Chapter 2: Decline of an Empire
Moff Tyron sat in his chair, looking at the hologram in front of him. Supreme Admiral Balan stood there, clearly distracted by the commotion going on in the ship he was on. Tyron waited for him to continue his report, his fingers stroking his clean-shaven chin.
Tyron was fifty-five standard years old. He had been alive to see the Clone Wars as a teenager while he grew up on Scanty Station, a poor space port on Alder Nine. Tyron had gone to the Imperial Academy when it first opened and had gained some distinction for his explorations in the Unknown Regions, adding two percent of the complete knowledge of the Galaxy at large. His last action had been a minor skirmish with the Ssi-ruvi who attempted to take control of Gorgon, but his fast hit-hard tactics had forced them to pull back.
He had then been offered by Thrawn when he took control of the Empire a position of Moff. He had taken it without much adieu, humbled by the fact that Thrawn, head of the Empire had seen fit to give him such a perstiges position. But now, three years after Thrawn Reign, he was no longer a member of a group number 50. Merely seven member remained of the Council and he was no longer impressed with his position in the Empire.
And now, he was the head of all military operation currently going on throughout the Galaxy. A war which he was slowly loosing and knew it.
"We've captured all the outposts leading straight to Coruscant," Balan finally said, after angrily dismissing his first officer.
"How was resistance?" Tyron asked.
"Not too heavy," Balan replied, "Most of it was scattered at best and they didn't even have time to send distress signals."
"Good," Tyron said with a smile, "Now tell me, did you conduct the recon like I asked you too?"
"Yes sir," Balan replied, an aide handing him a datapad which he signed and waved off, "The defenses are most impressive sir. Casualties will be high, even if we took them by surprise."
"What about the secondary targets?" Tyron prodded, "Will they be a great nuisence?"
"This plan won't work unless we have everyone in place going as they are suppose to," Balan said, sounding a bit disdainful of his comrades abilities to do their part, "But I think it can be done."
"If we are ever going to win this war it has to be through well-timed attacks," Tyron said, "and our defenses to hold firm. Hold there at Alderaan Shards until I give the greenlight."
"Yes sir," Balan said, and saluting said, "Long Live the Empire."
"Long Live the Empire," Tyron said, and pushing a button ended the transmission.
He started to lean back in his chair, glad that call was over. He didn't like Balan, despite his political victory by bringing the different factions of the Empire together. He felt in his bones Balan wanted nothing less then complete control of the Empire.
He closed his eyes for a second, rubbing his eyelids. He had been up since 600 hours, and he was tired. He opened them just in time to see a red light that started to blink almost immediatly and sighing he leaned forward and pushed the comlink button. General Dallaz appeared, but he didn't look very good. Even in the holograph he was visibly dirty.
"This had better be good news General," Tyron warned, although he could already tell he wasn't going to like what he heard, "your position is key to an entire sector."
"I am sorry to report a heavy task fleet of Republic ships attacked my sector while we were conducting war games," General Dallaz said with a heavy voice, "Their attack was perfect and we were unable to switch from our weapons from safe-mode to active."
"How long ago was this?" Tyron asked.
"Six hours ago," Dallaz said.
"What is the status of the Twelth Fleet?" Tyron inquired.
"The entire fleet was captured along with Eleventh, which was conducting needed repairs at Caluula Spacedocks," Dallaz replied and a heavy explosion could be heard in the background.
"You lost two entire fleets?" Tyron asked quietly and coldly and even on the other end of the line General Dallaz knew he was in trouble.
"Yes sir," he said sadly.
"Why were not ships out on patrol?" Tyron asked softly, "They could have warned your fleets in advance of the attack."
"A recon three days ago reported no activities in the Rebel space," Dallaz tried to defend himself.
"The Cornese Mandate is very crucile to the Perlemian Trade Route which supplies half of our Empire with much-needed supplies," Tyron said very slowly, "And you relied upon three day old data? You fool. What do we still control?"
"Lianna and Ossus," Dallaz replied with some sort of pride, "My boys will fight to the last man."
"You better be that last man," Tyron said, "because if they capture those planets they can strike at Belderone, Kulthis and Rhen Var. Although, your loss of the planet Rudrig and Raxus allows them easy access to Vaynai. The cut in our supplies will make half of our Empire suffer and will open such a breach in our defenses we will have no choice but to pull out of there entirely."
"Our defense will be so brilliant they will have to make me a hero," Dallaz replied with a weak laugh. Blasterfire could now be heard from down the hall Dallaz was standing in, and he turned around and shouted, "You three! Join the defense near the door!"
"You lost us sixteen percent of our entire fleet in six hours!" Tyron hissed at him, "My entire gameplan for this upcoming Campaign is now in shambles, because I am going to have to redeploy forces from other fronts. If you live you will be executed on sight."
And with that he pushed a button and turned the transmission off.
Tyron lived near the War Office on Bastion and so he was walking today. There was no need to rush anyways, it wasn't like the Emperor was alive to come make a personal visit. He had worked fast, peeling off Pealleon's Third Fleet from it's course towards their jump off point at Gala where they would join in the assault against the Core Worlds and sent them quickly to Rhen Var, where from there they would hold until the ships from the Sixth and Fifth fleets that he had pulled from those fleets could plug the gap near Vaynai.
This was a nightmare he never seemed to wake up from. These were the best the Empire had to offer? They were boys compared to the greatness of the old commanders. The best commander out there right now was Pealleon, he at least could perhaps retake the vital Cornese Mandate without much loss. But losses would still be incured.
When he had taken command of all Imperial Military Opertations, there had still been one hundred twenty thousand Star Destroyers, one million support ships and five hundred million troops in the Empire. But now, there was less then twelve thousand Star Destroyers, three hundred thousand support ships and ten million troops. The Empire was losing this war, and the attack on the Core Worlds was almost now where it should be scrapped.
He walked through the streets and passed the masses of humans and aliens that populated this world. Many held up flimsy signs on street corners that said, "End the War!" "Make Peace!" "We're Doomed!" Many threw him harsh glances and he passed by a long bearded old man, who sat on the ground, a stormtrooper infront of him, credits pilled inside. A sign hung from his neck that said, "Served at Hoth and Endor. Lost my leg at Dathomire. Now broke. Any Credits will do fine."
He dropped three credits in, and the man looked at them with glee and looking up saw his benefactor. His lips twisted in rage and he shouted, "How many more of us have to die before you listen to reason Moff! The Empire is dying because of people like you!"
As he said this, a stormtrooper squad came up, and two men peeled off. They marched up to him, knocking over the helmet and the credits that had filled it poured over the ground. The man desperatly tried to grab the scattered credits but two sets of hands siezed him by the arms pits and lifted him and saying, "Let's go" carried him off, his shouting curses at Moffs and Grand Admirals and the like shrinking as they got further and further away.
He had been rooted to the spot as this had transpired. Not out of shock or pity though. He did because he realized the truth in the man's words.
He walked up to his apartment and way sliding the key through the door when he saw one of the cildren from one of the lower floors come walking up to him purposefully. He looked over at her in amausement as she walked up to him and tugged his pant legs. He looked down at the shinning face of the girl and he knelt down, putting his hand on one knee, now being able to look her straight in the face.
"Why hello little one," Tyron asked, "How are you today?"
"I'm ok," she said, "When can my daddy come home?"
He looked at her with a kind smile and said, "What does your daddy do?"
"He's a TIE Pilot," she said proudly, "He flies near Mom Istallashun."
He knew what she meant. She meant Maw Installation. He must be part of the Special Forces. Their current assignment was to find weak points in the Republic Forces that they could exploit.
""You must be proud of him," Tyron said, "You love your daddy very much don't you."
"Mommy says Daddy loves me," she said sadly, "But I don't think so. I think he only likes to kill people."
"Why would you say such a thing?" Tyron asked in surprise.
"He never has come to see me," she said with tears starting to come from her eyes, "He didn't even see me get born. All he does is stay away and fight and kill people. Mommy told me killing is bad."
"Your mother is a wise woman," Tyron said, with a sad smile, "It isn't right to kill people. But sometimes, to protect other people, some people have to die."
"I just want my daddy to see me and never leave," the girl said and starting to cry. She threw herself at him, throwing her arms around him. Tyron was a little stunned and uncomfortable. He had never been good with children, and after a few awckward seconds put his hand on her back and started to pat it.
"I am sorry Moff," a womans voice came and he looked up to see a woman come running up to him, "I told Ariel to stay on the Second Level."
"No worries my dear," he said, picking up the girl and handing her to her mother, "She had a question to ask. She wanted to know when her daddy would be coming home. What is the father's name? I can have him take a two week furlough."
The woman looked at him. Not with anger or guilt, but something that chilled him more. Just a cold deadness to her. Her hands around her child seemed to grow limp, and he was afraid she was going to drop her daughter.
"He died a year ago near Ord Mantell," she said softly, "Fighting to allow you time to escape to Bastion. This war will never end until we are all dead, isn't it?"
He couldn't answer as she turned and walked away, her daughter still shuddering from the sobs she poured out.
"And in other news today, polls were taken to see what the percentage was for people wishing to continue the war with the New Republic."
"Excuse me Sorj. It's Rebel Alliance, not New Republic."
"You are quiet right Marx. At any rate, The polls are 65% are for continuing the war effort, while 35% say, let's just be done and over with."
"Those were the Galactic idiots right."
"You got that right Marx."
"Not again," Maach Zerno said as he put his drink on the table.
"What's that?" Tyron asked, looking up from his datapad.
"I'm head of the Population Committee that does those ridiculous polls when you aren't here," Maach said, "And they again switch the numbers. Only thirty-five percent are for carrying on the war. Sixty-five percent are against it."
"The news is nothing more then a political tool to get the current Imperial Standpoint across," Tyron said distantly, "If you want, I can stay home and you can attend to your servant duties more often."
"I think I'm fine," the man said.
Maach Zerno was no ordinary person; his blue scales on his hands and ears a clear indicator of that. He was a Hisok, a member of a race on some planet that Tyron had no idea nor any real intrest in finding out about. It was very different for people to see an alien running around with let alone be living in the same apartment as a Grand Moff, considering the hyped up xenophobia of the Empire. Truely though, ever since the Emperor died, slavery in the Empire had declined by seventy-two percent.
"And tonight's story for "Rebel Lines" is about the upcoming wedding between General Wedge Antilles and his fiance, the ravishing Reina Faleur. It's only two weeks away."
"Although you can tell why Antilles married that girl right?"
"Because she does have got herself-"
"Sorj, there are children watching this as well."
"But we adults all got that right?"
"She's quiet a babe," Maach commented out loud and Tyron looked up at the screen and his eyes widened.
"So that's where you are," he smiled to himself, "I might just have to pay you a visit my dear."
"Hey Boss," Maach asked, "When are you going to marry that one chick? Ysanne Isard."
"She's dead you idiot," Tyron threw a sharp glance at his servant, "And for that you can also clean the windows a second time."
Maach stood up and bowing said, "Right away Boss man."
Tyron rolled his eyes and Maach walked to leave the room. He stopped suddenly and hesitated said, "You know what I want?"
"What's that?" Tyron said, his eyes having returned to his datapad.
"To return to Hiosk my homeworld for even a day and see my family again," he said.
"You have every fourteenth to seventeenth days off," Tyron said, "You could go back to see them then."
"Hiosk is in Republic territory," Maach said sadly, "and you know as well as I do that you can't cross the boundaries without an entire fleet to bear down on you."
"True," Tyron said, "But they probably enjoy being outside of Imperial control."
"Actually, they want back in," Maach said, turning back to him, "It was Lord Vader himself who drove the Hutts and Trandoshians off our planet. He put our planet as a slave exempt planet, as he did with so many. We honor the Empire, for they rebuilt us."
Tyron had looked up, stunned by such a revelation. He had never dreamed any planets would actually want to be back in the Empire once they got out. Could it actually be true? He leaned back and mulled it over in his head.
"Vader as you know had an aversion to slavery and particullarly hit the Toydarians and Hutts pretty hard," Tyron remarked, "I've always wondered why."
"I've heard he started out as a slave," Maach said, to which his master threw back his head and roared with laughter at the absurdity of such a notion. The greatest force in history being a slave? That was so pathetic it was stupid and unlikely.
"If only more planets would be as willing as Hiosk," Tyron said, with a humorless chuckle, "It would be worth having a ceasefire with the Republic."
"Believe me sir," Maach said with all sincerity, "There are a lot of planets who feel the same way. Well, I'll get to those windows. You know how dirty they can get."
