Chapter 6: Military Presence
The staging area around Zendo Nark, also called Shards of Alderaan, looked nothing like the old outpost of the New Republic. Despite being captured and no one on the strike team that assault the outpost knowing the codes to keep the station running, the original garrison had set their transmissions to be automatic, continually repeating the same "All Clear" message. But, everything was certainly not so alright.
Stormtrooper battalions marched in unison off their Star Destroyers, which compared to the almost asteroid-like typography and little atmosphere, seemed to be like giant daggers laid out by some forgotten giant on a table. The battalions headed off towards camoflauged bunkers that had been quickly thrown up over the past two weeks by engineers. The bunkers looked nothing more then rocks jutting from the already rock strewn landscape.
Squadrons of twelve TIE Fighters screamed along the surface, weaving around the rock pillars that jutted up from the landscape, patrolling continually for any survivors of the garrison that might not have been on the base at the time, and keeping a lookout for any Republic fighters that might stray too close to them. A massive Star Destroyer of the new Palpatine-Class dwarfed the landscape, barely in the atmosphere but just a look up at it could tell the long slender destroyer was anything but a diplomatic ship.
The patrols themselves were merely a precaution. The Star Destroyers were set up with the new Stealth 1 cloaking device. They were experimental, and despite the ability of the ships to now at least be able to see vague shapes of ships on their sensors, could not have them activated in hyperspace. To do so would almost be suicidal.
And standing on a balcony, overlooking the task force taking a twelve hour rest period before the assault began, was one of the masterminds of Operation: Imperial Return. Supreme General Derk Grant looked upon what was proceeding as scheduled and for a moment was taken back to the days of the Empire's height and glory and prestige. Looking down upon it he was reminded of the day when he was able to look upon a vast see of grey, white, and black, and see no end to it.
"Impressive sight," the man next to him yawned, not so impressed.
Grant threw a glance over at him. Standing next to him was Supreme Admiral Balan, a man known for his disdain of everything except himself. Balan was what some might have said a political genius as much a military braniac. He had over the past year brought the five factions of the Empire together, to recreate a truly united Empire. Some he had simply had their leaders assassinated, while others he had convinced to join him.
"Indeed sir," Grant nodded, "At long last we can retake what is rightfully ours."
"I still do not know if I like using clones again General," Balan snorted, "I'd rather have us use real people and not these fakes."
"They are from the Thrawn Era sir," Grant said, rolling his eyes at yet having to once again defend them, "They are the best we have. And besides, human stormtroopers are becoming more and more scarce. Even Army troopers are getting hard to come by. And besides, these so happen to have been cloned using Mandalorian Berserker DNA as well."
"Yes, yes," Balan waved his hand in a dismissive manner, "You have ever so eloquently defended your pets General."
"They are not my pets, sir," Grant replied softly.
"They are outside the normal order of things," Balan snapped, "Remember, even the Jedi during the Clone Wars hated them. I remember the look on Plo Koon's face when he was assigned the 77th Fighter Squadron."
Grant looked at him curiously. "You fought during the Clone Wars sir?" he asked, but Balan did not answer the question.
There was a couple hurried feet running up towards them and Grant turned around. They were naval officers that had followed Balan down to the planet. They looked haggard from the continual work at keeping everything running smoothly.
"Sir," one of them saluted, not towards Grant but towards the turned back of Balan.
"What is it Captain Fyyar?" Balan asked, not turning around to face his second-in-command.
"Moff Tyron wishes you to make contact immediately," he announced, sweat pouring down his face, "May I ask sir why you turned off your link?"
"No you may not Captain!" Balan sharply replied, "Now go back to the Umbara."
Captain Fyyar threw a glare at Balan before turning on his heel and hurrying off. Balan was a hated man, but he had achieved his status as Supreme Admiral through hard and dirty combat. Hated? Yes he was. Respected? Better believe it.
"I wonder what Moff Tyron wants you for?" Grant ventured to ask.
Balan spat a thick blue liquid onto the ground. "I hate politicians. Even one who heads all military operations."
Moff Tyron's blue hologram flickered as it stood there. Despite the very obvious technological advantages of the Galactic Empire over its wayward brothers, there still had yet to be a way to fully improve holographic technology. Moff Tyron struck Derk as a man not to be toyed with, despite his rumored leanings towards the peace elements of the Moff Council. But, Derk Grant was not the man in charge of the planned assault, Balan was. And as such, it was Balan who was needing to be addressed by the Moff, not Derk.
"How goes the progress Admiral Balan?" Tyron asked, quiet clearly not using his full title. Derk smiled at the obvious anguish it gave his counterpart.
"It goes well Moff," Balan said, his back as rigid as a board, "The attack should go forward as planned. I am just waiting upon Grand Admiral Pealleon to arrive with his task force of twelve Victory-Class Star Destroyers. Then, we should capture the planet without much delay."
"Postpone the attack Admiral," Tyron ordered.
Balan's eye narrowed, and a thunderbolt of surprise shot through Grant. What was that? Tyron had been the one to green-light the project before they launched the offensive. This offensive was meant to end the war, drive the vaunted New Republic to its knees and end the war. Why the sudden change in orders so close to D-Hour?
"May I ask why Moff Tyron?" Balan asked, trying not to grind his teeth.
"I have made contact with a very important member of the New Republic a couple weeks ago," Tyron replied, holding up his hands in a Not-My-Fault manner, "And we are starting peace talks between us and them."
"But surely you can't be serious," Balan shot back, his control slipping and his hands starting to shake to his side, "We are ready to strike at Alderaan, Caamas, Tepasi, Anaxes, Brentaal, to name just a few. The task forces are ready to attack."
"I've already given orders to those commanders to hold their positions until they get further orders," Tyron snapped, his features twisting from kindly to anger, "I also had to recall Pealleon back to another threatened sector that by a fools incompetance has been left wide open to attack."
"Everything is ready and are ready though!" Balan slammed a fist onto the holo projector, "This attack has bigger implications! Ones we've talked about at length. You cannot-"
"Cannot what?" Tyron snapped, "Who rules this Empire? You or the Moff Council?"
Balan sighed. He was cornered with that. He bowed his head and said, "Yes sir."
"Good," Tyron said, melting back to the kindly gentlemen, "Now, hold off the attack."
The holograph flickered and died. Balan's head shot up, a nasty smile across his face. He turned to Grant and nodded his head.
"The alliance between the various factions is wavering at best," Balan told Grant, punching in several numbers, "This attack has to be accelerated. If we do not launch the attacks, the alliance will crumble. One lost sector means nothing in the grand scheme. That's what his worshipfulness does not realize. We need an Emperor. Only an Emperor can lead this Empire and keep it together."
"And you plan to be that Emperor?" Grant snorted.
"There is few if any that could contend with me," Balan shrugged his shoulders, "Not even the Moff Council would deny me that when this is over."
"I know of a man who can," Grant said.
"And who is that?" Balan threw a scowling face at him.
"Adol Ha," Grant said.
"Adol Ha was a traitor to the Empire," Balan replied with a huff, "His helping to overthrow Triculus helped bring about the current crises. But I forgot, you were his pupil."
"I learned all I could from him," Grant said.
"Even if that is the case," Balan replied, "It was Ha who lost Coruscant for us. Not Triculus."
"I was there at that battle sir," Grant replied softly, "And I know what really happened. Triculus nearly destroyed one of our fleets that day."
"I am not saying Ha was not a competent leader," Balan said soothingly, "But, I also knew Ha from the days of the Academy. I knew him quiet well. Indeed, Ha had no rivals. Indeed, in truth, Ha had one real enemy. His lust for power."