Prologue

Author's notes: This story is set in the year 1 BBY, and while making occasional references to Legends material, is intended to be set within the current canon. If I definitively contradict any established canon, please point this out so I may remedy it. This story is also available on Wattpad (just to be clear that I did not steal it from there).

The Quasar cut through the space of the Outer Rim like a colossal knife. The Super Star Destroyer's target was almost in sight. Still far in the distance glittered the blue jewel that was the planet Valoccar Prime. Admiral Farek Dakken stood at attention on the bridge. His grey uniform was in such immaculate condition that only a powerful microscope would have found a wrinkle. He was cleanly shaven, displaying a strongly built chin on a well-sculpted face. His brown hair, slicked neatly back, was perhaps a centimetre longer than regulation. His blue eyes stared at the viewscreen with all the intensity of a hawk, but he shifted his footing as a frightening figure came onscreen.

"Admiral Dakken?" wheezed the figure. Moff Threll was a Chiss, complete with the characteristic blue skin and red eyes, and neatly slicked-back blue-black hair beneath his cap. Threll was in charge of governing the Unknown Regions, at least officially. An attack by an unknown assailant near Rakata Prime had started a fire on his ship, costing him the use of his right hand and incapacitating him for months while he recovered. Realizing how close he had come to losing an important governor, Emperor Palpatine had had the Moff sent for genetic enhancement. The intent had been to decrease Threll's demand for heat and oxygen in the event he should become exposed to a partial or complete vacuum. Unfortunately, the experiment had worked too well, and his body now demanded so little oxygen and heat that a normal atmosphere was toxic. Over a standard uniform, his torso was clad in flexible grey armour that protected a series of tubes that cooled the highly diluted oxygen he breathed through the mask covering the lower half of his face. The oxygen had originally been mixed with helium, but the Moff had insisted it be replaced with xenon. The helium would have made his voice sound too silly. Instead, he spoke now with a deep and reverberating tone which commanded respect, if not fear, in all who heard it. The primary drawback was the physical difficulty of breathing the heavy gas.

"Governor Viath'rel'lagreshouo, sir!" replied Dakken, straightening up even more. He always made a point to learn the full names of Chiss and to address them as such, and Threll respected him for it.

"At ease. You are familiar with your destination, I believe, Admiral?"

"Aye, sir. I grew up on Valoccar Prime. May I ask something though, sir?"

"Certainly, proceed."

"All due respect, sir, why are you overseeing this mission? The Outer Rim is Governor Tarkin's territory."

"The Governor is otherwise occupied. He has requested my assistance in establishing Imperial control over the planet."

"Thank you sir. I have no further questions. I will be arriving on schedule."

"Excellent. I have great faith in you, Admiral. You have the greatest talent and resources we can spare at your disposal. I do not care if you are able to fully establish the Empire's control. Just be certain to get those Kyber crystals."

"It will be done."

There was a moment of static, and the viewscreen went black.

"Lieutenant Greev, ETA?" asked Dakken.

"Estimated time of arrival thirty-five minutes, Admiral. Should I tell the Conqueror and the Righteousness to meet us there?"

Dakken began to reply, but cut himself off. Resting his chin in his hand, he thought.

"Negative, there could be a trap. Tell them to make the jump to hyperspace in, say, forty minutes."

"Understood."

Dakken started to return to his seat, but was interrupted.

"Sir, civilian vessel dead ahead," said Ensign Maron.

Admiral Dakken clapped his hands together and smirked.

"Oh good, the welcoming committee!" he said. A few crew members chuckled. "Ensign, contact them. Put them through on audio."

"They appear to have visual capability, sir," she pointed out.

"Huh. Well that's different. All right then, visual. Oh, hold on a minute! Can you play 'Behold the Dawn' over our intercom? Little theme music for them."

"Yes sir." Maron pressed a few buttons.

A proud Imperial anthem began to play.