The Second Fleet's flight from Yaga Minor had been so fast and so chaotic that, once Veers and Grave were gone, there were still hundreds of thousands of Imperial soldiers within the shipyards with no clear loyalties, most of them totally confused as to the events of the past few days. Adding to that uncertainty were the millions more Yagai insurrectionists who'd thrown their lot in with the forces of Davek Fel (it was too hard to think of him as admiral or emperor). Somehow, all those beings would have to be accounted for, evaluated, and placed into order to get the might Yaga Minor 'Yards running on war footing.
It was to Lukas Briggs' consternation that- as deputy chief quartermaster at Bilbringi- he knew more than a few things about organization and operations in a shipyard. That he'd already proven where his loyalties lay made things worse. That Davek Fel had invited him aboard the briefing room on the Thrawn for a one-on-one conversation was the clincher. An offer delivered like that was impossible to say no to.
His wife clearly didn't see it that way, but for the sake of the children, Marian kept her composure.
"They're giving all of Yaga Minor to you?" she said after Lukas explained the situation. She, Leena, and Polaw were crowded tight to fit into the hologram's transmission field.
"They need someone to put the pieces back together and run the place," Lukas said. "The Empire needs someone. Now more than ever."
Marian took a deep breath, in and out. "There's a lot of rumors flying around, Lukas. It's hard to tell what's going on."
"Dad, did you really fight for the aliens?" asked Leena.
"You mean the Yagai? Well… I guess so. Fel wants the natives to have chief administrative control over the shipyards…. Which might take some weight off my back, actually."
"You talked to him about this?" Marian asked.
"Personally," Lukas nodded.
She thought about that. He noticed her pull the kids in even closer. "This Fel… How do you feel about him?"
She didn't call him 'emperor.' Hardly anybody did right now, Lukas included. 'Fel' was the only thing close to comfortable.
"He pulled us Voidwalkers through a hard situation once. And from what I've seen of how Veers does thing I don't like it."
"Dad," asked Polaw, "Is it safe where you are?"
It was difficult to explain things you hardly understood yourself. For his kids' sake he had to fake it. "We'll be fine here, but right now you need to stay at Bilbringi."
"When are we going to be together then?"
He caught Marian raise an eyebrow. Lukas told them, "I don't know. Once I get things organized here, I'll try to make space for you three. Until then I'll try to comm as much as I can. Keep doings things at Bilbringi like you normally would, understand?"
The kids nodded but Marian's face was full of doubt. There was no such thing as normal anymore and nobody had any idea what the new abnormal was going to look like. All sorts of contradictory reports had been coming in over the past few days about Veers' disposition and location but nothing was verified. Nothing was certain. Nothing was safe.
But for his kids, he faked the brave smile. They, at least, seemed consoled by it. When the connection ended Lukas slumped in the chair behind his newly-appointed desk, exhausted just from a short conversation.
He didn't get much of a breather. After just a few minutes his personal comm station started beeping. Some fresh crisis to be addressed, he was sure. He tapped it on and heard the view of his newly-appointed Yaga aide buzz, "Sir, are you getting the broadcast?"
Lukas sat stiff in his chair. "What broadcast?"
"It's coming across the HoloNet on all frequencies. We're trying to block it but the encryption pattern keeps changing and-"
"Patch it into my office."
"Yes, sir."
The aide's voice clicked off, and mere seconds later the holo-projector sprung to life. Lukas saw what he'd expected and dreaded to see: Corrien Veers, standing atop a podium with a line of stormtroopers behind his back. More stunningly, instead of putting a big Imperial crest on the wall behind him he'd raised a massive head-shot of Palpatine himself. The long-dead Emperor stared at the Empire-wide audience as Veers went on with his speech.
"We will not surrender, and we will not go quietly." He pounded the podium with a fist. "We will fight today. We will fight tomorrow. We will never stop fighting until we have restored the Empire to its true state and remove the pretend-emperor who seeks to tear down the legacy of our great founder.
"I know I am not alone. Even now, brave Moff Thane of Entralla and the worlds of the Velcar Sector have pledged their resources to fighting the usurper and his Jedi masters. Ships from the First and Third fleet flock to us. Even now I speak to you from the deck of the greatest warship in the galaxy.
"This ship, christened with the blood of patriots murdered by vicious alien traitors, was called Invincible. It has been christened once again with the lives of hundreds of thousands of good soldiers fighting against Jedi cultists, deceitful aliens, and their puppet emperor. I now grant it the name Nemesis, and I promise that it will be that to all who've tried to destroy our founder's legacy."
Veers thumped a first against his chest and shouted, "We will fight today! We will fight tomorrow! We will never stop until the Empire has been restored to what it was! I, Corrien Veers, promise this on my life's blood!"
An unseen audience broke into applause but Veers gave it no notice. Fist still pressed over his heart he lifted his head and stared forward with utmost dignity.
Then, finally, the transmission winked out.
-{}-
There were no new revelations from Veers' broadcasts. What little specifics he'd given had, more or less, jarred with the scattered intel reports Davek's people had been gathering since Yaga Minor, though as expected Veers had twisted some facts to his purpose. While the Third Fleet's Admiral Mearv had, after much delay, pledged his allegiance to Bastion and Emperor Fel, a number of his captains had abandoned their posts and run to the Velcar sector, where Moff Thane was giving Veers and Grave shelter. The sheer number of defections made Mearv's intentions and authority suspect; likewise, while all of the other members of the Moff Council had pledged allegiance to Davek it was also guaranteed some of them were in communication with Thane and Veers. Rooting out the disloyal from the loyal was going to be a long, arduous process.
Yet it was what Davek had set himself upon.
He was forced to consider the ugly realities of that process as he sat in the executive conference room aboard the Thrawn. It felt like he'd been holding meetings there, large and small, since the Battle of Yaga Minor's sudden conclusion. At the risk of leaving Bastion undefended he'd moved himself and the First's flagship there, while leaving Devlin Jaeger and the Makati, damaged as it had been during the fight, to guard Yaga Minor.
There were only two other people in the oversized conference room with him as he reviewed the list of capital ship commanders who'd surrendered or been captured alive during the fight at Yaga Minor. Marasiah had already reviewed the list; so had Captain Korak. Without either of them having had to say it, Davek knew that one name had drawn both their attention. It drew his also.
"It's a complicated situation, sir." Korak was saying. He slumped in his chair and hugged his arms across his torso. "You might want to form a tribunal to make case-by-case judgments."
He'd already decided against that. "We send to make a clear decision about what happens with soldiers who side with Veers and Grave. We need to send a message so everyone who does align with them knows what he or she is getting into. The punishment they're risking."
"What do you plan to do with the enlisted men and low-ranking officers?" asked Marasiah. She, too, was hesitant to get to the hard choices.
"Most of them didn't even know what was going on at Bastion and Yaga Minor. We need to show we can be merciful. I'll offer amnesty to those willing to accept it."
"Might get some traitors trying to slip back into the ranks and cause damage," remarked Korak.
"I know. That's why we'll have to screen people carefully, and monitor them once they've been assimilated back into our armed forces."
"That will take a lot of manpower," said Marasiah.
"We'll do what we have to," Davek grunted. "We'll be sending a message there too. That we're benevolent and forgiving. But only to a point."
"The captains, then," said Korak.
Davek looked down at the list of captains. As most of the ships they'd faced at Yaga Minor had been Second Fleet, very few of the names were familiar to him. It made that of his former first officer stand out all the more.
"Some of the captains there surrendered as soon as the Chiss showed up," said Korak. "Is there any chance of amnesty for them?"
Davek shook his head firmly. "They ordered their people to fire on the rightful leader of the Empire. No. Captains and senior officers have to be punished."
"How?"
Davek drummed his fingers on the tabletop, anxious. "Most of them should be placed in prison. No trial, no tribunal. They committed treason and will be treated like traitors."
"All of them?"
There was no getting around it now. He looked down at the name. "Some exceptional cases require more severe consequences. Vice Admiral Renwar wasn't just following orders from her superior. She fired on her commanding officer."
"Then what will you do?" asked Korak.
Davek's eyes darted to Marasiah; her lips were a tight-pressed pale line. If he had the damned Force he might be able to get something from her, but right now she wasn't offering a thing.
"Military law is quite clear on the matter," he told Korak. "The punishment is execution."
Korak sucked in breath but considered his words before saying, "That will send a message, won't it?"
"Yes. It will." It said that no one fired on the emperor without paying the highest penalty, even if she'd once been his trusted officer. With the Empire on the verge of breaking apart there could be no room for sentiment or softness. No room for excess mercy going ahead.
"What about other captains we capture going ahead?" asked Korak. "What will happen to them?"
"They know who their rightful emperor is. They won't be able to use the just-following-orders excuse."
"They'll fight harder if it's victory-or-death."
"If they're smart they won't fight at all and leave Veers right away. I'm forcing them to make a choice. Loyalty or treason, as simple as that."
Korak nodded grimly. He was formulating another question when Davek's comlink buzzed. He brought it to his lips and said, "This is Emperor Fel." It sounded surreal on his lips.
"The Chiss party had just arrived, sir," his aide said. "Should I send them to your conference room?"
"Please do." Davek flicked off the comm. He told Korak, "I'm sorry, Captain, it looks like I have other business."
Before, as admiral to captain, he'd been Benyon. A first name, intimate, befitting all they'd gone through as Voidwalkers. Now, as emperor to subject, it was all titles. Sensing that, Korak rose, tucked his datapad under one arm, and raised the other to salute.
"Dismissed," Davek said, and the younger man hurried out of the conference room, leaving Davek alone with his wife at last. He swung his head to face her and said, "Your opinion?"
"I think you made the right choice," she said, still cool.
"I'm glad you approve." He was, but he knew he didn't sound it. For a long time he'd relied on Renwar, trusted her, considered her a friend. He knew Marasiah, too, had a friend who'd been loyal to Veers. If he was still alive, if he were ever captured, his fate would be the same.
It was just one hard choice awaiting him if he was to hold the Empire together. There were more to come and if he couldn't accept this burden he could never shoulder what was to come.
But he would have to shoulder it. For the sake of the trillions of sentient beings in the Empire who deserved better than what Veers would make. For the sake of his father.
"I appreciate you not questioning my judgment in front of him," Davek said, "But I need your advice, Marasiah. Now more than ever."
"I told you I agree."
"We need to be united. We need to be seen as united. Because you were right, this is all about symbols. You're already a symbol for the Jedi in the eyes of most of our citizens. You need to be that, now more than ever."
"You're serious about shutting off ties with Ossus."
"I need the Imperial knights to be separate from the Jedi. And if they're separate they need their own leader."
She nodded, still guarded, unsurprised. They'd talked little of Arlen or Jaina since Davek made his declaration. He hadn't talked to his brother or mother either; he'd been grateful to have too much else to do.
When the door to the conference room slid open next he jerked to his feet in surprise. His aunt Wyn was there in her black Chiss admiral's uniform, as expected. So was his adopted cousin Kanarn, also in black. Behind them, in his pale antique tunic but no brown robes, was Arlen.
Davek's eyes locked on his brother's. He swallowed hard and said, "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you."
"It's okay." Arlen shrugged. "I've actually been with Aunt Wyn since we delivered the package from Balmorra."
"What about your daughter?"
"Back on Champion, with Tamar."
"Arlen..."
"I know. I'm a disloyal Jedi liable to be convicted for crimes against the Empire." He smiled sourly and spread his hands. "I won't be here long. I was going to start for off Ossus pretty soon. I wanted to see if you'd come with."
Roan and Vitor were still there. He wanted his sons back at Bastion, at the newly-repaired Jedi academy with Marasiah, but he'd put off retrieving them, again with the excuse that there was so much else to do. He was honest with himself; he was afraid of seeing his mother. Even if Jaina understood what he'd done was necessary she'd never approve.
But as Emperor he had to shoulder his burdens and face his fears, one after another. "I appreciate that, Arlen. Thank you. I'll make arrangements."
That surprised his brother, but Arlen nodded. There was so unsaid and so much understood. Davek turned his attention to his aunt and cousin. "Thank you again for the help you provided. There was no way we could have turned the battle at Yaga Minor without your arrival."
"The Chiss Ascendancy formally extends gratitude to you and your brother for revealing Veers' deception," Wyn said.
"What does that mean going ahead?" broached Marasiah, still seated at the table. "Veers is still out there. You haven't punished him yet."
"We're very aware. The Ascendancy has approved the creation of a detached special task force that will help your fleets track down and destroy Veers."
"Will you be leading?" Davek raised a brow.
"For now. I can't give details right now. There are many in the Ascendancy wary of prolonged involvement in someone else's civil war."
Davek couldn't blame them. From all reports Veers had all the Velcar sector and most of the Corrien sector declaring loyalty to him. As reports of defections from the Third Fleet came trickling in it became clear he had the means to defend them as well. The war against Veers might drag on for years; the war for the hearts and minds of the average Imperial citizen might drag on for even longer. He knew there were still many beings who, too reasonably, saw Davek's actions as a dangerous misstep, if not an act of treason against a legal ruler.
"I'm thankful for your help," he told his aunt, "But the unpleasant reality is that many of our citizens won't see a problem with Veers dragging the Chiss into our war. If we have proof he had Avaris killed, that's something different."
"The Imperial agent was captured was surprisingly forthcoming," said Wyn. "He explained in detail how he and the Mandalorians staged the false-flag on Cam'co station. He says he believes Veers was also behind Avaris' assassination but he had no specific proof. He only believes because a Sith told him so."
The reproach in her voice was clear enough. Davek believed, firmly, that Veers and Retor of Kuhvult had arranged Avaris' death to pave the way for Veers' ascension but he still had no proof.
"Please, give a copy of what the agent gave you," Davek told Wyn. "From there… we'll compile sufficient evidence to convince people Veers killed Avaris."
"Compile?" Arlen's face screwed tight. "You mean fake?"
"We will convince our people of what we already know and in doing so break Veers' claim as rightful ruler," Davek said sternly. "I'm trying to end a civil war as soon as I can, using any method I can."
"Yeah. I figured that already."
The brothers held hostile gazes; then Marasiah said, "When we go to Ossus, we'll be taking our own ship. So we can bring Vitor and Roan back with us."
"Of course" Arlen's eyes flicked away from Davek's. "I was expecting that. When will you be coming?"
"Soon," Davek said. "Very soon. Don't worry."
Arlen grunted, faint approval. Davek looked at the mirror-smooth tabletop. It would be hard meeting his mother but it had to happen. And once it was done he could take Marasiah and his sons back to Bastion and, mind a little freer of anxiety, set himself to finishing what his father started.
He hoped.
-{}-
She forced him to his knees without a gesture, without a warning. Pain shot through his legs as they slammed on the hard black stone of the chamber but he took it in, accepted it. As a Sith, Darth Kroan could do that much at least. He lifted his head to stare up at Darth Wyyrlok. Her eyes were hard and her face betrayed at little as her Force aura. All he could feel was the raw power of Darth Krayt flowing through her, waiting to be used, like a stormcloud about to burst.
She was shaming him; he understood that. As Retor of Kuhvult he'd never knelt, never bowed, not to anyone. As Darth Kroan he'd only genuflected once, when he'd been brought in the presence of Lord Krayt as he dreamed. Even then, deep down, the act had offended the pride that had been bred into him as heir to a centuries-old Kuati house.
When it became clear she was waiting for him to speak from this posture of obedience, Darth Kroan said, "I did all I could to come to you, Lord Wyyrlok. I swear I'll do anything to atone for my failure."
He tried to make his shame and regret clear in the Force. They were authentic as could be; Arlen Fel and his pet Mandalorian had beaten him again, far worse than before. He bore the mark of failure on his face: mottled patches of burnt flesh, scars from his own Force lightning, crept up from his right cheek, past his eye, and across his bare scalp. Gone were the holo-star good looks he'd used to charm the upper echelons of the galaxy's business class. On his flight back to Shedu Maad he'd heard all the reports on the news-nets of his supposed murder by the Jedi. It had briefly eclipsed reports from Imperial Space before the calamity on Coruscant eclipsed them both. It was humiliating beyond words to see a lifetime of work turned to ash but he still retained his drive, his anger. Wyyrlok would see that. Through her, Krayt would feel it. They would let him do the work that was needed.
He believed that. He'd clung to that belief on his flight back to the One Sith's hidden base, but now that he stared at her cold and powerful eyes he finally started to doubt.
She asked, "What do you think you can do for us, Lord Kroan?"
"Vengeance," he said. The word came out without his willing, as though she- and Krayt- were drawing it from his mind.
"How? You can never be Retor for us again."
"I was never Retor. Even when I only had his name, I was Kroan waiting to be born."
He believed that with all his soul. She could tell that, surely, but still she looked down on him with cold discerning eyes.
"Ever before we found you, you were prideful."
"Pride is no sin for one of our kind."
"No. But you were also vain." She bent low and reached out. A hand marked with red and black tattoos gently ran down the scars of his face.
"I won't repair them," he said. "I'll keep them, to remind me of what I've lost."
"To fuel your vengeance."
"Exactly. Allow me to stay on Shedu Maad and grow stronger. I will not fail you again."
"Is this your promise to Lord Krayt?"
"It is my promise."
She drew her hand back a little but the tips of her fingers still lightly stroked the scar tissue. "You should know that things will be changing from now on."
"Change how?" He had no idea what she meant.
"Our hold on the Hapan Consortium is about to become much more… absolute. It may draw the attention of the Jedi."
"The perfect opportunity for revenge."
"And obedience." She stabbed her fingernails, splitting skin and drawing blood.
"I live to serve Lord Krayt." His lip curled, bearing teeth.
"Remember that well, Darth Kroan. And surrender your vanity."
"I will. You can be sure of it."
"I already am," Darth Wyyrlok said, and she pressed her whole palm around Kroan's skull. Force lightning burst from her hand before he could raise his defenses; pain exploded in his mind, freezing his limbs, cutting him off from the Force. In his agony he could feel her direct the destructive energies to dance across his skin, burning his face, making the scars left from Balmorra small hints of his new disfigurement.
And even in his agony Darth Kroan understood. This was the purging of his vanity, the punishment for his failures, the mark that he was now and forever hers to command.
-{}-
In the weeks since her granddaughter's death, the pain of loss had gradually receded. Demia Lohr forced herself to go about the business of directing the Hapes Consortium as she had for thirty years. She'd resumed the normal duties of listening to the fawning of the Duchas and punishing those who stepped too far in their corruption. She listened to Lenor Chalk's briefing every morning as she stood on her private balcony, looking out at the ocean. Somewhere in those waters, what was left of Serissa drifted. She knew that the girl had brought her fate on herself just as her mother before her. Demia did not regret the act, only its necessity.
Yet despite it all, she was tried. The work of ruling no longer brought satisfaction.
There was some solace to be had. For thirty years she'd led the Consortium to a path of total isolation from galactic affairs and felt more glad of it now than ever. The Consortium was hermetic but not blind; its listening posts picked up all the gruesome details of the raider attacks on Imperial space, the murder of its leaders, and the ferocious civil war in which the Jedi, predictably, were in the middle. Then had come the news of the disaster on Coruscant. She still wasn't clear on the facts, only that one of the Alliance's greatest warships had fired on the ecumenopolis before crashing into the planet, killing millions. Rumor placed the Jedi in the middle of that too. Some even said they'd caused it.
All in all, her choice of isolation for Hapes had never looked better.
One strangeness lingered in her mind. Since the death of her granddaughter the Sith had not spoken with her at all. They'd not contacted her and she'd not contacted them. She'd gone longer stretches without dealing with them but it seemed odd, given how active their Jedi rivals were across the galaxy of late. She'd kept on expecting Darth Avanc or his Chiss disciple to appear and ask for her assistance in their struggle with the other cultists, but they simply never materialized.
She knew she'd never be released from her bonds to the Sith easily. Their absence was therefore becoming suspicious.
With the Sith, all she could do was wait. As for the rest, news came in steadily. Two days after word first broke of the Coruscant disaster she woke early and found herself eager for Lenor's briefing. She looked forward to news of punishment the Jedi so rightly deserved for their ceaseless meddling. Demia therefore threw a loose shimmersilk robe over her nightgown and went onto the balcony to watch the early-morning light play across the waters. She smelled the salt spray, listened to the weeping of seabirds, and found herself feeling more at peace than she had in months.
She stayed like that for a while, until she heard the sound of the door behind her hissing open. "You're early," she said as she turned, then froze.
Her granddaughter stood two meters away from her. She wore a loose cloak, simple and plain, that hid her figure and matched her black hair. Serissa simply stared at her, dark eyes narrowed, as though she were deep in thought.
Demia's heart raced at the sight; then her pulse subsided. She understood- instinctively, somehow- that all this was still a dream. A vivid dream, amazingly so, but still a fantasy. She'd not dreamed of Serissa after the girl's death, not like she'd dreamed of Melor, but it had to happen sooner or later. Her granddaughter took two long steps toward her but stopped short of touching. Her lips pursed; her jaw worked to form words but nothing came out.
Demia spoke instead. "It's all right, Serissa. I understand. I forgive you."
The words made Serissa's eyes harden. Her expressionless face became a sneer and she said, "I do not forgive you."
Suddenly Demia felt pressure on her throat, as though invisible hands had grasped it. Her fingers went for it but all they found was an old woman's sagging skin. The pressure tightened and tightened; her windpipe felt on verge of cracking and she realized this wasn't a dream, not even a nightmare.
As she gasped for air that wouldn't come her vision started to blur. Blackness crept around the edges of her sight and the only part of the world to remain in focus was her granddaughter's eyes. They were narrowed in hatred and somehow, impossibly, their dark irises seemed to tint red-gold.
-{}-
The old woman's throat finally snapped with an audible crunch. As the certainty of death took Demia Lohr her eyes bulged; her mouth hung open and her dry tongue rolled pathetically out. As the last breath left her lungs the old queen released her death rattle and her arms fell limp at her sides. Serissa released her and let her collapse on the balcony in a puddle of her own robes.
Serissa stood there, looking down at the body of her grandmother. Her mind was blank, all the anger of spite of a second ago drained. She's murdered before but this was different. She was stunned at what she'd done.
Gently, Darth Terrid dropped from the palace roof and planted his boots beside Serissa's. When she didn't react to his presence he asked, "Isn't this what you wanted from the beginning?"
His voice made her shudder. Serissa composed herself, swallowed, and turned to face him. "I did. I just never imagined it happening this way."
Terrid understood. She was less stunned by what she had done than how she'd done it. Serissa's natural instincts- her pride, her ambition, her long-smoldering spite- impelled her to the dark side, but she still had little control over her powers. She merely let her instincts surge through her and used what they provided with little conscious thought.
"You are now queen," Terrid said, "But you are a long way from being a Sith Lord."
"I know. I'm ready to learn."
"And your aims for the Hapes Consortium?"
"I'm ready to remake it."
"Those are two great tasks. Are you sure you're ready to undertake them at once?"
She scowled. "If you didn't think I was you wouldn't have let me kill her. I will become queen and Sith, at the same time. They're not two tasks, they're one in the same."
Darth Wyyrlok, he thought, would be very pleased to hear that. "Your training should be quite… unique."
"Will you be doing it? Are you still my Master?"
"Do you still want to be my apprentice?"
Surprise flicked over her face for a second; she wasn't expecting to be given a choice. "Yes."
"Why?"
Hesitation, again for but a second. "You've changed since we came back."
"How?" He'd felt it, known it, but never quite found the words to explain it to himself.
She looked at him and considered. "You seem as though you've broken whatever chains held you to the person you once were. You seem more a Sith than before. That's why I want you to train me. I want to leave what I was behind."
"And become what?"
She lifted her head proudly. "A better, stronger version of what I was."
Terrid couldn't restrain a smile. That was the core of this girl that had reminded him so much of himself from the beginning. She was right: after the hunt for Abeloth and its climax amidst the burning ruins of Coruscant, he felt that something in him had been forged anew. The weak but driven Jedi apprentice of twenty years ago was long gone, but so was the uncertain Sith who cowered before the power of Darth Avanc.
He was a new Sith, his own Sith, and no matter how hard Darth Wyyrlok and Krayt's other acolytes tried to bend Serissa to their will, Terrid knew that she, too, would never be fully tamed.
"I believe there is much I can teach you. And much we do for each other," he said, and to his satisfaction, Serissa smiled back.
