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Mandator IV Siege Dreadnaught Fatalizer on approach to Titan, Sol System
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The mood aboard the First Order's largest warship was one of accomplishment. They had delivered a crippling blow to the imbecilely-named 2nd Galactic Empire at minimal cost, which had allowed their client-allies, the Confederacy of Earth Nations, to scour the rimward expansions of the Bloodstripe Run.
General Crisis had monitored news from the campaign via snippets of garbled long-range hyperwave radio transmissions and had bristled in regards to missing the front-line action and reaping some of the glory for his 23rd Legion of the First Order. But for what prize? Abandoned Imperial colony worlds? The ruins of empty hypermatter storage facilities?
He commanded a single Legion, over-strengthened that it was, from the whittled down remains of three Legions battered and bled at Kazoook. Every trooper lost was irreplaceable. The 7th Fleet of Conquest was just that, a strike force designed and destined to attack the hated New Republic. Their well-earned position in the First Order's liberation of the Home Galaxy from the usurpers of the Rebellion under Supreme Leader Kylo Ren had itself been usurped by a Knight of Ren, Vala's, personal mission of retrieving the returned Emperor Palpatine's possessions from the vaults on Wayland. And it had been that mission, that distraction from the glory Crisis had yearned for, that had sidetracked the entire fleet to this force-forsaken distant galaxy far from their original home. The 7th Fleet and its 23rd Legion carried with them a host of officers and sailors, Stormtroopers and pilots. What it did not carry with it were support personnel, shipyard workers, factory workers, farmers and herders, explorers and transport drivers and most importantly, a single reinforcement.
In the year they had been preparing for war with the Empire nine troopers and sailors had died in accidents or from health issues. A low amount for a fleet in any single year, but Crisis saw it for what it was. Nine dead with no one to replace them. Like the service droids they carried aboard their ships the troops and sailors of the 7th Fleet would eventually wear down and stop functioning. The First Order of the Home Galaxy would eventually become the Last Order of the Milky Way.
For now, it was fine to let the Earth do the Nexu's share of the blood spilling for the Milky Way. They had five billion near-humans on their home world, far outnumbering the suspected numbers who inhabited the 2nd Galactic Empire. Let them drown each other, Crisis thought. The First Order would be there at the end to pick up whatever pieces were worth having.
So far the only thing that had caught their eye was a moon that went by Titan. Crisis found it odd that Titan's name, and the names of several of the other planets and moons of the Sol System, had been developed by a rather deity-minded naming scheme the Earthlings had cooked up a couple millennia ago. And what a prize it was. The largest moon of Earth 6, or Saturn to the Earthlings, was filled with liquid methane and ethane and covered in a thick organonitrogen haze. The three chemicals required, when spun with tibanna at ultra-dense pressures, to make basic hypermatter without having to drill down to a planet's core. The First Order did not have the equipment for such a task, but they knew where to find some. While Admiral Jethran had taken the Fatalizer and a good portion of the 7th Fleet through the Almuhit Maelstrom to hit the Empire, he had left the Mizery with one task; seize the gas-mining complex the Empire ran over the gas giant Earth 5. Which luck would have it had its orbit rather close to Earth 6 this time of the century.
Which was why, when the Fatalizer and the rest of the Nal Kuat strike force emerged from their mission back in the Sol System, they were met with the sight of a Mandator IV Siege Dreadnaught being dwarfed by a converted Cardon I Spacestation heavily modified into a massive tibanna factory. The Mizery, as well as her escorts the Imperial class Star Destroyers Rage, Calamity and Contagion, all had the monster of a space station under tow with their tractor beams.
"Admiral, we are being hailed." Captain Pandem, the commander of the Fatalizer told Admiral Jethran, who had been standing nearby receiving a report from the dreadnaught's quartermaster on the pitiful status of their hypermatter bunker storage since their jump after finally escaping the confines of the Almuhit several hours ago.
Jethran turned away from the supply officer and moved to join Captain Pandem on the central bridge walkway. General Crisis and his adjutant Commander Obota had transferred to the Fatalizer ahead of the jump for this very moment, the triumphant return of the most powerful flotilla in the Milky Way, for whatever that was worth.
A hologram projected into the center of the bridge revealed Senior Captain Arger, commander of the Mizery. "A hardy congratulations on your striking triumph. Word reached us through intercepted Imperial channels of the turmoil and destruction you caused."
"A day that will go down in the glorious history of the First Order, no doubt." Jethran responded. Crisis wondered who would be around to read it after they were all gone. "I see you have been busy. That's quite the prize you have there."
"Indeed, Fleet Admiral. As you suspected the President didn't raise a finger." Arger reported. "He ceded us the rights to Titan for a thousand years."
"I'm sure we have Supreme Leader Ren's influence to thank for that. Once these Force-users get their hooks into you . . ." Jethran trailed off. Arger flinched and nodded his understanding. The rumors about Vala Ren's abilities were the stuff of nightmares. Crisis had seen Kylo Ren in action several times and heard stories that he had been trained to do vile things with the Force by none other than the late Supreme Leader Snoke. And just before they had been pulled from Wayland in that mysterious accident last year there had been orders to return to the Emperor's service at Exegol where they would serve the Sith Eternal and consign their souls to the service of the Dark Side forever.
"Perhaps you'd like to inspect your new trophy, Admiral." Arger asked, referring to the great space station his ships had in tow.
"I would." Jethran spoke to both Arger and Pandem, "Continue on course to this Titan place. Maintain alert though. I just learned that this system, despite the capture of Amidala City, hasn't been fully subdued and I'd hate to be surprised by any lingering Imperial presence on Mars."
"Aye, sir." Pandem responded.
"I am taking my shuttle over to the factory ship. Captain, care to meet me there?" Jethran asked.
"I am on my way, sir. I will see you in a few moments." Arger closed the connection and vanished from the bridge.
Jethran noticed Crisis and Obota standing to the side. "General, would you also like to join me? After all, it was your troopers that captured the prize from the Empire."
"I would at that, sir. I've only received preliminary reports on the action but it doesn't seem as if the owners of that station gave us much trouble." Crisis fell into step alongside the Admiral as they left the bridge.
"Not a single trooper lost from my understanding."
"The Ugnaughts surrendered without a bolt being blasted."
"Impressive. Though what can you expect from a species that's spent some thirty or forty odd years living under the Tarkin Doctrine. Its influence has even shaped some of our maxims in the First Order." Jethran explained.
"I certainly felt its presence during General Hux's speech on Starkiller." Crisis said.
Jethran stutter-stepped for a second, before continuing, "Yes, um, the less said about Starkiller the better. Especially around our clients within the Confederacy."
"Aye, sir. I'm just glad the 7th Fleet had nothing to do with it, nor the follow up action on D'Qar. Losing the Fulminatrix like that. Embarrassing." Crisis picked at the old wound. Though the Resistance had hurt the 1st Fleet of Conquest, the nine other First Order Fleets of Conquest had little trouble subduing their assigned targets in the early days of the war they had left behind.
"Captain Canady and I fled from the 1st Galactic Empire together with our respective ships after Jakku. I hate to disparage the dead, but Moden Canady showed little inspiration even back then, choosing politics over tactics." Jethran gave Crisis a peek into the hazards of high command.
"And look at us now."
"Ha. Dealing with the CEN has been a more grueling battle than any campaign I ever led. We must always endeavor to keep the upper hand with them lest they bite it off one day." Jethran warned. Crisis couldn't agree more.
They boarded one of the Fatalizer's Xi light shuttles and once they entered the cockpit Admiral Jethran dismissed the pilot. The commander of the First Order's military forces took a seat behind the controls. He familiarized himself with the controls, refraining from further conversation to focus on his flying. As they strapped themselves into the rear passenger seats, Commander Obota raised a questioning eyebrow. "Is the Admiral capable of flying this shuttle?"
Crisis chuckled. "Very much so. Are you not familiar with our Admiral's service history?"
"Not as much as I'd like. Just what I've seen in the past year. I'd never heard about him before we joined you guys a few days before Starkiller took out those traitors on Hosnian Prime. Before that my unit was heavily involved with the hunt for Lor San Tekka and I'm afraid I didn't have the time to keep up with every Captain and Admiral in the First Order." Obota admitted.
"Do you mind, sir?" Crisis asked Jethran's permission.
"Go right ahead. The stories have all been told before, and unlike our recent revolving cast of Supreme Leaders, my life is an open holo-novel." Jethran revved up the engines of the shuttle craft. The dismissed pilot settled into the sensor operator's seat.
Crisis weighed his words carefully. It would not do to cast doubts on their commander at such a critical point in the war. "When he enlisted from Nirauan, like many who had been sent to settle the Unknown Regions, he wasn't given access to the top flight schools. Instead he was sent to what used to be known as the Skystrike Academy where they created some of the best and most loyal pilots in the Old Empire."
"I wouldn't go that far." Jethran interceded. "My class did have two defections during my stay there."
"The rebels were already up to their old tricks even back then." Obota joked.
"I'm not that old." Jethran gave a stern look back to the younger officer.
Crisis continued. "Our Admiral was eventually assigned to Death Squadron, but in the aftermath of Hoth half of his squadron, including his commander, was lost in an asteroid field pursuing fleeing rebels. Afterwards he stood out during the seizure of some mining facility at Bespin in the Anoat System and was given his own squadron."
"Who knew my career would bring me full circle." Jethran pointed at the massive Cardon I space station his ships were towing towards them. "I'm right back to being a gas pirate."
"His squadron fought at Endor, where they single-handedly took down the Absolution, a Nebulon B Frigate."
"We were almost called upon to chase the rebels into the Death Star II, but luckily another squadron was given the task. Sadly none of them made it out of there again." Jethran stared unemotionally at the stars ahead. Crisis knew the Admiral was concerned with keeping as many of the First Orderls followers alive until they could carve out a place of their own in this new Galaxy. He wondered if the Admiral sought knowledge from old losses in order to avoid new ones. "By Jakku he was in command of a Gozanti cruiser, which he was able to save and evacuate to our bases in the Unknown Regions where he pledged his allegiance to our late Supreme Leader Snoke."
"Well originally I linked up with Grand Admiral Sloane. She's the one that hooked us into Snoke's service. My men and myself have served loyally ever since." Jethran humbly admitted.
"I will say you have, sir." Crisis turned to face Obota squarely, "You know of our TIE/fos, our Whispers, TIE/fbs, Scorpions, Lightnings, Daggers? All him."
"Really, Admiral?" Obota looked surprised, as he should. Jethran didn't admit to anything but slightly grinned as he flew the shuttle.
"When he came back from Jakku he requested and was granted the job of commander of one of our best flight academies aboard the Finalizer, the First Order's "Prefsbelt". Thereafter he held a series of important aviation jobs, both in the void and behind a desk: Captain of the Assaulter, Chief of the Technical Ministry of First Order Naval Command, Commander of the First Resurgent Squadron, Director of First Order Air Command. Throughout the entirety of his career, even now as a Fleet Admiral, our Admiral has made it a point of flying in naval airspeeders of every type, even during the most hazardous training missions. By exposing himself personally to the risks of those wild days where the First Order was merely trying to survive in the Unknown Regions, Admiral Jethran established an emotional bond with the pilots of the First Order Navy, one that continues to this day."
"I've heard you have some pretty aggressive training regimens for your pilots, sir." Obota told the Admiral, but Jethran didn't bite, preferring Crisis to fill him in on the details.
"I knew that some of the lives of my pilots would be cut short, but sacrifices were necessary to ensure the First Order held dominance over the pathetic Resistance and their Republic masters once we emerged into the Galaxy once again."
"I've been aboard Fatalizer, sir. I've seen the names of all the pilots you've lost under your command inscribed on the walls of your wardroom." Commander Obota stated. Crisis had caught Jethran a time or two reading the names with tears in his eyes. Nobody ever remembered the names of the troopers they lost, they were just operating numbers to many officers. That needed to change, Crisis realized as he thought of the ten thousand they had left for dead on Kazoook.
Jethran told them something that chilled Crisis to his bone. "Our TIE Forces will probably never be really strong until that whole wardroom is plastered with names like those. Eventually we shall draw in Earthlings to fill our numbers. We shall teach the Confederacy the true meaning of sacrifice. I want you to be resigned to that idea in your work."
"Yes, sir." Both Stormtrooper officers replied.
"Of course, whoever the Confederacy gives us will have to go through your reprogramming, General." Jethran told him.
Crisis smiled, he knew the not-so tender mercies of the First Order's programming would rapidly turn the Earthling's loyalties from President Harris to their new masters.
His Stormtroopers had far more rigorous physical programming in which it was rare when one didn't escape the process without a broken bone or injury of some sort. In the past this wasn't a concern because of bacta, but in the current war the entirety of bacta producing planets consisted of one, New Thyfeeria, deep in Imperial territory. Not that Crisis was concerned yet, as he hadn't started drawing Earthlings into his Stormtrooper Legion nor had his current troopers been committed to any major attack which would have required a major stockpile of bacta, the attack on Kazoook notwithstanding.
Pilots, however, had a way of getting chewed up and spit out, and without a visible replacement pool to draw from, Jethran had made the decision to offer opening to Earthlings interested in joining the First Order. President Harris, eager to get access to advanced technologies, had allowed it. It would be some time before Earthlings joined the bucketheads. Crisis steeled himself for the difficulties that would come of integrating Earthers into the First Order.
The Confederacy made High Human Culture look infantile, with mandates stating their Earth based species was vastly superior to alien-based human races. Not only that, but they limited themselves to a restrictive caste system and practiced internecine squabbles with each other over illogical matters such as race and skin color or concerns over the dozen or so religious cults they had founded on their home world. Weeding out the more zealous xenophobes and ensuring that they did not grow to resent the First Order's influence would require an extensive amount of time and effort. The Confederacy had limited applicants to only their 1st and 2nd classes, their smallest pool of citizens. Less than 1 percent of Earth applicants passed the written exam, deliberately administered in aurabesh, and many of the fortunate few who made that initial cut would then be weeded out during rigorous physical exams. Those that had made it thus far, awaited the First Order's establishment of a training center. Supreme Leader Ren did not bother with such trivial matters and it had been up to Admiral Jethran to propose an initial base on Titan, far from prying eyes.
The select few would eventually be sent there into basic training amongst the mass of refinery equipment and near toxic fumes the Ugnaughts tended to thrive in. There the hopeful pilots would begin each day at 0500 followed by forced immersion in cold water. The recruits would rush out to the parade ground, kneel in the perceived direction of Exegol, which no one had figured out just yet, recite an oath to the returned Emperor and Supreme Leader Ren, and then be led through a punishing calisthenics routine. Everywhere, throughout their days, they would be expected to run, not walk. Meals would be meager and twice a day, consisting mostly of that new rice food the Earthlings had introduced to the First Order, and occasionally some fish or meat would be added from the fleet's dwindling stores. Parade ground drills and basic combat against seasoned Stormtroopers of the 23rd Legion, designed to make the recruits lose, would alternate between classroom instruction in space navigation, blaster technologies, flight concepts and engineering. Each would have to maintain a minimum grade average or face expulsion, and since the First Order couldn't risk sending failures back to Earth, dropouts would be quietly reassigned or disposed of on Titan. At night they would sleep in hammocks slung from the walls of their barracks with their heads plugged into Castellan Restraints where the device's brain-wave projections would slowly erode memories of Earth and drive their loyalty to the First Order.
Recruits into the First Order TIE Corps would be subject to an unremitting brutality by instructors and officers. Any infraction, shortfall, wrong answer, or complaint would bring instant retribution, ranging from a casual slap across the face or being bent over while instructors repeatedly beat them across the shebs with clubs. New baseball bats had been procured from the Confederacy for just such a reason. No cry or moan would be permitted. An entire squad would be subjected to a brutal beating for any one recruit's imagined transgression. If any bones broke, the injured recruit would have to be sent off to the infirmary and once healed without bacta would be shoved into the subsequent class of recruits. Crisis remembered it all too well as his first twenty life days were spent undergoing similar conditions to become a First Order officer. When he had started at five years of age in a class of seventy-five some forty-six other younglings had dropped out and had been forced into Stormtrooper programing within the first year.
Jethran wanted a cadre of elites to fly the TIE/fo, TIE/fb and TIE Whispers, the hottest airspeeders in this Galaxy and the last. Memories of Poe Dameron's Black and Rapier Squadrons had already been washed away from the minds of the First Order's TIE Fighter Corps by the success of Nal Kuat. The Admiral desired Earthling replacements that were super-athletes, pilots endowed with superior physical traits that were to be honed in the punishing training regimen. The Earthlings would be made to train in gymnastics and acrobatics to improve their strength, balance, coordination and reaction times. They'd learn to walk on their hands and balance on their heads for five minutes, they'd run for kilometers in four or five full sets of flight suits in extreme heat conditions. They'd be pushed off towers and required to land on their feet. They'd be ordered to hang by one arm from durasteel poles for twenty minutes. Every pilot would be required to swim fifty meters in less than thirty seconds and remain underwater for three minutes to prepare for explosive decompressions. Pilot recruits would be pitted against each other in vicious wrestling matches, the winners permitted to walk away while exhausted losers would be forced to remain on the mat to take on the next recruit. Any unlucky perpetual loser that could not get back on their feet would be dismissed from the program, most likely through an airlock.
The choice to use Earth recruits was not an easy decision, but with the heavy losses at Kazoook and the handful of their top pilots clipped at Nal Kuat the writing was on the wall. They would do what they must. The First Order had to survive.
"We're here." Jethran announced as the Xi approached a landing bay on the side of the Cardon I.
"Let's see if our prize was worth all the fuss." General Crisis announced. He stood up and made sure his aurodium plated armor was situated right.
They emerged from the shuttle craft a few moments later. Jethran led the way down the loading ramp dressed in his white uniform. Obota wore a matching teal uniform while Crisis stood out in his golden armor. Not that there were many on hand to witness their arrival. Captain Arger had arrived only a few minutes before them, perhaps because his journey from the Mizery was a much shorter one.
Only a few beings stood ready to greet them as they debarked. Captain Arger stood in front of two Stormtroopers who stood guard on a single Ugnaught dressed in what appeared to be a rather expensive suit along the lines of what President Harris and his cronies wore. Earth was represented as well in the personage of Foreign Minister Volodin, escorted by four strangely dressed men in black suits with silver adornments and wide brimmed hats. The hangar was dimly lit but Crisis noticed a pair of sinister figures lurking in the back of bay. They must not have posed an imminent danger or the nearby Stormtroopers would have taken care of them.
Crisis had seen footage of Confederate and New Mandalorian receptions and holidays. He'd even heard the 2nd Galactic Empire had expanded on some of the Fete week celebrations they had brought with them from the Home Galaxy. His father had told stories of celebrations in the Old Republic, but this was the First Order and the most congratulations they would receive was a handshake and a salute before reporting back to their duties. As such any pomp and circumstance was severely out of place.
Volodin was the only one who offered any applause by emitting a single clap as they reached the hangar deck. It took a second for Crisis to realize the Earthling's gesture was merely a signal to his men rather than appreciation. The black clad men raised Earth instruments up and started playing a welcoming tune. They sang in unison, except for the trumpet player. "Hola, from the other side."
They played for several uncomfortable moments. Crisis didn't know what to make of the music, deciding it sounded akin to Jizz Wailing. Music was not very big in the First Order, with only somber martial tunes being played to mark occasions. Jethran walked up and exchanged salutes with Captain Arger and both men faced off uncomfortably as they waited for the Confederate representative to end his ridiculous tune.
Volodin, with his strange accent which made him sound like a holotape of General Grievous, walked right up to Admiral Jethran and offered his hand. "Congratulations, my dear, dear, Admiral. Your crippling of the Imperial fleet has allowed the string of victories the Confederate Space Force now enjoys."
Admiral Jethran raised a questioning look to Captain Arger. The junior commander responded. "They won a minor engagement against some Imperial secondary units at Plympto Blight a few days ago, but their initial timetable is well behind schedule."
Crisis was not surprised. He always suspected the CEN was promising a lot more than they could deliver. Even with the new ships the First Order had provided plans for, antique Clone Wars relics that they were, the First Order never expected the Space Force to do much against the front line ships of the Imperial Navy.
"Foreign Minister, you lied to us." Admiral Jethran accused Volodin.
The fat diplomat seemed to choke on his next words. He had come here to offer congratulations to an ally, not have to defend the actions of the CEN. "I assure you, I did no such thing. As far as the official time table goes, the Space Force is still on the advance and the Imperial Navy continues to retreat coreward. The war may be far from won but we are certainly the ones winning it."
"Where was the Ares?" Jethran demanded.
Volodin caught his thoughts for a second. "Was it not at Nal Kuat?"
"Your agent, this Fulcrum, assured us that the Super Star Destroyer would be at anchor inside the drive yards when we attacked. It was imperative that we knocked her out in the opening moves of this conflict. Instead, we destroyed eight obsolete Imperial Is that looked like they were refitted to fight a static war of bombardment." Jethran glared at the Earthling.
"You annihilated half the Imperial Navy's heaviest warships, ships that tore apart my world twenty years ago and you complain about missing one vessel?" Volodin was affronted and missing the bigger picture.
Jethran chose to enlighten the stuffy diplomat. "That one ship is a Vengeance class Dreadnaught. Her sisters nearly wiped out the Alliance Fleet on their own at Mon Calamari and Da Soocha V."
"That is...most impressive." Volodin admitted, clearly unnerved by the Dreadnaught's raw destructive power. "But you still have the Mizery and your own Fatalizer. Surely the two of them combined would be enough to overpower the Ares."
"Perhaps, combined with my four Maxima A cruisers, we would make a powerful deterrent to the Ares, but any engagement would entail heavy casualties, perhaps the loss of one of my Mandator IVs." Jethran countered.
Arger interjected. "You see, Foreign Minister, our Siege Dreadnaughts are only half the size of the Ares and while each ship is equipped with two large orbital autocannons we do not have a superlaser such as the Ares is equipped with."
"Without her decapitation at the start of this war, I'm afraid the First Order will require a rethinking of its strategy." Jethran stated.
Volodin turned even paler than his pallid skin already was. It was as if all the blood had suddenly drained from his face. "But Admiral Akfar is asking for your warships to move forward down the Eastern and Western lanes of the Bloodstripe. We need them in case the Empire makes a move against any of our landings."
"If any single landing is threatened it means little in the grand scheme of things." Jethran replied and turned to Arger, who had more up to date information since Jethran's task force had been trapped inside the Almuhit for weeks while they escaped the Kuat System. "Where are our ships now?"
"Split. Half at Quarzite II and the other half at MotherGarden. Well behind the Confederate advance, as you instructed."
"Consolidate them at New Ryloth. Our role now must be in flushing out the remnants of the Imperial Navy for a decisive battle. Planets and territorial gains for the Confederacy should not be our concern until the Ares has been dealt with." Jethran ordered.
"But New Ryloth is further rimward than your current positions. You're moving away from the enemy." Volodin complained, not realizing Jethran's intentions on using the advancing Confederate Space Force as bait to draw out the Ares.
"No, Admiral." A sinister voice emerged from the back of the room. Two figures approached; a young man dressed in a black martial arts outfit and a woman dressed in matching black, horrific battle armor, Supreme Leader Vala Ren.
Jethran led Crisis, Arger and Obota in kneeling to their chosen leader. The Earthling bowed at the waist in their style. Nearby the two Stormtroopers knocked the Ugnaught to his knees.
"Admiral Jethran, you have done well. But you should gather our forces together here at this Titan place. They can strike just as easily down the Bloodstripe Run if they're called upon to do so. I also want President Harris to look up from his perch in Confederate Center and see us parked on his lawn."
"Actually, as much as our honorable President needs your warships on the front lines, he also sent me here today with a request for assistance." Volodin stated.
"We are not helping you out on Mars any more than we already have." Vala Ren swore to the Earthling.
"Hasn't Mars already fallen? The schedule called for no more than five days to subdue the Empire's Fortress world." Jethran asked.
"Yes and no, sir." Captain Arger said. "Lady Ren and her associate here performed a flawless execution in the sabotaging of Mars's planetary shield and the initial landings were unopposed."
"So what was the issue?" Crisis asked. He had been more involved in assisting the Confederacy's generals in planning the ground campaign on Mars. Some of his troopers had even been attached to Confederate Legions as advisers and observers. He realized as soon as the 212th Legion had been reduced and dispatched there was little the Empire could do to save the red world.
"These womp-rats let the prey escape." Vala Ren hissed at Volodin.
"Our Generals did no such thing. They prioritized the capture of Amidala City during a rather fluid battle." Volodin explained using political speak.
"What really happened, Captain?" Jethran asked Arger.
"The enemy's 212th Legion skillfully broke contact after declaring Amidala City an open city that they had no intention of fighting for. They then fled west while the CEN's Legions turned and seized the city. The 212th, meanwhile, fled into an area around Olympus Mons where they've set up a very formidable defensive line."
"Our regular Army Divisions are moving into the area to isolate the Imperial defenders. We expect their surrender momentarily." Volodin promised. Crisis wanted to remove his helmet and rub the bridge of his nose. How could they have focused on capturing an undefended city rather than obliterating a fleeing threat? Towns don't flee. Cities can't escape or attack your flanks from behind. The CEN had dropped the ball and let the 212th escape into the hills and now it could take months to dig them out. Well it was their problem, Crisis swore to himself, and he'd be damned if he sent in a single trooper to help them out.
"I'm sure, if you focus on their rations and ammo dumps they will eventually dwindle down to nothing in those hills, Foreign Minister. I take your President's conviction about seizing Mars for Earth as a matter of faith. But if you have matters in hand on Mars, then in what area do you still require our assistance." Jethran inquired.
"I hesitate to even ask this of you, after all the assistance the First Order has given to the Confederacy of Earth Nations to this date." Volodin still spoke in circles with that annoying diplo-speak his kind seemed to revel in. Crisis was convinced that it was beings like him who had led to the fall of the Old Republic.
"Out with it." Vala Ren demanded.
"Yes, you see, we need your expertise in dealing with New Mandalore."
"New Mandalore is not our enemy." Jethran replied.
"Actually, Admiral, they declared war on us hours after your attack on Nal Kuat. They are puppets of the Empire after all. Also our representative on Earth loaned an attack squadron to join with the CEN's initial attack on this New Mandalore place." Arger explained.
"What? I didn't authorize that." Jethran snapped. This triumphant return had turned into an irritable shambles for the military commander. "How bad?"
"Loses were light. One of our TIE/fb and three TIE/fo. All the crews were presumed lost." Arger reported.
"Fierfek. Akfar told me himself that he could overwhelm New Mandalore with his missile forces."
"It seems the Mandalorians had some new kind of energy shield defense system. One your advisors were equally unfamiliar with." Volodin explained, perhaps hoping that shared ignorance could turn into shared blame for the rebuff by the New Mandalorian defense forces.
"Have they attacked beyond their excursion zone on your planet?" Jethran asked.
"Not yet, but there's no telling how long that can last. We've heard many stories about how Mandalorians are nothing more than thugs and mercenaries back in your original Galaxy." Volodin said.
"I suggest we let them be. They pose no threat to the First Order." Crisis argued.
"They pose a threat to us. They are an alien blade in our belly." Crisis did not care for the way Volodin leaned on the word 'alien'.
"I will study this matter, especially the issue with the new defensive shields they are utilizing. If they are seen as giving aide to the Empire, perhaps, with our Supreme Leader's permission, we can dispatch a small task force to deal with them." Jethran offered a token. Vala Ren merely nodded. She had no interest in New Mandalore and Crisis suspected she laughed at the idea of them bothering President Harris so much.
Having made his request and having nothing more to offer than congratulations Volodin must have realized how out of place he was in the company of First Order officers. "I will take your words back to the President along with your assurances for further cooperation between our two states."
"Yes, safe travels, Foreign Minister. I look forward to our final victory on Palpatine Prime." Jethran and Volodin shook hands once more. Volodin merely nodded to Crisis, Arger and Obota. He gave another formal bow to Supreme Leader Ren, but with her lack of response it was tough to tell if she even noticed the Earthling's show of respect. Crisis did notice the strange look Volodin gave the young man who accompanied Vala Ren. It was one of recognition and confusion as to why he was here. A feeling Crisis found himself sharing.
Volodin and his accompanists backed away across the hangar. Even Earthlings didn't like to turn their backs too soon on Vala Ren. She had an aura that oozed danger. It was then that Crisis noticed a Sheathipede shuttle parked along one side of the bay painted in the markings of the Confederate Space Force. Crisis couldn't recall the name the Earthlings called their shuttle craft but knowing how unimaginative they were it probably had something to do with letters and numbers. Volodin boarded his craft and seconds later was departing for his return journey back to his master in Confederate Center.
"Well now that that unpleasantness is over . . ." Admiral Jethran shrugged off the diplomat's visit.
"Supreme Leader, what is he doing here? Isn't he an Earthling? A rather famous Earthling? That makes him one of Harris's sleemos." Crisis pointed an accusing finger at Finnigan Incite who merely returned a condescending smile back in the Stormtrooper General's direction.
"My apprentice is beholden to and loyal to no one besides me and the returned Emperor." She reached out her open hand as if she were holding a staff and began to slowly close her fingers.
Crisis felt his breath being cut off, as if an iron press were squeezing his neck. He gasped for air. Obota and Arger looked on in shock but couldn't do anything to relieve his peril. Vala Ren stepped in front of Crisis. "I don't abide questioning of my decisions, General."
Crisis felt his knees begin to buckle. In a blind panic he looked over to Admiral Jethran, only to find his superior officer staring pointedly at a random position on the hangar's far wall, just as he had while Vala Ren had executed his other officers over Wayland. The General would find no assistance from that quarter.
Crisis barely choked out. "I understand . . ."
"Understand what?"
"Understand . . . Master." The pressure was instantly released from Crisis's airway and he fell to the deck gasping for life-giving oxygen.
"Very good. Do not worry about Finnigan. We have bigger problems." Vala Ren told her gathered officers.
"My lady?" Admiral Jethran asked.
"Before we were cut off from the Home Galaxy our orders from the Emperor were clear. We were to rendezvous with the Sith fleet at Exegol and, under the joint command of Allegiant General Pryde, crush the Resistance and solidify our hold over the galaxy. Our recent campaign here in the Milky Way was designed to snuff out another potential rival to the First Order. Why have more efforts not been made to secure our return?"
"Pryde? What happened to Hux?" Arger quietly asked Obota, having evidently not been informed of Hux's rumored "demotion".
"Supreme Leader, with utmost respect, we have been over this. We do not have the means nor the know how to return to the Home Galaxy. We simply do not know where it is. There is also the matter of the Galactic Barrier. We'd need some kind of Wayfinder to journey between galaxies." Jethran tried to reason with the Knight of Ren.
Vala Ren was silent for several seconds as she considered the Admiral's words. "We gathered many artifacts on Wayland before our accident brought us here to this empty Galaxy with pathetic allies devoid of the Force. Until now I have restrained myself from investigating what we brought aboard our ships. It is clear now that I must make the time to do so. Perhaps I might yet find a means of returning us to where we belong."
Vala Ren turned away from the contingent of officers, seemingly lost in contemplation. "So much to go through. Holocrons, blueprints to lost technologies, arcane lore. I wonder. There is a legend that the Emperor once found the secret to unlocking the Netherworld of Unbeing."
"Excuse me, my Lady?" Jethran prompted her to continue.
"The World between Worlds. You are not meant to understand." Vala Ren warned, her back still turned to the Admiral.
"I see." Said Jethran, who clearly didn't.
"Come, Finnigan. We have much study ahead of us." Vala Ren proceeded to leave, but as she did so she had one last parting thing to offer. "Destroy the traitorous Imperials wherever you may find them, Admiral, but be careful, there are Jedi among them. Leave them to us."
"As you wish, my Lady." Jethran saluted the mysterious Sith as they left the hangar. Crisis assumed they must have their own shuttle parked somewhere else aboard the Cardan I.
"Well, that was interesting." Arger understated the obvious.
"Our Supreme Leader usually is." Jethran said as he watched the two darksiders depart, and then fixed Crisis with a cold glare.
"That is the second time in recent days that you've chosen to speak without thinking, General." Jethran said. "I suggest you break yourself of that habit before it becomes too ingrained."
"Yes, Admiral." Crisis said sullenly as he rubbed his sore throat. He could feel the blood still pounding through his carotid artery as he struggled to massage the pain away. A small, mutinous part of him wanted to justify his outburst. Another part of him felt betrayed that his superior, whom he had always supported to the hilt, had not bothered to offer even a perfunctory attempt to save his life. But Crisis knew that Jethran was still annoyed with him for questioning the Admiral's earlier decision to withdraw the third wave of fighters at Nal Kuat, and so on that front he held his tongue. It was the duty of an officer to obey his superior, after all.
"I don't understand." Arger said simply as he stared at where Vala Ren had been.
"Understand what?" Obota asked.
"She's our Supreme Leader." Arger said. "We have no way back. She has all the power she could hope to have, more than most beings could dream of. And yet she'd give it up so readily for the returned Emperor. She just can't let go of the past."
"She's a Knight of Ren." Jethran answered. "They worship the Darkside. And to them Palpatine was and is the voice, the personification, of the Darkside. He is her idol."
"As he is ours." Arger said solemnly.
Crisis resisted the urge to offer his own opinion. He knew that there were many who still revered the Emperor in the First Order's ranks, and wanted nothing more than to obey his will. Crisis himself had read the reports Kylo Ren had brought to the First Order High Command, and seen the proof which Ren had been provided that the withered husk on Exegol was indeed Palpatine reborn.
In truth Crisis had not been inspired. Palpatine had been great once, but his time was past. The First Order was purer than the Empire had ever been. It needed men like Jethran and Crisis, even people as vicious as Vala Ren. It didn't need a rotting corpse clinging to life. A corpse who's arrogance had cost the Old Empire everything.
"On to other matters," Jethran said, turning away from Crisis. "Who is this you've brought to me?"
The Admiral had indicated the finely-dressed Ugnaught under guard several meters away from the command group.
"Admiral, may I introduce King Wozz, leader of the Ugnaught colony Jupiter's Ugletts and CEO of Figg Tibanna & Hypermatter Spinners. He is the commander of this station. Or he was until General Crisis's Stormtroopers landed." Arger announced.
"A wise decision to stand down your security teams, King Wozz." Jethran greeted the short alien.
"I've witnessed hostile take-overs in my past, Admiral. Always wise to know where the wind blows." King Wozz offered back.
"Indeed, and where is the wind blowing for Jupiter's Ugnaughts?"
"Into the First Order's service with a fifty-fifty profit take?" King Wozz sounded hopeful despite the ridiculousness of his offer.
"How about I don't throw your entire colony out an airlock?" Jethran countered.
"Twenty-five?"
"There is no negotiation to be had, my dear King Wozz. Indentured servitude to the First Order for ten years in exchange for eventual manumission. Sabotage of the refining process here will result in ten random executions from among your colony members. Any illegal contact with the Empire will result in fifty executions from your top men. Am I understood?" Jethran threatened.
King Wozz swallowed the hard pill Jethran offered. "Understood, my Lord."
"Good. Take him away." Jethran immediately ordered the guards, who pushed King Wozz away from the officers until he had been fully removed from the hangar bay. Jethran turned to Arger."Now tell me the truth. How bad is it out there?"
"Not as bad as it could be, sir, but also not as good as President Harris promised us. I doubt they'll ever reach Palpatine Prime at the rate they're going."
"We calculated their fuel reserves before we attacked and came to the same conclusion. That junk hypermatter they produce would never be sufficient to supply an entire fleet for more than a year. It's why we set our sights on Titan and this orbital refinery." Jethran stated.
"Their tibanna and hypermatter factory at Earth 2 produces pretty good blaster gas now but production there is less than a decade old and is hardly capable of supporting sustained combat." Crisis added.
"Is that the real reason for this trophy? A brilliant move, sirs. The Ugnaughts are proud workers and their loyalty is generally to profit, not an Empress. They should be quite able to get us the supply we need so we can reduce our dependence on the CEN." Obota told his superiors.
"Captain, what are your estimates on the Confederate advance?" Jethran asked Arger. Crisis had been wondering the same thing before they had set sail towards Nal Kuat and it had been a matter of much speculation during their isolation inside the Almuhit.
"Infuriatingly leisurely would be an understatement. They seem to be distracted easily by every solitary Stormtrooper with a blaster. They envelop and invade positions that should be bypassed and left to whither on the vine. If First Order warships led the attack instead of acting in support roles the advance would be at Rodia II by now." Arger reported with disgust.
"You dream. Captain. The Confederacy doesn't have the fuelers yet to get their fleet much past the Kuat Spur. And until we get Titan up and running with this station we're dependent on that crude hypermatter the Earth is producing in such meager numbers."
"Snoke help us, my engineers have put three filters on the Mizery's annihilators so far to deal with the junk." Arger replied.
"The war is all about hypermatter and numbers. The Empire has the fuel and the Confederacy the numbers. We are the First Order, not the Infinite Empire." Jethran lectured his commanders. "We came into this new Galaxy with twenty-three warships and three legions. Not a single service vessel amongst our fleet. Our Legions were devastated at Kazoook in battle with the Wookiees . . ." He must have sensed Crisis's unease at the aspersions being thrown on his Stormtroopers. " . . . General, Kazoook was no one's fault. We lashed out at the first thing we came across without the proper reconnaissance and got our hand bitten. We, and our Supreme Leader in her own way, have resolved not to fall into such a trap ever again. That's why it is Earth boys and girls fighting and dying on the front lines and not your troopers. When the Imperial Navy shows itself, we will rush in with a combined strike and smash it once and for all, and that will be the end of things."
"Space Force isn't actually doing all bad. They fought that engagement a few days ago at Plympto Blight." Arger said. "A pair of their Eiffels and their escorts took out a roughly equal sized Imperial rear guard without any losses. Took out two Venators too."
"Really? Interesting." Jethran scratched his chin. "Their Eiffels are nothing more than copies of Trade Federation Providence Dreadnaughts. Venators were designed specifically to take them out."
"It bares investigation but preliminary reports indicate the Earthlings may have modified their proton torpedoes somewhat. They've got unheard of range." Arger reported.
Crisis chuckled. "Perhaps it was wise we didn't inform them how to arm their superiority fighters and bombers with shields and hyperdrives."
"Palpatine forbid. Not even our TIEs have such luxuries." Jethran stated. "It fosters too much independence and takes away the focus on a pilot's own skills. Look how individualistic the Resistance pilots were back home."
"I hope Pryde slaughtered every last one of them at Exegol" Crisis declared fervently. They deserved no less a fate after what they did to Starkiller Base.
"As much as our current Supreme Leader doesn't want to admit it, Exegol is beyond our reach." Jethran's tone became ominous. "We need to establish ourselves in the Milky Way much like the Empire has."
"Titan is a good start." Obota interjected.
"Titan may take months for us to develop. The Ugnaughts have to get us to war production levels as quickly as possible." Arger argued. "Perhaps, General, your Stormtroopers can properly incentivize King Wozz and his followers."
"It would be my pleasure." Crisis smiled eagerly under his helmet, happy at the opportunity to get back into the Admiral's good graces. He'd make the Ugnaughts scream before he was through with them.
"I will request for civilian workers to be sent up from Earth. President Harris will be hurting for hypermatter as his fleet slows their pace and every new planetoid and moon he's conquered is shouting for supplies. We'll ask for an even million and be happy with half that." Jethran proposed.
"I assume they'll go through reprogramming upon their arrival." Crisis concluded, and then thought of an embarrassment in Hux's fleet. "We wouldn't want any FN-2187s in our ranks."
"Indeed not." Jethran agreed. "But one cannot build a civilization on an uninhabitable moon. What are we to do, live underground like the Earthlings do on Earth 1? We don't have the terraforming equipment or the scientists to run it with our fleet. We need an established planet."
"Perhaps we should have stayed with those push over Earthling colonists on New Gaia." Crisis proposed.
"They lacked the facilities to harbor our fleet. We would have rusted to death in a century, or our Supreme Leader would have butchered the lot of us for ignoring Palpatine's call." Jethran countered.
"So we need to eventually seize an Imperial world. It would convince Supreme Leader Ren that we are still moving forward with our plans to build up our strength and return to Exegol." Arger planned. "But which one?"
"Seizing Palpatine Prime would end the threat of the 2nd Galactic Empire once and for all." Crisis offered.
"We'd lose half our fleet just getting there and the Earthlings would not be content with handing over the grand prize to what they perceive as a junior ally. Besides Palpatine Prime is an administrative center, with no mining or agricultural resources. It would be like occupying an artisan colony. Let Harris choke on Palpatine Prime and the Yos Palace." Jethran stated which got a laugh out of each of his junior officers.
"Where do you have in mind, sir?" Obota asked.
"A place I have recently become intimately familiar with. It has the strongest anchorage and docking facilities in the Empire and it bisects the Bloodstripe Run in two, splitting control of the largest hyper-route in the Milky Way between the Empire and the Confederacy. We capture it and we will keep our enemy and our rival at each other's throats for centuries."
"Admiral, you don't mean?" Crisis started to ask, realizing how much of a commitment it would be for the 23rd Legion to capture the place. "There's got to be two million beings on those rings."
"All future citizens of the First Order, not to mention New Thyfeeria is in the same system as well as that mysterious heavy mining planet we spotted on our recent incursion." Jethran confirmed Crisis's guess.
"We need to get more information about that place from Fulcrum." Arger said. "I hate being dependent on the CEN for anything but they do owe us after misdirecting us about the Ares's location."
"We will and we shall. Once the First Order plants its flag there, we will be unstoppable." Jethran declared.
"A brilliant concept, Admiral." Crisis said, though he had serious reservations about capturing the Empire's stronghold. Raiding them while they slept was one thing, landing a Legion and occupying it would be an Eopie of a different color.
Jethran placed his hands on Arger and Crisis's shoulders and smiled. "Gentlemen, today we take Titan. In six months I want us ready to take Nal Kuat."