, subtle change, I know, but I am nothing if not subtle.”

“That you are brother, that you are,” stated the younger Atrasin, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“The current fleet will remain here as a Home Guard, just in case anything unforeseen should happen.  I’ve also contracted for a sizable Space Station to be built in geo-synchronous orbit over the ‘Hof’; it should be done within the year.  Oh, you’ll like this one…I’ve contacted the Imperial Herald’s College.  After a vigorous conversation and a rather hefty ‘contribution’ I am happy to inform you that you are now looking at Prince Geordi III, Duke of Ator.  I had them throw in an Earldom for you as well.  A Baronetcy would simply not do for what I have planned.”

Bedav sighed, “And what exactly do you have planed brother?”

“Retribution, dear brother, pure retribution.”

The comm in his desk pinged Driver back to the moment, “Your Lordship, the yacht has been unloaded and disposed of.  Your fighter stands ready for you at any time.”

A feral grin crept across Driver’s face, “Excellent, alert the Atrasin that I will be aboard shortly.”

“Yes, your Lordship.”

“Now, dear brother, I have a fleet to inspect. Care to join me aboard the Animus for dinner tomorrow?”

Hoisting himself out of his seat the younger man looked wearily at his sibling, “Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Excellent, I’ll make sure they prepare something special for you.”

Geordi strode out of the office, leaving Bedav behind.  His mind was focused now, focused like it had not been since the months leading up to Lehon.  He fairly ran to the main hangar and mounted his sleek, deadly fighter.  It hadn’t got much of a workout since he purchased it, barely had a hundred hours on it in total flight time, and zero combat.  Not that he’d be seeing much personal combat anymore, but he figured he’d set up some drone action from time to time…just to keep his reflexes sharp.

The Hawkbat lifted gracefully into the clear Atoran sky.  Driver did a barrel roll just for a lark as he passed through the atmosphere and into the void.  Hanging in the sky above him were the three veteran ships of the old Atrasin House Fleet.  “The Saviors of Lehon” they’d been dubbed.  Nothing could have saved Lehon, and the only thing worth saving in that battle was lost.  The whimsy drained out of the Duke again, and he nosed his fighter over to the open docking bay of the lead craft.  Touching down lightly he popped the hatch and made for the bridge.  He could see the modified pilot’s chair was still where he left it as he stepped from the tubolift.  Captain Jan Targus, another rare survivor from Lehon rose from the command chair.  He’d been plucked by Driver from the VEN where his mere association with Lehon had condemned him to a picket ship on the outskirts of the unexplored regions.  Targus was a damn fine officer and a rather brilliant tactician, the fact that he survived Lehon at all was a testament to his skill. 

“Admiral on deck,” announced Targus, saluting smartly.

Geordi returned the salute, “Good to see you again Captain, how’s the fleet?”

“She’s shipshape and Coruscant fashion sir, awaiting your orders.”

“Excellent, who is your XO?”

The captain turned and motioned for a young bridge officer to step forward, “1st Lieutenant Kharl Ahama, Sir”

“Lt. Ahama, how long have you served aboard the Atrasin?”

“Just under one year, your Lordship.”

Turning to Targus, “Is he a worthwhile officer?”

“Yes your Lordship, he’s one of the best I’ve seen in my career.”

“Excellent, Mr. Ahama you are hereby promoted to Captain, and you are now in command of the Atrasin.”

“Sir?” asked both the Lieutenant and the Captain simultaneously.

“You are now the Captain of the HGS House Atrasin. Command her well.”

Targus broke out in a cold sweat. His stammering words rising in volume as he spoke, “But Admiral, what have I done to merit this…I’ve served you well since before Lehon...”

The Duke cut him off with a sharp look from his prosthetic eye, “We will not mention that engagement Commodore.”

Staring confused at the Duke he continued, “Commodore? I’m sorry, my lord, I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand Targus?  I have just relieved you of command of this ship, promoted you to Commodore and now I’m placing you in command of the new flagship of the Atoran Home Fleet, the AHS Animus.

The officer stiffened to attention as the facts became clear, “Sir. Thank you, Sir. I will do my best to live up to your expectations.”

Driver leaned in close to the man, “As well you should Commodore, for I subscribe to Lord Vader’s line of thinking when it comes to failures.”

The younger officer nodded and swallowed hard. 

“Walk with me Targus, Captain Ahama, you have the bridge.  Targus we are poised on the brink of a new day in Atoran military history.  We are about to initiate the largest single build up of forces this world has ever seen.  I aim to make us competitive with the halfwits in the VE, and surpass them.  To that end I have ‘contracted’ several noted military tacticians who, at this very moment, are drawing up plans for a limited expansion of Atoran territory.  We will, of course, be keeping our distance from Thrawn and the other Remnant warlords, but I feel that we will be able to establish a more…robust version of what they call Imperial overlordship in this sector.  Now, I have you aboard the Animus, and I have General Sonn on the surface preparing our Army forces.  I want us to be ready to move within the next six standard months. Can you get the Fleet together by then?”

Earnestly he stated,” I will have them ready, or die in the attempt your Lordship.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point Commodore.  The new Fleet is in anchorage at Apogee Station, the Animus will arrive tomorrow morning. You and I will take possession of her and begin our work.  Any questions?”

“No Sir.”

“Good, I’ll see you at 0700.  I’m flying my personal fighter, you can feel free to do the same, or take a shuttle.  Good evening Commodore.”

Driver made his way to his quarters and called for a light meal.  Once finished he perused a few messages regarding the inbound Animus, and a few of the other ships currently on order at Kuat.  He spoke for a few moments with Bedav and made sure that all was well with the Bank before calling it an evening.

His dreams were not pleasant.  Lehon looped over and over again.  The Raven exploding, Nazgul, Viper and the rest of Phoenix shredded, and Ibram spiraling into the planetary depths…over and over again.  He woke with a start.  Head pounding, sweat covered his body, his prosthetics wildly gesticulating.  A scream, formed from somewhere deep in his soul, reverberating throughout the room.  No one knocked.  No one even heard the noises.  He remembered he’d had these walls soundproofed on his way here, he knew what would happen.  The nightmares had been with him every night since Lehon.  He wondered if they’d be with him till he died.  He wondered if he’d live long enough to care.

He turned and rose from the bunk, walked to the ‘fresher and splashed some water on his face.  It took away some of the grime, but none of the pain.  He stepped into the shower and gave himself a scrubbing, toweled off and donned one of his new black on black uniforms.  It was early, so he decided to prowl the corridors of the ship just to see who he could frighten.  It’s not every day you have an admiral walk through your engine room, let alone one that will ask questions and listen.  Driver knew the value of his mystique.  He was a decorated veteran of many pitched battles in service to the VE.  He was the Baronet, now DUKE of Ator and the face of this world.  Many knew of him, but no one, well…no one alive, KNEW him.

He strolled into the mess and scored a cup of caff and continued his stroll.  He made his way through a good portion of the ship until he finally arrived at the main hangar bay.  Captain Targus was waiting for him in front of this personal TIE Avenger.

“Good morning, Your Lordship.”

“Good Morning Targus, shall we go and see our new toy?”

The captain smiled and nodded as he mounted up.  Within minutes both he and Driver were spaceborne and headed toward the Animus.  The gleaming, new, white Victory II Star Destroyer hung in space.  Her deadly potential seemed to beg to be turned loose.

Soon my pet, very, very soon

They angled under the hull of the massive death machine and smoothly slid into the main hangar bay.  The docking hooks grabbed their fighters and settled them into their respective racks.  The hatches popped and the officers took the nearest lifts to the bridge.  The tube still had its ‘new ship’ smell.  The doors to the lift opened on to a thing of pristine military beauty.  Gunmetal grey catwalks rose over pits of feverishly working bridge officers.  Young Ensigns and Lieutenants striving to make themselves noticed without being noticed.

“Admiral on deck!” shouted an anonymous Commander, he saluted, “Admiral Atrasin, I present to you your flagship, the AHS Animus.”

“Thank you Commander, I accept her and order her service to be entered into the logs.  I place Commodore Jan Targus in command, may you all have fair skies and calm space ways.”

The Commander logged the entries into the ships log and tolled the ship’s holo-bell.  Driver stepped forward and sat down in his customized command seat.

“I have the conn. Helm; lay in a course for…Abrae.  Prepare to make the jump. All hands at battle stations”

Turning to Commodore Targus, “When we arrive at Abrae, I want to do an immediate emergency jump back to Ator.  I just want to rattle them a bit”

The stars grew long and shot past the bridge windows as the Animus slipped into hyperspace.  Driver was going to relish this little surprise.  He wished he could be there to see the look on Den and Shaz’ face when an unidentified Star Destroyer pops out of hyperspace on top of the VEN headquarters and then disappears…that should have their skivvies in a bunch for a few weeks.  It also would show him a bit of where this crew stood. An emergency jump is not an easy task, let alone dropping into one of the most heavily defended areas in the Galaxy.  Luckily the VE never invested in Interdictors.

Abrae in fifteen seconds

“All hands prepare for full stop, and be ready for possible incoming”

…Four, three, two, one

The Animus blinked into existence over the home planet of the Vast Imperial Navy.  It loomed over the small planet, alone.  The Atrus was nowhere to be seen, or scanned on any scope.

Talk about the luck

“Weapons. Give me a low yield burst of atmospheric charges.  Set the detonation height at one kilometer.  Full spread.  Target: VEN headquarters. Fire.”

The Animus fired a spread of a dozen charges at the building housing the Naval High Council.  The charges blossomed harmlessly, like so many fireworks on the Emperor’s Birthday.

“Helm.  Get us out of here, emergency jump back to Ator.  Communications.  Send the following message to Admiral Vox.”, Driver keyed the note in his padd and pressed send.  The great ship keeled about and slipped once again into hyperspace.  He sat there satisfied.  He’d thumbed his nose at the NHC, now to see if they wanted to take it further.

The Animus blinked back into Atoran space moments later.  Driver sent orders for the rest of the new Fleet to join up on the Flagship.  The two Gladiator Class pocket carriers HFS Nazgul and HFS Viper were the first on the scene disgorging their complements of TIE Defenders.  The fighters merged with the squadrons from the Star Destroyer.  Wrath, Scourge, Vanquish, Malady, Torment and Anguish Squadrons jinked and juked about the large ship setting up a perimeter.  The Neb-B frigate HFS Lehon rounded the southern pole of Ator and held station with the CR- 90’s HFS Baronet, HFS Ratselhof, and the painfully named HFS Acola.  Vanquish and Torment Squadrons peeled off and flew CAP for the smaller ships.  They all waited.  Nothing came. 

“Comm, give me some chatter from the VE comms.  Use the codes I gave you.”

The comm officer punched in Driver’s VE codes and the noisy chatter of a frantic base came over the speakers.  Confusion, panic, fear…like music to Driver’s ears; then silence.  Geordi’s personal padd chimed an inbound message…from Denethor.

Driver smiled as he thumbed the ‘receive’ button.

To: Geordi Atrasin, Duke of Ator
Fr: RADM Kam Vox, NCC Vast Empire Navy

Touché, Driver.
Next time I blow you out of the sky.

Denethor.

You can try my friend, you can try

G killed the note, “Excellent job men, all around.  The Fleet can stand down. I want two squadrons flying far pickets and I want the T-wings from the Home Guard Fleet to relieve them in an hour and to keep flying CAP until further notice.”

“Risky move Admiral, “a clearly unnerved Targus stated with shaky voice.

“Yes, Targus, but now they know we’re out here. I much more prefer that they worry a bit when they close their eyes.  I’m coming for them, and I want them to hear my footsteps even when I’m still.”

The Admiral grinned evilly as he strode from the bridge.

WOOOOO….WOOOOO...WOOOOO….WOOOO

The klaxons shattered the silence of the Animus’ bridge, jarring Geordi from his thoughts.  The window before him filled with the gleaming presence of dozens of Vast Imperial warships.  He was outnumbered at least 3 to one on major capital ships.  What he had at hand was not enough to get out this if the shit hit the fan. 

Yulia, my love, I may be seeing you soon

“Shields up!  Lehon form up on my 3. Nazgul, Viper launch all fighters.  Main bay, scramble all squadrons!  Baronet, Ratselhof, Acola, give the carriers as much cover as you can till they launch then go for the flagship.”

The lumbering Victory-II pirouetted to meet the oncoming Imperial class ships head on. The rest of the nascent fleet disgorged their fighters and formed the best possible defensive formation they could.  Driver was proud of his small band.  They executed their maneuver with precision, skill and speed.  What more could any commander ask for…too bad it would likely be their last chance to display their skills.  Battle information streamed to the heads-up display that hung in the air before Driver’s command chair.  The Fleet was ready for the first blow.

So…why aren’t you attacking?

“Admiral!  We’re being hailed!” stammered an obviously young deck officer shaking with the fear of a child who’s suddenly realized he’s not immortal.  Driver motioned for him to open the channel.

“…ailing the HFS Animus.  This is the Maleficence.  We come in peace.  Repeat. We come in Peace.  Stand by for transmission.”

“Scanners!  Shields status on those ships!”

“Shields are down sir.  Weapons are cold, “the sound of disbelief crept into the young woman’s voice.

What are you up to?

“Good morning Driver.  Lovely day for cruise.” Crackled an all too familiar voice.

“Art?”

“Excellent, good to see old friends are not forgotten.  I thought I’d stop by to discuss your most recent stroll.  I have to say, I admired the fireworks.  Care to come aboard for a drink and a bit of reminiscence?”  His voice was calm, but the underlying tone was one of command, and implications for an invitation refused.

Geordi paused.  Arturus was a crafty veteran, this could be a trap.  Then again, he had him by the short hairs now and could obliterate him where he stood and still not spill a drop of his morning caff.

“Very well, be good to see you again old friend.”

“And you as well.  Come alone. You are cleared for hangar bay 4.  See you soon, Prince Admiral.”  The amusement in his voice was well contained, but the tinge of it caught Driver’s ear.  He knew that his ‘Fleet’ was nothing more than a fart in a hurricane to the VE, but what Art wanted he had NO idea of.

“Ready the Hawkbat.” He rose from his chair and strode briskly to the turbo.  Thoughts of torture and eventual death flashed before him.  The subjugation of his world, the death of his brother and the destruction of the entire House loomed.  Hopefully he’d be able to barter his life and a sizable portion of the family treasure for that of his brother.  Hopefully. 

The turbo stopped and he exited into the main shuttle bay.  His gleaming fighter hung ready on its docking claw, poised for flight.  The deck crew came to attention as he passed.  The looks of dread and worry were sprawled across their faces like an oil slick on still lake.  He mounted up and ran released the clamps.  The TIE gracefully slid out of the bay and into the void.

The trio of Star Destroyers hung in the ether, waiting for Driver…beckoning.  He could appreciate their power.  If he had them, he’d use them in just the same way.  Shock and awe is a powerful weapon.  He was quite sure that these three were but the tip of Art’s spear. 

He guided the fighter into the assigned bay. And set her down.  No docking clamps were available here, but a ladder was made available.  As he cleared the hatch the mystery deepened.  Before him was an assembled honor guard.  He’d expected there to be stormies, to take him into custody, but not an honor guard.  The double line snapped to attention as he walked the gauntlet.  At the end he saw Art standing with one other man.

“Welcome aboard the Maleficence, Prince Admiral.  Good to see you again.” He cheerfully spoke as he pumped Driver’s hand.

“Good to see you too…Admiral?”

“Please, Driver…call me Art.  We have no need to stand on formality here.  This is Vice Admiral Kira Wessiri, my deputy at Imperial Intelligence.  I hope you don’t mind her sitting in on our little ‘reunion’.”

“Not at all.  Not that I have any way to object, this is your show Art.”

“Well, to be truthful, this is Den’s show.  I’m just the director of this little part.” They walk through a set of doors and pass into a small conference room, “Please, sit.  Refreshments?” 

“No thank you.  What is this all about Art?  If you’re going to make me disappear down one of your VEI holes, then do so.  Dispense with the pleasantries and get it over with.  I have some things I’d like to attempt to save here before you put one behind my ear.”

Arturus laughed heartily after the outburst stilled, “I’m not here to kill you Driver…I’m here to hire you.”

“Hire me? What in the name of all the Hells are you talking about?”

“I have a proposal.  I know you’ve been actively upgrading Ator’s fleets and defenses.  I know you’ve been actively recruiting ship’s commanders form the ranks of the VE and other Warlords.  I know that you’ve been actively garnering Intel on your closest neighbors and are seeking an expansion of Atoran hegemony.  All of this is fine with Denethor… for now. “ Arturus paused.

“So gracious of him to grant me this boon.”  Driver’s temper began to flare.

The admiral twitched slightly and continued, “That being said, he wants to make sure that you do not become an ‘issue’ going forward.  He has his hands full right now with other matters, and would like t make sure that he doesn’t have to add one more.  He’s willing to give you free reign in this quadrant and even allow for a measure of ‘unofficial’ cooperation between us.  As long as you understand your place in the galaxy.”

“And where, exactly, would that be.”

“By our side, as a Friend and Ally of the Vast Empire.  I know that you’re none too happy with the way the Navy is being run right now, but Denethor wants you to look at the big picture.  You cannot survive out here against the likes of Thrawn and the Remnant alone.  You can also be an ever so lovely thorn in the sides of said folks.  Keep your independence, keep your fleet, but know that when push comes to shove, you are a VE Imperial.  You know that Thrawn wishes to be Emperor, and those buffoonish Moffs in the Remnant would lead us to a second defeat against the New Republic.  I know who you are Geordi.  You are an IMPERIAL.  You want that order.  You want that stability.  You want a return of that peace that the Emperor had imposed on the chaos of the galaxy. “

Driver sat quietly.  Art was speaking the truth.  He was also placing a very tantalizing offer on the table.  He stood and walked to the lone view port in the room.  In the distance he could see his pitifully small fleet.  He thought of the work he’d done so far, and the plans he’d already laid.  Could he let them be for naught, or more importantly, could he again pass under the VE yoke.

“What assurances will I have that you will hold up your end of the agreement?”

“Why none of course, this meeting never took place.  You can, however, have my assurance as an old comrade that this ‘arrangement’ is in the best interest of us both.  I’d advise you to accept, it will not be offered again.” His final words hung deadly in the air.

Driver looked again at the void.  The endless stars, the chaos, the cold death that permeated every atom.

“What do you need me to do.” The sting of resignation clung to every word.

“At this point, nothing.  Continue on with your plans, but know we will be in touch.” He rose and held out his hand.  Driver turned and grasped it.  No joy was on his face, for he knew the devil he was now in league with.  “Admiral Wessiri will escort you back to your craft; I have a call to make to Abrae.”

“Art.”

Hargreaves stopped in the doorway and turned, “Yes Driver.”

“Tell him if he crosses me, I’ll personally kill him.”

Smiling as he turned, “He’d expect nothing less.”

Wessiri motioned for Driver to precede her.  He quickly exited the room and retraced his path to the hangar.

“I’ve followed your career with interest Prince Admiral.  You are a difficult man to read.  You value loyalty and honesty, and yet you abandoned your command to come here?” she questioned.

“I value honor above all else Admiral, something the Vast Empire has lost.  I could not stay; the stink of dishonor was overwhelming.  I smell it still.”

She smiled.  For all his faults she could not help finding herself drawn to this man, “You seem to be dealing with it well.”

“Do not confuse necessity with desire.  I do what I must, when I must.”

They passed into the hangar and Driver quickly climbed the ladder to his craft.  Wessiri saluted and watched as it sailed out of the bay and back to the Atoran fleet.

‘We do what we must as well, good Duke.” She mused as she turned heel and marched out.


Epilogue:  Five Months Later

“You are free to commence your landing General.  I want this planet secured within the week.”

General Fidel Sonn snapped to attention, “Yes M’Lord. It will be done.”

The transmission ended.  Driver watched as the Ground Forces of the Atoran Imperial Hegemony began their assault on Vuma.  The Fleet had been bombarding the planet for several hours now, and had reduced their defenses to nil, although there was still a fighter and small craft presence. Vuma was not an overly militaristic world, and therefore posed no real long term threat to his forces.  The Fleet had grown in the last few months.  He’d added two more Neb-B’s, another Gladiator, and several more CR-90’s.  The Iron Duke, his flagship hovered outside of the combat sphere as the Second Fleet did thier bloody work. 

He rose from his command chair, descended the dias and spoke to Malou,“I’ll be in my office.  Keep me apprised on the landing.”

“Yes M’Lord.” Nodded the Correlian.

Geordi entered the office, sat at his desk, and punched in his personal, secure comm code.  The one incoming message blinked.  He thumbed the receive button and activated the holo.

“Hello, Geordi. I hope the Intel we provided on Vuma is useful.  I know Denethor is eagerly awaiting a report on your success.” A smiling Hargraves stated.

“It has.  Tell Den he can read about it in the news holos.  I’m busy.”

“Geordi, ever the angry man.  Oh well, happy hunting.  You’ll be hearing from us again…soon.” Art cut the line.

Driver slumped back into his chair and felt the cold darkness of one of his moods cover him like a blanket.  He disliked politics.  Disliked it with a passion born of a man who knew how long the filth would linger on him.  He wondered how long it would be before Art realized that he'd known the game he was running.  He was sure that Arturus would know he'd eventually mobilze his own merry band of spooks. What Art may not know, is that Driver had decided to play with a few of the Vast Empire's as well.

Flicking his secure comm line, a holo of a Vast Imperial Intellegence officer materialized before him. An officer who's acquaintance he'd made during Catachan's trial. A feral smile crept across his visage.

"Greetings Lt. Grey, how are things going on Epsilon..."

OOC:

ok, we are set and live. art can post once more on this story, but no one else. i will attempt to have something up on 'Soliders' later today for the rest of you.  then we'll dive into the Invasion of Vuma.

[OOC: Total writer's block on this but at least it's something even if it is crap.  For those following it fills in my side of the back story for all of this.]

The hissing of the hydraulic doors to the conference room stirred Corran from his thoughts.  He looked up to see Kira re-enter the room having escorted Atrasin to his fighter.  After a moment’s pause the door hissed shut again.

“Thoughts?”  Corran asked, slowly turning the chair to directly face Kira.

“He is impressive as both you and his service record suggest.  He’s also very dangerous.”  She began, taking a seat at the other end of the table.  “You’re taking a big risk Corran, I hope you know what you’re doing.”  Corran sat in thought, seemingly unmoved by Kira’s warning.  After a moment he moved his left hand to a control panel on the table and pressed the comm button.

“Yes Admiral.”  Xzara Starfall said as her miniature holographic image appeared on the display panel.

“Prepare the fleet to jump to lightspeed when you have arrived at the coordinates I am sending to the navigational computer now.  Make the jump on your command when ready Admiral Starfall.”  Corran instructed.  As he did so, he inserted a command key into the computer system and transmitted the jump coordinates and destination, a rallying point for the Seventh Fleet on the north east frontier of VE space near the Lehon system where they would join the majority of the fleet.

“Aye Sir.”  She responded with a formal nod before the image vanished.

“Corran?”  Kira asked, waiting for a response.  She knew him well enough to understand this behaviour.  His cold, unwavering demeanour was a defensive wall shielding his innermost insecurities.

“The risk is minimal for now.  Admiral Denethor ordered that the situation with Atrasin be taken care of and it has, in a rather literal way, so we both satisfy this request and can say we are acting on orders from the Naval High Command itself.  It is not really a bluff, more an elaborate ruse.  Besides, the attention of the New Republic is going to be drawn to the expansion of the Ator Hegemony soon enough, they will help keep him in check.  This is what we wanted while we secure our own position was it not?”  Corran responded.

“It is, and it will buy us enough time to take and secure the new base at Lehon and to trial our operations on Epsilon.  After that, however, I am not so sure.  We have to be careful not to show our connections to Ator if we want the NR response we are hoping for, and Zofia’s forces need to be ready in the next six months to play their role in provoking and sustaining a long-term conflict between the NR and Ator.”  The value of Ator was not as imperial ally, but rather as a diversion for the NR.  NR expansion into the outerrim near VE space, culminating recently in the defeat at Lehon under the guise of Remnant forces, had become a threat not only to VE interests in the sphere of influence outside VE space, but a nuisance and potential threat to the creation of a stealth protectorate system in nearby neutral systems.  The threat of an imperial hegemony on the Corellian run and close to key core systems such as Coruscant and Alsakan, VII’s command staff thought, could be a significant enough diversion for the NR to focus its efforts, particularly of its special operations forces, on Ator rather than systems such as Lehon.  “Atrasin’s too clever to be your pawn for long.”  Kira said after a moment’s thought.

“You mean our pawn.”

“He’s not stupid, he will figure it out and if he doesn’t then eventually their expanding intelligence network is going to begin to put pieces together and figure out down the road that we have been playing them.  I only hope we’ve achieved enough of our goals so that when the eventual battle with his fleet arrives, we can protect what we’ve gained against renewed NR attention and activity.”  Corran sat back in deep thought.  Kira was right and he knew it, he was gambling, and all he could do is race the clock.
“Construction for the Lehon base is expected to take four months correct?”  He asked.

“Closer to five though four is possible if we can find the resources.”

“Ok lets push the timetable on Lehon and Epsilon ahead.  We need our foundation set before Ator manages to secure Vuma.  The intelligence we provide to assist should be timed to coincide with our own timetables.”

“Agreed.”  Kira responded.

The office was well appointed…very well appointed.  The rich Oro wood desk gleamed in the center of the medium to large sized room.  Sparse, yet balanced, the walls were unadorned save for one large Walls piece ‘liberated’ during the Expansion Wars.  Behind the desk sat a man.  A man with a great deal on his mind. 

The news that Stormz had just given him still churned about his head.  This was going to change the Navy in a large way, and for some years to come.  Driver didn’t mind change, as long as it was reasonable and had a purpose.  He knew this change did indeed have a purpose. 

He rose from his chair to gaze into the holo-painting.  Walls technique was difficult to decipher for some, for him he enjoyed getting lost in the layers.  What he was contemplating was not an easy thing for him.  He’d labored for the last year to bring the Atoran Imperial Hegemony to fruition.  Now, he was looking down the barrel of a large blaster being held by both the Remnant and the New Republic.  His current status as Autonomous Protectorate was tenuous at best.  The VE may or may not go to war to ‘protect’ the Protectorate.  His fleet had punch, but was underpowered by Remnant standards, and a pushover by the Rebs.  His army was ignored. 

The images within the frame swirled and shifted.  The abstract shapes shifted and flowed.  Their permanence was nebulous, their impact deep.  He thought to the struggles he’d been through since putting on the uniform of the Vast Empire three years ago.  Then, he was a bored engineer from a semi-noble, mildly well-to-do family from an occasionally interesting world on the Corellian Run.  Now, he was a Duke, controller of one of the most powerful banks in the galaxy, ruler of six worlds, commander of a starfleet, and Commandant of the Naval Academy.  Not a bad ride.

He had enemies; he didn’t know a leader that didn’t.  Some were powerful, some were not.  He held most of them in regard, only a few he held in contempt.  At this moment, it was the enemies he didn’t know that occupied his mind.  Thrawn was done, but the Remnant was not.  With the Chiss Grand Admiral out of the picture things became far dicier for his situation.  Thrawn was random, but pragmatic.  He wouldn’t risk war w/both the Rebels AND several factions at the same time.  The Rebels were still consolidating their hold over their winnings but were always looking for systems to ‘liberate’.  The Druzba had broken up several sympathizer groups in the last few months.  He’d had conversations with Blue about rooting out the agitators and Imperial Intelligence was already on world. 

He also had friends.  Good friends.  Beings that he’d gone to war and came back with.  Stormz was an honorable warrior.  He’d expected no less from the Wookiee, and had received more.  The eddies and tides of VE politics had not stained his honor, and Atrasin appreciated that.  Few people here had earned his respect like the fuzzball had.  It made his decision easier.

He returned to his desk and pulled the archaic looking parchment from its top drawer.  Being a conservative man who held the old ways in high regard it was not surprising that he took an ancient ink pen from within as well.  It had been modified to carry a permanent load of ink and flow in a regular manner…he may have held the old ways in regard, but he was also a pragmatic man.  He read the documents’ header. 



He knew that the VE would be far more able to protect what he had built.  It would also give them a beachhead on the opposite side of the galaxy, a beachhead that they would need in the coming months.  The treaty allowed him to retain his ducal title and rights on Ator, he would retain control of Corusca and its riches, however the Fleet would be merged with the Navy and he’d relinquish his Admiralty.

*Hmmf, it’s just a word

He knew that authority was given and power was made…he had his power.  The Army would absorb the Atoran Ground Forces, unlikely that their squadrons would survive, but their numbers were greatly diminished in the Expansion Wars and few would argue gaining a VE rank.  He’d negotiated a rank for rank trade with Rizzit who knew he was getting some quality for a cheap price.

There were things he’d not get from this agreement.  He’d not get his father back, or Yulia.  Their loss weighed on him still, though not as heavily as in years past.  Bedav was an able administrator and the House was thriving. He’d even recently found a woman willing to deal with his foibles.  The family would continue.  Driver’s darkness had been lifting bit by bit.  The trials of the Expansion Wars had taken his mind off his losses.  He’d actually even been known to crack a smile now.  His crews didn’t take mistake his lack of ire for lightheartedness.  On the bridge of the Iron Duke he was still Driver, and not to be trifled with. 

He picked up the pen with his new prosthetic hand.  He’d recently had the older, bulkier model, along with his leg, replaced with a state-of-the-art, lifelike one.  Now, he looked and felt whole.  The stylus dashed across the page and it was done.  The VE had grown, and so had he.

OOC:

Thus endeth the Atoran Imperial Hegemony.  All these worlds are now Vast Imperial Territory and are open to all members.  You are free to write them as you please…except for Ator, that’s still mine.