Vast Imperial Shipyards, Belgaroth…Two Weeks after the Second Battle of Belgaroth

The call came in to the comm center of the Iron Duke in the wee hours of the ship’s clock. It passed from one junior bridge officer to another, then a senior bridge officer, over to the Watch Commander, who sent it off to the XO.  Mr. Pans was, of course, asleep at the time, so it went to his adjunct who promptly filed it in the ‘Immediate Delivery’ slot of his padd.  Several hours later, when Mr. Pans took over the watch, the message was duly delivered to his personal padd.

  The message pinged its arrival and the Lieutenant Commander quickly perused it.  His face turned from an inexpressive blank to a contorted visage of anger and panic. 

“MR. CRANTO! FRONT AND CENTER!” he bellowed.

  The shock and physical slap of the command jerked the young Corellian out of the ‘end of watch’ stupor that had begun to wash over him.  He quickly scurried up the stairs of the Comm pit and snapped to attention before the ship’s second in command.

Pans closed the gap between them to millimeters, “WHICH PART OF ‘IMMEDIATE DELIVERY’ IS NOT UNDERSTOOD BY YOUR MINISCULE BRAIN!”

Gulping audibly the Junior Bridge Officer stammered, “I…I...foll...followed standard…standard protocol sir.”

Pans partially turned away from the ensign in disgust only to round on him and lay him flat with an expertly delivered backhand slap.  He knelt down to the stunned man, the red welt growing on his cheek, grasped him by the collar and hauled him close.

In a low, dark voice he rasped, “When a communiqué marked ‘Immediate Delivery’ for the Commodore comes across the comms you do EXACTLY what it says, YOU IMMEDIATELY DELIVER IT! 

Pushing the man back to the floor in disgust Pans turned to the Officer of the Watch, “Mr. Ioehci, remove this man from my ship, I’ll not have this incompetence fouling my craft or my Navy.”

The Lieutenant nodded and signaled for the two Stromtroopers guarding the turbo lift to hoist the stunned man to his feet, and off the bridge. 

Pans saw none of that, as he was already on his way to the Commodore’s quarters.  0500 would not be a pleasant time to wake the Duke, but then again, when a communiqué of this nature came down it would be unpleasant regardless of the time.  He stood before his CO’s quarters in a matter of moments.  The door opened seconds before he depressed the ‘call’ button, in front of  him stood a bleary-eyed and perturbed Geordi Atrasin.

Even after serving under the Commodore for more than three years, actions like this unnerved Pans. 

“Commander, why is one of my Junior Officers floating away from the Bridge airlock?”

Pans knew that the cybernetic implants in the Duke’s body had alerted him to an unauthorized usage of the ship’s airlocks.

“I apologies M’lord, but it was a fitting punishment. Mr. Cranto failed to deliver this to you in a timely manner.” He cast his eyes downward in a sufficient show of humility as he handed the padd to Atrasin.

Taking the offered padd, Geordi scanned the information. The sleep washed away, replaced by a cold, deadly look of determination.

“Flank speed to Ator, Red Alert.”

Pans nodded his acknowledgement, and turned to carry out the order.

The heat of his fury built up in him as he donned his standard Black on Black uniform. Geordi eschewed the code cylinders most men of his rank possessed; being half cyborg he had no need for them. He also disposed of the, once ubiquitous, duty cap. He found it to be a useless anachronism to a time when sailors actually saluted their superiors.  Geordi believed a curt nod was all that was needed. It was efficient and crisp, and all that was needed.  He composed a message to the Atoran Civil Guard and the Chief of Security for the House.  They would be ready and waiting for him by the time he arrived.

The bustle and hum of the Bridge instantaneously muted as the Commodore strode to his command chair. Silently orders were relayed and the Bridge was rigged for battle.  Pans appeared at his Duke’s side as he slid into the soft bantha leather of the chair.

“How long has this been going on?”

The XO stated, “The communiqué arrived 7 hours ago, M’lord. The first of the outbreaks took place three hours before that.”

“Have we heard any more from the Hoff?”

“No M’lord, I sent second signal requesting a SitRep the moment I received the initial message.  We have sent it via Highest Priority VE encryption, but NOT via Limey.”

Driver rankled at his continual failure to find the source of the breach of LIMEY.  His already dark visage darkened further.

“Do we have a known starting point for all of …this, “he curtly quipped as he waved his hand over the information on the padd?

“Yes M’lord, it seems to have been growing, unchecked since last days of the Expansion Wars.  It has remained underground, to this point.  It is well organized and well funded, as of now VENI can only theorize that it is New Republic inspired.”

“On Holo.”

Images of thousands of Atorans, all ages and all levels of wealth filled the space before him.  Marching, chanting, carrying crudely drawn and professionally done signs decrying the Vast Empire and demanding freedom from it.

“Their manifesto claims that of the 63 cantons, only 1…Atrasinhoff supported the annexation to the VE, and that, regardless of your position as Duke, they have the right…,” Pans’ voice trailed off,”… to remove Ator from the VE.”

Geordi’s eyes narrowed to mere slits as the holo continued to show the roiling mass of humanity in the streets of Atrasinhoff.

“Do they now.”

Driver thumbed the direct link to Ator, a ‘hotline’ of sorts directly to his brother’s personal comm.  Bedav Atrasin answered immediately.

“Brother, do exactly as I say.”

“Yes, M’lord, “years of instinctual obedience to the Head of House Atrasin kicked in.

“Cut all Comms in and out of Ator EXCEPT for VE Military channels.  Activate the Defense Force. Seal the Planet, full lockdown. No ships in, no ships out. Is this demonstration confined to Atrasinhoff?”

“No M’lord, there are smaller ones in Llany and in Aidci; otherwise Atrasinhoff is the main protest.”

“Good, seal all three cities. Kill all local comms; commercial and private. Let them rant till I arrive, but I want NO ONE to see this. Understood?”

“Perfectly M’lord…Brother, its bad.”

“I know, I will take care of it.”

The holo cut out leaving Atrasin alone again with his Exec, “Mr. Pans, ETA to Ator?”

“Under an hour M’lord.”

“Good, tell the Wing to prepare to fly Air Superiority in case we have unwanted interference from our Republican friends.  Alert the ground forces. Have them ready to land on my mark. Full combat supplies. “

Slightly disturbed by this order Pans queried, “Ground Forces sir, are you sure?”

“Oh yes Pans, quite sure.  I’m going to negotiate, and I never negotiate from a position of weakness.”

Pans nodded and moved to relay the orders even more afraid of his commander than he’d ever been before.

Atrasin sat in his chair and watched in silence, deathly silence.

OOC:

1217 words

“Status Mr. Pans”

The timbre of the request/order was one of anticipation and irritation melded together.  Geordi Atrasin, Duke of Ator, Chief of Naval Operations of the Vast Imperial Navy, and disciple of order was not what one would classify as a ‘happy camper’ on any world…in any galaxy.  The news that a massive anti-Imperial protest had broken out on his home planet had taken his usually sullen mood and dropped it precipitously close to lethal.

Knowing his commander inside and out had paid dividends for Pans. He’d advanced quickly under the Commodore and was now XO for the number two ship in the VEN.  The Iron Duke was every inch the Commodore’s ship.  Modifications to the drive cores allowed for more speed and greater handling.  Additions to the weapons array had upped her firepower to nearly one and a half times what a standard Imp Deuce would be.  Her fighter squadrons were in the process of being updated from Interceptors to Avengers, at the Commodores personal expense.  All of this was under his command, all because he knew how to keep one man from losing his legendary temper and committing the gravest mistakes at the most inopportune times.

This was one of those times.

The Duke was hurtling toward an Ator marginally wracked by protests.  Protests against an Empire that was genetic in its essentially to Geordi Atrasin.  He had blood in his eyes, Pans was working to keep it off his hands.

“We are a little more than an hour out from Huur Station.  Lord Bedav reports that communications are down planet wide, and the local security forces have sealed the cities.  As of now, the protests are peaceful in nature, “emphasis was placed on the lack of violence in hopes the Duke’s anger would subside.

Atrasin shifted in his seat as the information and holo feeds materialized before his command chair.  Estimations of the number and scope of the protests scrolled by as Driver intently watched the crowds.  The seething resentment for the Vast Empire came through the images.  The chanted slogans filled the sealed bridge with a cacophony of protest.  His eyes narrowed to slits as he took in more and more.

Pans didn’t like this at all.  The feeds were only darkening his mood.  He was leaning into the holos now, a trait that signaled he’d gone into a strategic thinking mode.

He’s preparing his battle plans

“Major Ehbrow report to the Bridge.”

DAMN, not Ehbrow

Major Hectorius Ehbrow was in command of the 396th Vast Imperial Marine Expeditionary Force, known as the Duke’s Hammer.  The full battalion of Imperial Marines and their gear resided in the belly of the ISD, waiting to be unleashed.  Pans knew that if Atrasin was calling Ehbrow the decision had been made.

“M’lord, do you really think we need Major Ehbrow’s services to quell this dispute,” regret slapped him the moment the words left his mouth.

Cocking an eyebrow the CNO’s head tilted in the direction of his XO, “What would YOU suggest Mr. Pans?”

The inflection was crystal clear, “Impress me or you’ll be on the next shuttle to Eyesore as a cabin boy.”

“I…I was merely thinking that a massive show of force coupled with some broadcasted words of conciliation; coupled with an offer of mediation and a redress of their grievances would give you the appearance of ‘rising above’ the politics of the situation.  The ‘High Road’, M’lord.”

Atrasin nodded absent-mindedly and returned to the holos.

The bridge turbo hissed open and deposited the Marine commander in the presence of his superior.  Short, stocky and scarred he was every stereotype one could think of as veteran fighting man.  His dark green uniform hugged his rugged physique; his gait was that of a warrior-born – ready to pounce with each step.  His visage was unwavering and hard.  He was every inch the Commodore’s kind of man.

“Reporting as ordered, M’lord,” the crisp diction of his Serra Vessan accent, and his years of battlefield command, cut the words off as they left his mouth.

“Major, what would YOU do on Ator if given the opportunity?”

The infantry man made no move other than to begin speaking, “M’lord, it’s obvious this rabble has decided to ignore the laws and customs of the Vast Empire and engage in an illegal and immoral display of disobedience to the rightful rulers of Ator. I would cut them off from their compatriots and ‘remind’ them of their duties to the Empire.”

Trey Pans knew he’d regret asking the following question, but ask it he did, “How would you ‘remind’ them of this Major?”

“With boots, blasters and bombardment, sir.”

Pans had no problem killing. It was his job. He didn’t even have problems killing personally, as he did with Cranto, but he did have issues with wholesale slaughter.  He was about to remark to this point, when his personal comm pinged.

Damn

“M’lord, we’ve arrived at Ator.”

Atrasin nodded, “Gentlemen, it would seem I have a choice to make.”

OOC:

835 words.

do i kill or chat...hmmmm

“We will try things your way Pans, for now.”

The Executive Officer breathed a slight sigh of relief and prayed to whatever deities may protect the people of Ator to give them the good sense to not press the issue with their Duke, “Yes. M’lord.”

“Major Ehbrow, I want your men in full battle gear, five days rations, loaded aboard their transports and AT-AT’s ready to strike on my mark. You will stage yourself here,” he pointed to a location some one hundred clicks outside of Atrasinhoff in an old industrial zone, “Be prepared to deploy on my mark.”

Pans stared somewhat gap-mouthed at his superior.

“What? You truly expect me to NOT be prepared to end this farce if I deem it necessary? Mr. Pans, you may be a fine Bridge Officer, but you have much to learn about ruling.”

With that Geordi rose from his command chair, taking the attention-stiffened nods of salute from his men as he made his way to the tubolift. 

“Main Hangar, Chief, have my shuttle, Leth Company of the 396th,  and one flight of Boar-Wolf ready to depart when I arrive.”

The doors slid shut before the acknowledgment came, but both men knew it would come.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Ehbrow? You know you can’t possibly wade into those crowds, blasters loose; it’ll be a bloodbath, “Pans’ anger and panic overflowed on the Marine.

The Major’s cold, unwavering gaze never left the younger man’s eye, “I do what my Commodore commands me to do, boy. You would do well to learn this trait if you wish to remain an IMPERIAL officer.”  With that he turned on his heel and followed Atrasin off the Bridge. 

Pans felt the cold realization that this was not a battle he could win.

Staring out of the wall of plasteel windows that ringed the command center of the ISD, he asked himself, “What more can I do…”


Imperial Square, Atrasinhoff, Ator

Geordi sent the TIE’s ahead to buzz the crowd, hopefully there were veterans there that would know what was going to take place, some may yet survive.  Jillee piloted the Lambda to a near flawless landing in the middle of the now cleared square.  His grandfather had once held audiences here to the delight of his subjects; something told Driver the current occupiers would be less than thrilled with his presence.

The Imperial Marines came to rigid attention as Atrasin nodded for the hatch to be lowered, he could hear the hush fall over the cacophony of the masses.  So far the trappings of power had worked exactly as they should, now to see how far they would carry him.  He strode forward into the middle of the Marines; upon reaching the middle they began their march down the ramp.  The spectacle of the second in command of the Vast Empire Navy and Sovereign Lord of Ator marching out into the bright sun of his homeworld and into the middle of thousands of mute protesters would have stirred anyone.  The troopers formed a circular cordon around the Commodore as a chair was brought out of the shuttle by his droid/pilot.

Once the crowds had been pushed back sufficiently, Driver sat, internally activated his vocorder’s amplifier and spoke in a booming voice, “People of Ator, I am here.  Why have you forced my return?”

Silence blasted across the plaza.

“I ask again, why have I been summoned here?  Who among you will speak to me?”

Slowly a murmur arose to the southwest.  The crowds parted as a young man, dark of hair and thin of build moved to the line of Troopers.

“I will speak for The 63,” he cried, a slight crack in his voice.

Atrasin motioned for the Marines to let him pass within the circle, internally he communicated to the sniper he had inside the shuttle to keep a bead on him at all times.

Cautiously the man made his way toward the Duke. He walked past the customary ten pace barrier and strode within three feet of the seated Atrasin, he failed to bow or in any way acknowledge his Duke.  By this time Geordi was somewhere between furious and amused by the bravado of this boy.

“To whom do I have the honor of speaking to today?”

Again the words caught in his throat, Driver could tell his heart rate was elevated and he was highly stressed, “I am Alain Veemoor of Atrasinhoff. I have been elected to represent the people of Ator in this matter.”

“Really? Here I had been under the assumption that as Duke ‘I’ represented the people of Ator, but very well…sit, and speak, “he motioned for a second chair to be brought forward.  Veemoor sat and unrolled the papers he’d been clutching from the moment Geordi saw him.

Leaning forward in his chair, Geordi smiled slightly, “Tell me what is on your mind, I’ve been… so wanting to know.”

OOC:

825 words, and a very, very dangerous time for mr. Veemoor

Standing emotionless several hundred stories above Geordi watched the ragged would-be rebels file away from their more suicidal brethren.  They were the smart ones, they would see another sunrise.  The rest, well the Gods had not yet decided their fates.  The ping of the Comm unit disturbed the silence of the holo feed.

“Is that him again?”

Jillee nodded, “This is his seventh attempt to reach you Master.”

“Let him twist a bit more.”

The Duke, the Mad Duke, the Abomination, Vader’s Bastard…the epithets ran through his mind. He knew he wasn’t mad, and –while flattering – not a drop of Lord Vader’s blood coursed through his veins.  However, an abomination he may very well be.  The cybernetic implants in his skull linked him to Jillee, the ‘Hof’s defense net, and the main computer aboard the Duke.  He essentially had the omniscience of a god.  He flexed his left hand as it rested behind his back in his right.  It, along with his left leg was the highest iteration of replacement limbs, augmenting his speed and his strength.  Even with all of these ‘upgrades’ his most useful weapon was still the most organic, his mind.  With it he postulated several scenarios for what was to take place below.  Carnage, terror, relief, and shock…all played out in his mind.  He still hadn’t truly decided the fates of those bold enough to challenge his, and Imperial, rule here on Ator. 

Soon though, very soon

His personal comm line pinged for the first time that day.  Only he and his brother knew this frequency…and now, unsurprisingly, so did Captain Grey.

Smirking he accepted the hail, “What do you want Grey?”

He stabbed the kill switch wishing it was one of Grey’s eyes.

Insufferable martinet

He keyed in Major Ehbrow’s advance HQ, shortly a holo of an officer in full battle armor stood before him. Ehbrow preferred to be on the ground with his troops and sported modified Stormtrooper armor.  The comm arrays on his helmet and orange epaulet denoted that he was a ‘hands-on’ commander.

“Major, proceed with attack plan Peth.”

The left eyebrow of the Marine twitched slightly as the order was given; he nodded his obedience and helmeted up, “Yes M’Lord.”

Driver instructed his holo to give him the widest possible shot of Imperial plaza.  He wanted to watch the operation in real time.

Simultaneously, several hundred Troopers came to battle attention.  Their E-11’s held at waist height a widened, more solid stance taken, and they began to move forward.  The remaining protesters began to draw themselves together in the center of the plaza. Tactically, not the best move, but when you are surrounded, where else would you go?

The Stormtroopers methodically advanced from all sides forming an ever tightening noose around the neck of the erstwhile freedom fighters.  Several of them linked arms and sat down in front of the oncoming wave of white plasteel.  The response was a volley of blaster fire.

Screams now rent the air as all of the Stormtroopers followed suit.  The protesters fell like so much grain to the scythe.  The troopers were now stepping over the prone bodies of the outer edges of the mass.  Like frightened banthas they’d attempted to stampede through the cordon.  The heavy repeating blasters of the AT-AT dropped them, fifty at a shot.  Eventually, the protesters saw the futility in running, fighting and any action other than surrender. 

Dozens of cargo haulers sped into the plaza and collected the prone and the ambulatory.  Within one hour of the order being given not a trace of the protest showed in Imperial Plaza.

“Reopen all planetary and extra-planetary communications.  The official story is that there was a massive energy spike that took out the main broadcast node in Atrasinhoff.  Make sure the appropriate ‘facts’ are generated to cover the story.  I will be in my study for the foreseeable future. Alert me when the prisoners are processed.”

Geordi strolled through the halls of his ancestral home pondering what the final outcome of this should be.  The Holonet would be buzzing as to what happened.  He knew of at least one reporter that had attempted to steal out of the plaza with footage of the operation.  He and his droid were now ‘guests’ of his.  He decided that he’d let them speculate for a few weeks and then release an ‘official’ report.  He’d couple the release with some sensational story of one of the larger Holonet stars making a new feature on the streets of Ator.  The story would be buried and forgotten. 

His personal comm pinged in his head, “Yes Major?”

Ehbrow’s form materialized from an ornately decorated and well hidden holo relay built into the wall of the particular room Geordi had happened into, “The prisoners have been processed and tagged.  No readily available, non-military, scanners will be able to detect them.  They have all been released.”

Geordi smiled.  ’limited capabilities’ my ass

“Excellent job Major…and the rest of the prisoners?”

The Marine officer glanced at his padd, “Of the 947 total targets in Imperial Plaza 256 surrendered ambulatory, the remaining 691 were removed after being incapacitated by E-11’s set to ‘stun’.  Of that number approximately 163 were given medical treatment for injuries sustained when they were hit by the AT-AT’s stun blasts.  Mainly due to the higher level of power it put out.  Some were treated for cuts and broken bones incurred in the attempted stampede. No deaths were reported.”

“Perfect. I’ve already logged your commendation and promotion to Lt. Colonel.  Return all forces to the Iron Duke and stand down.”

News of his promotion swelled the man visibly as he replied, “Yes M’Lord.  Thank You.  Ehbrow out.”

He activated his internal comm and moments later the head of the Druzba flickered before him, “Is he awake?”

Nodding silently the agent motioned toward the restrained man, “He’s not too happy about his current accommodations.  He’d like to see the manager.”

“I’m on my way.”

Moments later Driver strode into the Interrogation Room.  Strapped to a particularly nasty looking table was Alain Veemoor.  No longer the nerve-wracked sputtering idealist, no…now the masque had dropped for all to see.

“M’lord Duke why am I here? I’ve done nothing to warrant this, I beg you please, release me!”

Driver smiled a slight, warm smile as he slowly walked around the table holding the man.  He gently caressed his face and lightly tousled his hair as he spoke softly, “That is because I ordered them to keep you there Veemoor. Oh, I’m sorry; Ensign Grey is the more accurate sobriquet is it not?”

The VENI spook spat in anger as his cover was ripped from him, “Damn it all, if you know who I am then why am I here?”

Still smiling, Driver took a seat in the lone chair directly across from the Grey, crossed his legs, folded his hands and softly said, “Because you and I are going to have a little chat about the activities of yourself and your compatriots on MY planet.”

“You’re a fool Atrasin.  I’ll never speak, and when the Captain finds out about this YOUR head will roll,” words gushed out like a broken water main, contempt and fear nuancing every word.

“No, I don’t think so. You see, you no longer exist.  You have evaporated from this world like so many tears on a Tatooinean street.  You are mine, and I want answers.”
The Grey swallowed audibly; he knew what was coming and resigned himself to it. he knew he’d not give up the answers the cyborg wanted…well, not while he could consciously help it.  He also knew that he was a dead man.  It was a hazard of this game, and he’d willingly played it.  He just never thought his end would come at the hands of one of his own.

The cell door opened, allowing the IT-3 Interrogation droid to enter, “Now,” cheerfully quipped Driver, “shall we begin?”


Several Hours Later…

The comm pinged for the third time before Ensign Porl Suthno slapped the ‘receive’ button.  It was well past 0400 and several hours before his shift began.

“What?!” he shouted at the unknown caller.

“Now, now Lieutenant Grey. Is that anyway to speak to a superior?”

Porl blanched, “M’lord why are you calling me on an unsecured line?”

“Oh, it’s secured. I’ve seen to that.  I wanted to call and let you know I’m none too pleased with you right now.”

A thin sheen of sweat formed instantaneously on the young VENI operator, “Why, what have I done to displease you M’lord?”  Fear was now overwhelming his thought processes.  He was frantically searching for the source of his master’s displeasure and the way out from his wrath.

“Porl, my dear boy, Grey was running an operation on MY planet and I didn’t know about it?  Bad form sir, very bad form.  Why do I pay you such a hefty amount of credits if I don’t get the information I need when I need it?”

“M’lord, the Captain doesn’t share every operation with me. I didn’t know he was on Ator.”  Terror was the only thing on his mind at that moment.

“So, you don’t have access to everything?”

“No M’lord.”

“And you had no idea that he was actively working to infiltrate my planet?”

“No M’lord.”

“Hmm…then I no longer see a need for you.”

“Ye..NO, wait M’lord; I can still help you…”

“No, you cannot.  Chidinkalu.”

The implanted code word set things in motion the Grey felt a twinge and tried to shake it off, but he was already dead.  The young man began to experience shortness of breath and an extreme headache.  The pain in his skull grew and grew. His hand attempted to keep the feeling at bay, but was it was futile.  The aneurism that the Druzbah imprinters had cultivated would soon explode and would be fatal. Eventually, the pain overwhelmed him.  His shallow breathing slowed further and stopped.  It would be at least nine hours before they found the body, by then all trace of Geordi's call would be erased.  Grey would have nothing to work with.

Driver hated to waste assets, especially one he’d cultivated since Arturus was in charge of VENI, but sometimes you had to know when to cut your losses, and this was a loss. As always he found a way to turn a current defeat into a long run victory.  Grey would pay for the temerity of interfering in Atoran affairs. He'd be reminded what the Empire of old ran on...revenge.  Looking at his padd Driver read the most recent VENI classified communique. He had other assets in place.  Assets that were far better placed.  Assets that he would use and discard.  Such is the nature of Empire.