Chapter 10: Aftermath
The main hangar of Heseriarch was cavernously vast. Lacking fighters the empty space went on and on. Assembled soldiers were insufficient to fill it up, and the cluster of captains crammed in front of a hastily erected podium was a wan and meager display.
Priam stood in front of them all, flanked by a guard detachment of stormtroopers. Her key supporters sat behind her. Several chairs were empty, filled only by memorial holos.
Too many, by the admiral's reckoning, far too many.
The Battle of Pellut, as the name would inevitably be, would award no medals. Priam would not give out honors for killing imperials tricked by the lies of a traitorous conniver. She would limit promotions as well, though some were inevitable to fill the gaps opened in the fleet by casualties.
The council began with those elevations, read off one by one by a staff officer. Most of those so elevated took their new posts with proper gravity for the shift. Few expressed discontent.
Admiral Kraven was among the latter group, glaring long at Priam when it was announced that he was being removed from line service and placed in charge of administration as the foundation of a new High Command. It was a dangerous move, and Priam had only made it in the knowledge that for the present Kraven would be far too busy to plot against anyone.
The promotion of Gredge to full admiral and command of Logistics, Resupply, and Training was the final statement before Priam was given to announce her new fleet deployment. The admiral, still wearing a large bandage around her head, took the lectern. She looked out on the assembled brass, and wondered what they would think when she told them her choices.
There was one small matter to be addressed first. "Colonel Garvus," The admiral called the thin old man to the podium.
Garvus walked up proudly, chest out, exulting that his ship had been chosen for this meeting, and was Priam's new flagship. As he was the last to be mentioned, he doubtless expected a reward for his actions in the battle.
The old man's sharp eyes met Priam's when he reached the lectern.
Quick-witted, the colonel did not like what he saw, and took a half step back.
"Lieutenant," Priam called to the head of the stormtrooper guard. "This man is a traitor who is guilty of gross misuse of imperial materiel for personal gain and gross dereliction of duty. He is to be executed immediately."
Garvus blanched. "You can't do this; I'm the only one who knows the codes to these ships, without me you'll never-"
"The Emperor also knew the codes," Priam glared. "And they were preserved aboard the Eclipse II. Lieutenant..."
Eight E-11's were leveled.
"Ready..."
Garvus lunged towards Priam.
"Aim..." gnarled hands wrapped around her shoulders, reaching for the throat. The admiral never moved.
"Fire!"
Eight bolts struck the traitor in the chest. His body slid down to the plasteel bleachers.
Priam stepped over it and back to the lectern. "With that concluded, there remains only one matter of discipline left." she noted, looking out into many faces that had supported Ars Dangor. "At this time, I call upon all command-rank officers who supported the traitor Dangor to surrender into custody. You will not be punished for your participation in this mutiny," she told them, noting the calm that spread through the nearly panicked group after the stormtroopers' action. "But your commissions are forfeit. You will be allowed to take all personal effects with you into immediate retirement on Relus."
"But we'll be marooned!" one man, less sensible than the rest, heckled.
"Consider the isolation a blessing," Priam sneered, annoyed that political considerations made sparing these men necessary in the first place. "That way, no one in the rest of the Empire will be there to judge you."
Silence followed this remark. No one else sought to provoke their immediate end. This surprised precisely no one. Tallance had not been the only mutineer to choose oblivion. The strong willed were not the ones slinking back.
"As for everyone else," Priam turned back to her loyalists. "As soon as salvage operations are completed and the fleet is fully loaded with recruits, troops, and passengers, we will be departing the Beshqek system permanently. All Empire-owned civilian vessels, and all volunteers, will also be accompanying us. Other ships will be devoted to refugee transport to Prakith, the nearest stable system."
"Most of you are expecting us to travel east through the Deep Core and attack Kuat," Priam's voice rose, knowing she must seize this moment. "But that will not be our destination."
A hushed murmur spread through the assembly.
"Our fleet is now too damaged and weakened by battle to wage that campaign. Rapid assault and movement is no longer possible, and we are a year of repairs away from full strength. By that time the war will be over, the rebellion's industrial build up will eliminate any chance of a military victory."
"The Holonet reports that a former Imperial Royal Guard named Carnor Jax1 has claimed to be the Emperor's Heir and is assuming control of the Fleet in the New Territories, but we now know that he is just as much a traitor as Ars Dangor.2 I will not place this fleet, won for the Empire at such great cost, in the hands of a false master to wage an un-winnable war."
"My fellow admirals, captains, and commanders," Priam's gaze swept over the group. "We must face the truth. The Emperor designed for all he built to crumble to ruin in his absence. Though I believe, as you do, in the ideals and greatness of the New Order, of the superiority of a united military government over a chaotic and squabbling republic, we cannot, in our present state, sustain those ideals."
"To do so, to preserve the New Order in a form that can survive without the guidance of the Emperor's unique insights, we must make a complete and total break with the past. We must build the Empire without the burdens of the Old Republic, without a rebel movement struggling to rebirth a false past, and without the painful holdovers of past wars. To do this there is only one option: we must begin again the work of building an Empire in virgin territory."
The murmurs rose, and true shouts of confusion and anger joined them.
Priam bulldozed ahead, knowing she could not stop now. "From the records of the Eclipse II we have possession of a route to the west, past the Celestial Wall and into the Unknown Regions. There, in the Trendath System, is a monitoring station on a habitable planet that will serve as the base of our new Imperial state."
"Colonize the Unknown Regions? Madness!" Someone shouted the words Priam had fully expected.
"It is the only choice!" she retorted. "Anywhere we travel in known space the rebellion will follow, and we will be left to fight a rearguard action while the state crumbles beneath us. The Emperor promised us ten thousand years, but his Empire will not see even one hundred unless we act to move beyond the reach of our enemies. We will retrench into new territory and stabilize the state, building a new, uniform practice of Imperial rule unburdened by the favoritism of the Core. We will have centuries to grow before the rebels can challenge us, time enough to become invincible."
"This is my command, and this is the path I have chosen," Priam thundered. "The choice is clear, to follow the dream of Empire, or the false traitors who would claim its territory. I choose the dream!"
They did not cheer, they did not object, only stood in stony silence.
It was enough.
"A full deployment plan with details for each vessel will be transmitted to all ships. We will begin the transfer to Trendath as soon as the first lines are fully prepped. The entire operation will take less than two weeks, at which point the Beshqek system will no longer be safely accessible. That is all, report to your commands."
Priam turned, stepping over the still cooling body of Colonel Garvus, and walked off the stage. The stormtroopers followed her out.
Priam's private chambers on the Heseriarch were vast in scope, but Spartan in furnishing. Given a command suite that had been planned to potentially accommodate the Emperor himself at need; she had multiple rooms, vast technology, and considerable luxury at her disposal. In the unfinished state of the ship, that also meant barren floors, an incomplete bed frame, and a mouse droid working to finish the 'fresher.
It was hardly a space suited for entertaining guests, but the rest of the dreadnaught was in similar straights, and the admiral's room had the modest advantage of privacy. That some designer had chosen to stock the liquor cabinet prior to completing the bar also helped. Priam had no idea if the Emperor had been a connoisseur of fine alcohols, but someone, possibly Garvus, had planned as if he was.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't these particular vineyards destroyed during the New Sith Wars and the soil was never restored to par?" Priam's guest muttered incredulously, staring at the bottle on the table between them.
"That's what the database says, yes," the admiral smiled softly.
"So this is what, twelve hundred years old? And costs how much?"
"About twice the five million I paid you for that job," Priam shrugged. "Not that we'll find a buyer where we're headed."
The blue-haired woman tossed the glass back, draining wine in a single long pull. "Stang!" she expelled as she slammed the crystal down to the table. "It's good to be the Emperor!"
"I hope," Priam looked at her visitor cautiously. "That you aren't referring to me. There was only one Emperor, ever."
"Then you'd better come up with a better title, fast," Xasha shook her head, purple throat spots flashing in the pale fluorescent light. "You're off to found a new Empire; you can't keep going by admiral."
"Something to consider," the admiral admitted. Labels had meaning and power; she knew politics at least that well. She had a few ideas along those lines.
The imperial looked into the half-Theelin's3 eyes, wondering. "Tell me X, and be honest. Did I make the right choice?"
"Hell if I know," Xasha shrugged, leaning back as she refilled her glass. Thick reddish liquid poured over the transparent gloss. "You want an Empire to last for a thousand years, then yeah, heading out into the unknown's probably a better bet than slugging it out with admiral fish-head, but I wouldn't put money on either one."
"I really would have attacked Kuat," it seemed important that someone, anyone, believe that. Priam continued, her words earnest, her eyes searching for recognition in bounty hunter eyes. "If Dangor hadn't survived, if I'd had the whole fleet from the start…"
"Hey, I believe you," Xasha shrugged again, openly relaxed and uncaring. "But fighting each other seems to be what imperials are best at."
That truth seared hot and furious. "That's going to stop," Priam vowed. "I will build an Empire that is a force for unity, for order. We will tame the wilds of space, and bring peace to the people. That was what was promised, and I intend to keep that promise."
"Well, as the rebels say, may the Force be with you, 'cause you're going to need it," Xasha smiled lazily. She sipped her wine in contentment. The fate of the galaxy was clearly a concern far from her mind.
"I have a fleet, I will trust in that," in Priam's view, the Force had cursed the Empire from the start. They'd do better without it.
"Takes more than warships to build an Empire."
"That's true," the admiral knew. She was already working hard on administration, logistics, and a governing plan that would form her fleet as the core. "The fleet serves one role, one scale, other agents will be needed for more…precise…tasks."
"Hey, why are you looking at me like that?" Xasha sat bolt upright, limbs quivering.
"I can't let you go X," Priam spoke quietly, and with real sadness. It hurt to trap this woman who had done so much for her. "You know too much. You'd sell our destination to the rebellion in a heartbeat."
The bounty hunter didn't deny it. "Are you going to lock me away?" The admiral was glad she made no move to attempt something foolish. Xasha had always been very level-headed for one of her kind. It made her all the more valuable.
"If I must," Priam noted with regret. "But I would hate to lose your talents. Once we leave the Deep Core behind there will be no HoloNet, no hyperspace maps, and no way for you to spill your secrets. You can work for us X, I need your skills. You'd be doing the galaxy a service, and I assure you the pay will be good."
"And how will I spend it? Ha!" Xasha countered. "You've just stolen five million from me, stashed away on Muunilist where I can never use it. How much more will you take?"
"I've every confidence you will find a fine place to retire out in the Unknown Regions, when the time is right," Priam offered a small smile. "As for that five million, you're free to do whatever you want with it, until the links are lost."
"Great, just great," the bounty hunter downed her glass and poured another. "I knew I shouldn't have taken that job."
"You fate would have been much the same," Priam smiled wickedly. "I'm not letting any armed shuttles go. This way you have an extra five million credits and a friend in the highest of places."
"And some grade double-a quality booze," the woman smiled recklessly. "Okay Priam, you've got me good, you manipulative Imperial witch. So what's the plan?"
Priam pulled a small disk of metal from her pants pocket and placed it down on the table. "This new Empire will need to remake certain organizations we are leaving behind. The skills of a bounty hunter are well suited to one in particular. I would like you to be the first of the Protectorate Rangers."
Xasha picked up the badge, flipping it over in her hand. "Nice symbol," she said.
It was as close to acceptance as Priam would ever get.
Slave I drifted through the outer rim, carrying its master along on a mission for his current employer, Gorga the Hutt. Though the highly automated ship required little attention in such an intermediate moment as this, Boba Fett sat at the controls as always, vigilant to the last.
To his surprise, the ship's message buffer beeped after receiving a routine news update. Someone had sent a packet to an old personal address of his, one he'd all but closed down years ago after it had been compromised. No one should know he still had a quiescent program monitoring the relay.
The message was text only. Before opening it Fett checked the log from the Holonet, scrounging around with a few highly illegal tools to determine the message's origin. He discovered only that it had routed through so many relays any trace was impossible.
Curious now, he opened the message in a partitioned datapad. The plain text pulled his eye in immediately.
Boba, you're a hard man to track down, but I know you still check all those old dead addresses of yours, just in case. I always held out for the chance to say this in person, but that'll never happen now, so here it is: I'm sorry. I know I betrayed your trust in the worst way, but I want you to know I wouldn't have done it if there'd been any other choice. I wish things didn't turn out the way they did. I loved you then, I really did, and I always hoped you knew that. If you didn't, you're hearing it now.
I know no apology is enough, and that you'll probably never forgive me, but I hope you can find the way to, someday. If you don't, I'll never forgive myself.
We'll never meet again. By the time you get this I'll be beyond even your reach for good. Circumstances have forced me to leave something behind, and I wanted you to have it. It won't repay the damage I've done, nothing could, but it's the best I can do to pay off my regrets before I go.
Yours,
-X
Fett stared at the message, and read through it again, before stumbling over the postscript. It was a simple formulation, an account number and password. He recognized the setup as that of Muunilist instantly. With swift strokes of the keys he directed Slave I to access the account. He put in the password manually and brought up the contents.
A five followed by six zeroes stared back at him.
Boba Fett looked at the number carefully, wondering where the money had come from. He read the letter a third time, and all the memories of those days twelve years ago flooded back. A different time, simpler, younger, it seemed a lifetime ago.
"You're right X," Fett muttered into the message. "I'll probably never forgive you, but I suppose five million's not a bad down payment."4
Looking out the viewport at the stars, the galaxy's best bounty hunter couldn't help but wonder – what had Xasha done to earn it?
Chapter Notes
It is not clear how quickly Carnor Jax asserted control over the ruling council, but since he was planning to do so before the Emperor perished, it was probably quite rapid.
Palpatine's physician, who was complicit in the conspiracy to sabotage the Emperor's clones, was onboard the Eclipse II. The statement assumes he left evidence behind.
Canon does not precisely establish Xasha's species, but as far as I'm concerned she's half-Theelin.
SPOILER WARNING: Xasha apologizing to Boba Fett references a plot point in the Force Unleashed II comic. Essentially she was initially hired in a honey trap to secure his genetic material so the Empire could make clones of him.