WILLIAM SHEPLIN

"We forced the Empire off our world once. They fought with blasters and fighters, destroying cities at will. We fought with whatever we had—kitchen utensils, industrial tools . . . our bare hands."

—Fleet Admiral Gial Ackbar, NRN, Retired

Dac, Outer Rim, 0 ABY

Imprimis Base was large than any non-Imperial ground complex Sheplin had ever seen. Dorn Base, the former Sith Empire fortress that the Alliance had resurrected on the frozen world of Hoth, paled in comparison to the size of the Dac-built base.

It sprawled out in every direction for more than five kilometers, and Sheplin's detail-oriented mind automatically worked to estimate how many lived and served within the enormous complex. There wasn't enough information for an accurate answer, but Sheplin supposed that there could be over fifty-thousand, if the Dac had them packed in tight enough.

Most of the residents of Imprimis Base were Dacs—Mon Calamari, Quarren, and Humans, since all three species considered themselves 'Dacs,' Sheplin had discovered—but nearly five-thousand of the residents were Alliance personnel. Most of them were contractors, working with the local Dac shipwrights, but quite a few were Navy pilots, and there were a smattering of Marines to act as guards as well.

Sheplin got his first view of the base when the pilot—Bugs had been her callsign, if he recalled correctly—had taken the shuttle he'd been riding in for a landing on one of Imprimis Base's many landing pads. Now, he got to see it from the air again, as an airspeeder took him to the capital.

The pilot of the speeder wasn't Bugs, which was probably just a well. Her reaction to his scars and uniform was hardly unique to her, but it had never gotten any easier to be looked at as if he were a monster from a cheap horror holovid. His current pilot was a Mon Calamari midshipman, and he hadn't even seemed to notice the scars on Sheplin's face.

The capital was a beautiful feat of engineering. The thin pylons that supported the base of the capital seemed far too thin to handle the crushing weight of an entire city, and Sheplin guessed that it was mostly repulsorlifts and other forms of anti-gravity that kept the city from plunging into the depths of the ocean.

The city was a recent accomplishment, having been built only after the local populations had united to drive the Empire from their world. Prior to the Empire, the world had been divided, with the Quarren residing in the oceans, while the Mon Calamari—though amphibians—kept to the surface, and the Humans resided on the wispy islands that dotted the planet.

For nearly five thousand years, the Quarrens and Mon Calamari had been at each others' throats, while the Humans allied themselves with one party or the other. It had taken a full-scale Imperial invasion to force them to put aside their differences. That they had managed to drive the Empire from the surface of their world, and remain independent under the new Royal Triumvirate for so many years showed just how truly formidable these people were.

"We'll be coming in for a landing in a few minutes, sir," the Mon Calamari midshipman said.

"Very well," Sheplin answered.

The Dac Royal Cabinet watched Sheplin enter the cabinet room with guarded expressions. They were—aside from the three monarchs they advised—the most powerful beings on the planet.

"Commander William Sheplin," the sergeant-at-arms, a Royal Guardsman, announced, holding the door open for him.

None of the members of the cabinet stood, and, instead, Aliana Magiware, the prime minister, gestured to a vacant seat at the end of the table they sat at. Her expression was hard to read, being a Quarren, but Sheplin could gather that she hadn't been in favor of this audience from the way her eyes studied him coolly.

"Gentles," Sheplin said in greeting. His wounds were throbbing from the walk to the cabinet room, but he masked the pain from his expression. He folded his hands together behind his back.

Aliana continued boring holes in him with her eyes. "We have agreed to this meeting as a courtesy to the Alliance to Restore the Republic. Nothing more," she said curtly.

Sheplin nodded. That the Dac weren't particularly happy with the Alliance's recent activities was common knowledge. Well, Sheplin thought, they'll probably be more than a little cetted off about this too.

He forced himself to smile through the throbbing pain. "Small courtesies make the galaxy go around," he said.

"What does Thrawn want?" Aliana demanded. She had been the only one to speak thus far, and the rest of the cabinet seemed inclined to let their prime minister do most of the verbal sparring with the scarred pseudo-ambassador Thrawn had sent.

Sheplin had read all he could about Prime Minister Aliana Magiware, and was almost certain the woman appreciated plain-spoken honesty more than almost anything. "It's what we want to do for you, Prime Minister," he said finally, choosing his words with care. He smiled again, though this time it was far thinner.

"Go on."

"We have reliable sources—" a lie, of course, but he rather doubted Aliana would believe him if he didn't say he had sources, and instead only 'sound suspicions' "—that indicate the Empire is on it's way to the Outer Rim even as we speak."

There was utter silence. Several of the cabinet members glanced at each other, worriedly. "You have proof, you said?" Aliana demanded.

"I do," Sheplin said. "Though I have been instructed to not show military intelligence to civilians—we are still restructuring our intelligence organizations, and have found that quite a lot of information is . . . leaked, Prime Minister. I'm afraid you must take me on faith."

Aliana ground her teeth. "Faith is earned, Commander, and your Admiral Thrawn has not earned it with us."

Sheplin shrugged. "Fair enough, Prime Minister. However, we don't truly need your help."

Aliana snorted. "Is that a fact?" she asked, mimicking Sheplin's soft Core Worlds drawl with her alien vocal cords. "Well, you do need our help, Commander. Your Thrawn isn't worth skrag without men and materiel to back him up. In case you hadn't noticed; we provide most of your men and materiel."

Sheplin smiled and laughed slightly. His response made Aliana's black blood color her face in anger. "I'm afraid you misunderstood me, Prime Minister," he said. "We don't need your help with the battle—the war is an entirely different matter."

"Battle?"

"Yes, the one that's coming . . ." Sheplin looked thoughtful, "within a week." He smiled yet again. "Here, to be exact. Though . . . the invasion force may take a quick detour through the shipyards, just for the hell of it; after all, if you have a thousand star destroyers, you can afford to be a little more widespread with your chaos."

The cabinet's combined expressions blanched at the number of star destroyers he'd so casually mentioned. "I'd not recommend you keep the Royal Guard's vessel's in orbit to meet them," Sheplin said. "They would be slightly outnumbered, I believe. If you do insist on foolishness, I would strongly recommend transferring overall command of them to the Alliance."

"Madam Minister . . ." one of the cabinet members said tentatively. Aliana turned her gaze to the speaker, who swallowed before continuing. "I understand the citizenry's distrust of the Alliance . . . especially since Thrawn came in." He cast a glance at Sheplin. "But what if he's telling us the truth? We're facing the largest invasion in the history of Dac—hell, it'll make the first one look like—" He sputtered, failing to find the proper example. "Surely, we should at least call out the Guard!"

Aliana snorted. "But didn't you hear the Commander?" she asked mockingly. "He 'doesn't need our help.' "

"No," Commander Sheplin said. "We don't need your help; though we would not turn away the help or the friendship of the Dac." He spread his hands out. "That's one of the reasons I am here; to help the Dac."

"Friendship is earned, Commander," Aliana said.

"Yet you were—until recently—friends to the Alliance," Sheplin said. He smiled again. "You even 'donated' a sizable portion of the ships currently serving in the Navy. I would like to know what changed."

Aliana snorted. " 'What changed?' " she asked. "What changed is everything. The Alliance had been dedicated to restoring the Republic."

"It still is."

"And yet your Admiral has dissolved the one body that was most dedicated to the ideals of the Republic; your Command Council." Aliana's tone was barely civil. "I should not need to tell you that, by doing so, he has also dissolved whatever trust the Dac people had in the Alliance."

"Not all Dac, I would say."

Aliana looked pained for an instant, before she forced her features to return to normal. "Yes, not all," she admitted. "I can only assume you are referring to Ackbar. His actions are . . . troubling, to this cabinet."

"No doubt," Sheplin agreed wryly, not failing to notice her momentary expression of pain. "There will be a New Republic, madam," he said firmly.

"An empty promise, Commander," Aliana said. "We have nothing but your word."

"You had nothing more than the word of the Council, before." A reply from her was not quick in coming, and the two took a moment to survey the other. Sheplin's smile grew slightly more sincere. "There's a committee being set up," he said. "To write a constitution."

Aliana's gaze was skeptical. "For the Alliance?" she asked.

"For the New Republic."

A few members of the cabinet exchanged glances. Aliana shook her head slowly. "It will be years before there's a New Republic, and you are not going to buy our friendship so easily."

Sheplin raised his eyebrows. "If by 'buying our friendship' you mean saving your people from slavery and genocide, then you're wrong. Your people have long memories: They still remember the time the Republic came to save them in the Clone Wars, and they will remember this for just as long."

Sheplin stood up. "I will be at Imprimis Base, if you decide you want to help us help you." He looked at the sole other member of the cabinet who had spoken for a moment. "Take this to the Triumvirate," he said. "Hear their wisdom."

With one last, slight smile, he turned from them, and walked away.

Colonel Sanderson was sitting in his office, when Sheplin entered the room. Sheplin saluted, as Sanderson's Army rank made him the equivalent of a Navy captain. "Sir," Sheplin said. "I apologize for not reporting directly, earlier. My orders took me elsewhere."

Sanderson waved away the apology. "Don't apologize. I got a communiqué from General Trantor ordering me to cooperate with you, and," he grinned momentarily, surprising Sheplin, "even take orders from you; in the orbital and air portions of the battle, at least."

"Oh," Sheplin said. "I'm . . . glad you're not . . . cetted off, sir."

Sanderson laughed. He looked like he was in his fifties, but he was probably younger. He had big, bushy eyebrows, and a broad, plain-looking face. "I'll be cetted off later, Commander. Right now I'm skragging my pants."

Sheplin smiled a little, laughing silently along with Sanderson. "That makes two of us, sir."

"The Royal Cabinet seems to thing that you're ready to take the Empire on with a water pistol . . . with one hand strapped behind your back for good measure," Sanderson commented. When Sheplin raised an eyebrow, the Army colonel waved his hand. "I have my sources. I hope you were just bluffing."

"I was."

"I'm not actually sure if that makes me feel better or worse."

Sheplin nodded. "This communiqué must have mentioned the Admiral's plan . . . in broad strokes at least, sir," Sheplin guessed, having noted that Sanderson had mentioned the coming battle.

"Why do you think I'm skragging myself?"