Chapter 14

Tyr Jolen exited his ship, his red robes billowing about him, his Tolumbian scythe at the ready.

"Freeze!" commanded the unlucky officer manning the docking station.

"The Emperor orders you to take me to Moff Zakine," Jolen responded.

"I have received no such order," the officer replied. "Nor did you request or receive permission to land. I'll have to check."

Jolen swung out with his scythe, blue flames appearing on its blade as soon as he swung. He struck down the officer while simultaneously redirecting the blasts the rest of the docking crew managed to get off, killing or wounding them all.

"Permission will be unnecessary," Jolen said sarcastically as he stepped through the mess he'd left and continued toward the bridge.

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This, Admiral Samsa thought, was an emergency: A Redrobe stood before him insisting that he be brought to Moff Zakine. He seemed none too patient, either, as his hand played alarmingly on his scythe.

"He is in a secure meeting in his quarters," Samsa told the Redrobe. "I will alert him to your arrival."

"No need," replied the Redrobe, sweeping off the bridge just as the first reports of a massacre in the docking bay began to come in. Samsa realized, too late, that the Redrobe's apparently hostile approach and docking wasn't an accident. He WAS a hostile. But he was a hostile sent by the Emperor who had just congratulated Samsa for doing what Moff Zakine did not in utilizing the khyberlasers to destroy the Alliance dreadnought.

Samsa didn't quite know where his loyalties should lie at the moment. He considered remaining silent and allowing things to play out a bit more. But a Redrobe here on the Punisher…that seemed inappropriate. Even the Emperor, a former Redrobe, must know how the military disliked the Royal Guard, who worked and trained outside the military's purview. The very word "Redrobe" was originally demeaning military slang for the Royal Guard and their flashy attire. He didn't like having one of them on his ship. Not at all.

"Moff Zakine—" he commed.

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Samsa's voice broke through the silence in Zakine's quarters. The visitors had just finished telling Zakine their story, and Pault had made his pitch that he, Gital, and Zakine act as a triumvirate to overthrow the Emperor and bring the reign of mystics to an end. Zakine found that a tempting proposal. He hadn't, however, shared with the visitors the information he'd received regarding Order Three.

"Moff Zakine, we have a Redrobe aboard "

"Does this relate to your use of the khyberlaser, Admiral?" Zakine had heard them as he headed toward his cabin.

"That was an order of the Emperor – I shall explain, but I believe the Redrobe is hostile. Men in the docking station have been killed, and he is heading toward your quarters." Samsa thought it better to overlook the part he'd played in sending the Redrobe toward Zakine's quarters.

"Are you convinced now, Moff Zakine?" Pault asked. "The Emperor has sent his own guardsman here, likely to kill you."

"Yes, I believe he has," Zakine replied. "Samsa, send troops to intercept and kill the Redrobe. I am on my way."

Zakine hurried the men out of his quarters. They would return to the bridge via the ship's repair catwalks. It would take slightly longer, but it would guarantee there would be no run-ins with the Redrobe. Zakine entered his code for the repair hatch and engaged the catwalk to move at its fastest speed. The men stepped in, the catwalk carrying them through the Punisher's innards. They could see groups of military mechanics floating in the superstructure, which rose almost five kilometers high. The newly-installed khyberlaser glowed in the distance, powering down from its display. Zakine had always admired the vast emptiness of the ship's skeleton. Today was no different.

"You should know," he told the men behind him, "that the Emperor has ordered this fleet to carry out Order Three upon the giving of his word."

Pault had assumed as much. Gital, however, appeared thunderstruck.

"Order three," Pault repeated. "What do you intend to do with that order?"

Zakine shrugged. "I intended to consider it. And now I wonder if we should consider implementing it sooner rather than later."

"Sooner?" Gital exploded. "You can't implement it at all!"

"I disagree," Pault replied. "The Emperor has ordered a battle on Coruscant of such violence that will assure it is of no utility in the future. Then he will implement Order Three to terminate the remaining sentients. By that time, all useful infrastructure will have been damaged beyond repair."

"—so instead we implement early, and perhaps - if we destroy him while he remains on-planet and before he can destroy the Imperial infrastructure – the planet will remain useful and we have allowed our Empire to continue in its capital," Zakine concluded.

"I agree," said Pault.

"You cannot be serious, Nev," Gital pleaded. "The people of Coruscant do not deserve this fate."

"No, they don't," Zakine agreed. "But it is the only way."

"To kill one man, you will kill billions—"

"To end the reign of the mystics, destroy the Rebellion, and begin a reign based solely on power and reason, we will unfortunately sacrifice billions," Pault corrected.

Zakine forced open the bridge escape hatch and climbed through. He offered an arm to Pault, who struggled onto the bridge after him. Then he offered his hand to Gital, who remained on the catwalk below, staring up at Zakine.

Gital remembered the dark of the beyond and felt that, this time, the choice to walk towards it or away from it was within his control.

"I cannot," he said. "I cannot participate in this wanton slaughter."

"Then your utility is at an end," Zakine replied and slammed the escape hatch closed. He turned to Pault. "We are in agreement. Our plan will save the Empire, and I expect you to follow through on your offer of shared leadership. Should you hesitate, you would be wise to remember the extent of the military might under my control, and the fact that you are seeing only half of it today."

"I will not renege," Pault bowed.

"Then get to your shuttle. We will rendezvous with the rest of the Outer Rim Fleet at Tromma after the battle is complete and you have secured the treasury. Go."

Pault quickly left the bridge as Zakine turned to his men, barking a new set of orders.

"NO ONE gets on or off this bridge unless I command it. I want a platoon of troops stationed at the lift and each emergency exit panel. Send another four detachments out to patrol the ship."

He turned to Admiral Samsa, whom he wasn't sure he trusted anymore. But it didn't quite matter, either.

"Samsa, open the comm to the fleet."

"Yes, sir," Samsa pressed several buttons on his control panel. "Done, sir."

"Loyal commanders of the destroyers and Executors of the Outer Rim Fleet, this is Moff Zakine. We have received orders from our Emperor. Banisher, Vengeance, and Judgment, you are to take up the coordinates I am currently transmitting, which will put you at magnetic ninety from each checkpoint." He punched several datacodes into the computer and transmitted. "Destroyers, deploy to the coordinates I send now."

He paused to assure he had the attention of every man in the fleet.

"As commanded by Emperor Essag, we shall implement Order Three."

Zakine had never heard his bridge so silent. He was sure every other bridge in the fleet was quite as silent. He enjoyed that respectful response to his command.

Beneath his feet, among the mechanical catwalks of the Punisher, Klim Gital, hearing the order, wondered what he could possibly do. Then he began to run as fast as his legs would carry him.

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