27
"Captain, we've received a FLASH-level Holonet dispatch."
Captain Ollic regarded the Comm-Scan operator with a curious expression. "Who is the sender?"
"The dispatch is heavily encrypted, Sir. The signatures are valid, but there is no real way to tell who sent it without the appropriate code cylinder."
Ollic nodded and exhaled slowly. "Put the message on a datachip. I will deliver it personally."
"At once, Sir."
The Captain took the offered datachip and began walking to the turbolift. While it was not his place to ask, he couldn't help but wonder what the message was about. Flash priority was reserved for only the most dire of emergencies, but the fact that it was encrypted for the Commodore's eyes only was even more puzzling. Speed was typically of the essence when handling FLASH dispatches.
The last time he remembered receiving a similar FLASH was nine years before, in the aftermath of a Jedi attack on Nirauan. He shook his head at the memory; the situation had been a complete disaster. While Admiral Parck had inexplicably refused to blame the Jedi, Ollic knew they had been responsible for crippling the base's defenses. That in turn had given one of the largest pirate groups in the sector an opening. They raided the damaged fortress less than a week later, capturing the Admiral and holding him for a ransom. The Magistrate been the first to respond, setting out in search of the pirates' base. It was only through skillful maneuvering and a delicate strike operation that they had managed to recover the Admiral.
Before long he was standing in front of the door to the Commodore's quarters. With the barest hint of a hiss, the door slid open, and Ollic stepped into the darkened room with caution. The Chiss eye structure allowed them to see into the infrared spectrum, so they were generally more at home in the dark than most humanoids. The same structure was responsible for the red glow that Ollic still found somewhat disconcerting.
"What seems to be the matter, Captain?" Mantrel asked.
Taking care not to stumble or trip in the dim light, Ollic made his way to the Commodore's desk and placed the datachip on it. "We received a FLASH-level dispatch," he explained. "It was marked for your eyes only."
He slid the chip across the desk, where the Commodore picked it up without a word and slid it into a terminal. Ollic waited for about a minute for him to read the message before speaking again.
"What orders do you have for me, Sir?"
Mantrel appeared to take his time choosing words. "The Chiss Ruling Families have appealed to the Empire of the Hand for assistance," he stated. "All available assets have been directed to make emergency flank speed to Csilla immediately."
Ollic nodded. "I will have Navigation chart a course at once. If I may ask, Sir, what happened?"
Instead of replying directly, Mantrel keyed his desk comm unit. "All commands, this is the Commodore. We have received new instructions from High Command. Prepare to be briefed on your orders in two minutes." Having done that, he came to his feet and glanced at the still-waiting Captain. "Walk with me."
"Yes, Sir."
As they made their way from the darkened room into the corridor beyond, Ollic found his mind wandering in the silence. What could possibly cause the Chiss Ruling Families to request the actual assistance of the Empire? The Ruling Families had permitted the Empire to operate, if only because Thrawn had made a point of staying outside their reach and not interfering in the affairs of the Ascendancy. He had not, however, heard of any cases where the Ruling Families had acknowledged—let alone sanctioned—the existence of the Empire. Therefore, whatever reason they had for calling must have been serious indeed.
The turbolift doors opened in front of them with a quiet hiss, and they stepped inside. As the doors slid shut, Mantrel turned to face Ollic.
"What do you think is the reason for the dispatch?" he asked, almost as if he could tell what the captain was thinking.
"A direct attack on the Ascendancy," Ollic replied without hesitation.
"Explain."
"From what I've learned, they are too insular and proud to request help for any reason other than a crisis that threatens the Ruling Families themselves."
Mantrel nodded almost imperceptibly. "Have you considered the possibility of a coup?"
"Possible but unlikely," Ollic said after a moment's consideration. "Power struggles between the Ruling Families are not unheard of, but given the semi-feudal structure of the government a decapitation strike would be extremely unlikely to succeed."
"Agreed. What possibilities does that leave us with?"
Idly, the captain scratched the stubble on his chin. He would need to shave as soon as he was off duty. "Of the known aggressors in the region, I can think of only two with the power and motivation to pull off such an attack: the Ssi-Ruuvi and the Vagaari."
He could have sworn he saw a glint of amusement cross the Commodore's face. "Which one do you believe to be more likely?"
"The Vagaari," he replied a moment later. "They have not been seen for over fifty years, but once in a while a small colony will either outright disappear, or report a pirate raid consistent with their motives. Unfortunately, we have never managed to collect conclusive proof it was them."
Mantrel nodded. "Why did you immediately discount the Ssi-Ruuvi?"
"As you are well aware, our campaign against the Imperium conducted Base Delta Zero operations against every Ssi-Ruuvi world in the cluster and limited bombardments of their enteched colonies. Our probe droids scouted every system within a thousand light-years of that cluster. Barring a previously unknown power base within the galactic halo, I believe it is safe to say that their species is extinct."
In reality, it had been less a campaign than a fulfillment of the Chiss' promise of genocide against the loathsome saurian species. Ollic had been a lieutenant commander at the time his ship was reassigned to URCOM (Unknown Regions Command). During the conflict, he had rapidly risen through the ranks, eventually landing his command aboard the Magistrate under Commodore Mantrel.
"A sound analysis," Mantrel nodded. "Unfortunately the data included in the dispatch does not fit the Vagaari, or the Ssi-Ruuvi for that matter."
The turbolift doors chose that moment to open, and Ollic began issuing orders as soon as he stepped out on to the bridge. He noted with no small sense of pride the calm, collected professionalism of his bridge crew as they immediately acted upon the orders. When the ship's bosun sounded general quarters moments later, the pace of activity increased in tempo.
After several minutes had passed, he stood in the strategy room, looking across the holotable at the flickering miniature representations of the other commanders in the task force.
"Commanders," Mantrel addressed the gathering. "As you may have concluded from your orders, we are making an emergency flank speed combat jump directly to Csilla, the capital of the Chiss Ascendancy."
He manipulated the holotable and a rough object that looked like a cross between a rock and a mollusk appeared. "None of us have engaged this enemy in combat before, although General Fel's recon squadrons have been tracking their progress through Wild Space and into the New Republic. For reasons unknown to us, the Republic has chosen not to act. We believe this to be a grave error."
The Commodore paused to zoom in on the ship. "While we are unsure of their motives for attacking the Ascendancy, since Mitth'raw'nuruodo first encountered this enemy over sixty years ago we have believed it only to be a matter of time before an attack like this occurred. Much like the Republic, the Ruling Families have remained complacent about this threat, and today it has cost them dearly."
As the strange craft rotated, he pointed at it. "First, from what we can tell, their hulls are composed of mineral deposits, with high concentrations of metals normally seen in durasteel alloys. Despite this, we do not believe it compares to destroyer armor.
"Second, while we have not detected any traditional form of shielding on their ships, weapon fire directed at them has been seen to disappear.
"Similarly," he continued, "General Fel's scouts were unable to discern the method of propulsion. The boffins have theorized it may involve some form of gravitic technology, but for now I suggest we do not jump to conclusions."
His red-eyed gaze swept over the assembled commanders. "We have, however, witnessed the effects of their weaponry. It appears to fall mostly into two categories: short-range, intense plasma bursts of similar firepower to a turbolaser, and longer range molten metal projectiles."
One of the commanders snickered at that, and Mantrel shot him an icy glare. "While I would normally agree that their firepower is laughable, they appear to possess some means of disabling a target's shields from a distance. I cannot stress hard enough that we must not underestimate this enemy."
Straightening up, he paced slowly around the table. "When the Grand Admiral established our Empire here, on the edge of the galaxy, he did so for a purpose. We represent the first line of defense, not only for the Chiss, but for the entire galaxy. We cannot—we must not—fail."
There were murmurs of agreement from the commanders.
"Dismissed."
.
.
Space above Csilla was already quite crowded by the time the task force arrived, not quite an hour later. Debris fields from the ongoing battle were already beginning to elongate, and without intervention would eventually form rings around the planet. Several Star Destroyer sized rock-like ships hung low over the planet in much the same way that rocks don't. One was in a typical low orbit, while the other three were deep in the atmosphere, blasting away at the frozen surface.
Mantrel took one look at the holotank and picked up a comm handset. "All ships, weapons free. Fire at will."
Space lit up as hundreds of turbolaser batteries spread across the dozen-odd ships of the task force opened up. Yet out of the impressive barrage, only a few odd shots actually connected. The rest simply vanished.
"Emperor's black bones," someone in the crew pits murmured. Ollic found himself agreeing with the sentiment, if not the crewman's loss of concentration.
"Focus," he admonished. "Maintain fire. Sooner or later they should be overwhelmed."
Nearly three minutes later, no changes appeared to be forthcoming when one of the Comm-Scan techs spoke up. "Sir, the targets in atmosphere have been losing altitude every since the bombardment began."
Mantrel nodded as it seemed he came to a realization. He grabbed the handset again. "All commands, concentrate fire on target designate Besh."
It took several seconds for the effect of the new orders to be seen, but the lowest of the three rock-ships began losing altitude rapidly as more fire was concentrated on it. Evidently the aggressors had some sense of self-preservation, since the other two ships quickly began clawing their way toward space.
"Maintain fire," Mantrel ordered.
Ollic soon realized the other ships weren't trying to escape—they were trying to save their comrades by interposing themselves in the line of fire. He immediately knew they weren't dealing with pirates or any such disorganized rabble—that was the mark of a professional military force.
"Helm, re-orient starboard 37 degrees, pitch minus 11," he snapped off, an idea suddenly coming to him. "Gunnery, six concussion missiles on target Besh, bracketing pattern, standoff five klicks."
"Missiles ready," the weapons officer reported seconds later.
He waited until the two ships were almost directly in line with the target. "Mark."
As their name implied, concussion missiles achieved most of their damage through the concussive shock waves they produced. In space, proximity detonation of a concussion missile would, at most, briefly bathe the target in ionizing radiation. Most navigational deflectors could handle such radiation with ease, which is why the missiles were designed to penetrate shields before initiating on contact.
In the atmosphere, however, the concussion missile came into its own. At the heart of the warhead was a small amount of hypermatter surrounding a target sphere. To initiate the device, the missile's droid brain sent a small pulse through the hypermatter, destabilizing it and creating an explosion powerful enough to compress the target into a singularity. An almost infinitely small fraction of a second later, the singularity would then evaporate, releasing a blast of energy more powerful than the heaviest turbolaser shot.
Six miniature stars, each hundreds of times brighter than Csilla's own sun, flared to life in the planet's upper atmosphere. The initial pulse converted the thin atmosphere surrounding each device to plasma in an instant, creating rapidly expanding concussion waves that merged together into a flower-like toroidal shape. The hapless rocky craft in its center disappeared in the conflagration, while the two ships that had been trying to save it were caught in the same shockwave moments later, buffeting them up and out of the atmosphere.
When the brightness of the fireballs had died down, Ollic was somewhat surprised to see the target was still in one piece, although even that was debatable as pieces began flaking off of its fractured hull. Smoldering, smoke trailing behind it, it looked almost exactly like a meteor in its free-fall dive toward the planet.
"Launch fighters," Mantrel ordered meanwhile. "Keep their attack craft away from the Defense Force ships."
Moments later, it was over. Between the reinforcements and losing one of his own ships, the enemy commander evidently decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and in a flicker of pseudomotion the three craft were gone. The small craft that had been harrying the CEDF ships likewise vanished into hyperspace only seconds after the destroyers.
"Should we pursue?" Ollic asked.
The Commodore shook his head. "This was a hit and fade strike. The fact that we were able to bring down one of their ships is victory enough."
"What of the wreckage?"
"I will instruct Colonel Sheppard to ready a company to secure the crash site. In the meantime, begin surveying the planet to determine where we should dispatch aid first."
.
.
Little changed in the six hours following the attack. Colonel Sheppard's troops had established a perimeter around the wreckage of the ship, but so far there were no signs of survivors. The CEDF frigates were still licking their wounds, conducting emergency repairs with assistance from his engineers.
Csilla itself remained relatively unscathed, owing to the fact that its major cities were underground. However, a significant amount of its above-ground food production had been destroyed or damaged, along with spaceports and associated surface dwellings. All told, it had been enough to completely overwhelm the medical staff from the fleet, as well as tying up every available freighter within the region to bring food in from the colonies.
"Hyperspace reversion," Comm-Scan reported. "Imperator class. IFF identifies it as the Admonitor." There was a brief pause while the tech checked his console. "Incoming transmission."
Ollic stepped over to the holotable as a quarter height figure appeared. Between the eyepatch and the severe features, there was no way he could have been mistaken.
"General Baron Fel," Ollic said with a salute. "It's been a while."
"Captain Ollic," Fel replied. "Likewise. Since it appears that the Commodore has the situation here well in hand, please inform him that Aristocra Chaf'orm'bintrano has requested his presence. We will be meeting here at 1800 hours. You and any other senior officers are also welcome to attend."
Ollic nodded. "Thank you, Sir. I shall inform him at once."
.
.
They stepped off the shuttle onto Admonitor's deck severla hours later. The old ship—Thrawn's original command—had obviously seen better days, judging by the slightly metallic tang in the air that indicated its atmospheric systems needed maintenance. Other than that, its hangar bay was indistinguishable from the Magistrate's own, which was unsurprising considering that the two ships shared the same Imperator-class block configuration.
Standing at the base of the ramp, where he might have expected to see an honor guard of stormtroopers, was instead a mix of human and Chiss troops in CEDF uniform. Ollic glanced over at the Commodore, but his expression remained impassive. At the head of the honor guard stood General Fel, hands clasped behind his back. Beside him was a Chiss dressed in the formal robes of an aristocrat, who Ollic immediately guessed was Chaf'orm'bintrano.
Mantrel approached first, saluting the General in the normal Imperial fashion. When Fel returned the salute, Ollic's brow furrowed; usually a salute was returned only for officers of equivalent rank. Mantrel then stopped in front of the Aristocra and gave a respectful bow.
After Ollic had greeted them, Fel turned and gestured toward the hangar exit. "After you."
The walk to the conference room, punctuated by two turbolift rides, was about as brief as could be expected on a one and a half kilometer ship. It was also uncomfortably quiet; the silence was only broken by General Fel once they arrived.
"I apologize for keeping you in suspense," he began, "but the magnitude of the topic at hand is not well-suited to informal conversation. You may have already guessed however."
He cleared his throat. "First, I have some bad news to share. Admiral Parck passed away earlier this week. In recognition of his services, the Ruling Families have offered to hold his funeral on Csilla, although it looks as if it may have to be postponed.
"Which brings me to our second topic," and he turned to face Mantrel. "Admiral, you are now the senior ranking naval officer in the Empire. It is my honor to carry out Admiral Parck's request and grant you this rank."
He pulled out a set of rank bars, removed the old one from Mantrel's unform, and attached the new one in its place.
"Our final topic concerns the future of our Empire, of Thrawn's vision and legacy. I believe that Aristocra Formbi will be the best one to explain."
With that, they all took a seat except for the Aristocra.
"Gentlemen," he began in subtly accented Basic. "Although it comes as no surprise to you, Mitth'raw'nuruodo's warning of a dire threat to our civilization has borne true. Over the past month we have seen similar hit and fade attacks on our colonies. While I still believe we must not violate our ideals as a society, a fact that Mitth'raw'nuruodo and I could never agree on, I also believe there is ample room for improvement within the framework of our laws, and the Families agree.
"I came here on behalf of the Council to meet with Admiral Parck about integrating all of you—your "Empire of the Hand"—into our defense forces. As Baron Fel will attest, the Admiral was supportive of the idea, but did not want to force any decision upon his crews. With his untimely demise, I thought it best if we were able to meet before making any final decisions."
With that, he took his seat, glancing around the table. Ollic himself wasn't entirely sure what to make of the news. On the one hand, he had spent almost his entire career fighting to defend the Ascendancy—and the rest of the region—from outside threats. On the other, Chiss society was quite rigid. He wondered how they planned on dealing with the majority of the Empire's human troops if they accepted the offer.
He glanced over at Mantrel, wondering what his commander thought, and was surprised to see what looked like moisture in the corner of his eyes. His normally impassive expression otherwise remained as inscrutable as ever as he cleared his throat.
"I would be honored to rejoin the Defense Force, but there is a question that remains."
Formbi nodded. "Speak freely."
"What is your plan on dealing with the integration of what are essentially two independent command structures?"
"For now, we plan on splitting the Defense Force into different services. Your Navy will form the core of the Defense Force Navy, with the existing command structure remaining unchanged for the time being. You will answer directly to the Syndic of House Nuruodo.
"The role of the current Defense Force fleet will be changed to reconnaissance and patrol under the direction of Baron Fel, who will likewise answer to the Syndic. You may still address him as General, but within that structure he will be referred to with an equivalent rank. We plan on placing your existing starfighter corps within that structure.
"Finally, we will consolidate all ground troops from both the Defense Force and the Empire into the new Defense Force Army. Since that is a lower priority, we have not made any decisions yet on what structure it will follow."
He looked around the table. "Any questions?"
"How long until the integration begins?" Ollic asked.
"The upper command structure changes will take place immediately following the ratification of the new Defense Force charter by the Council. Following that, your crews will be given a two-week period in which to make their decisions."
The room was silent for several moments before Mantrel spoke again. "There may be a slight problem."
Formbi's eyebrows rose slightly, but he said nothing.
"One of our Strike Cruisers is on a long-term reconnaissance mission, and will be out of contact for the foreseeable future. How do you propose we handle cases like that in this transition?"
Ollic noticed Fel's brow crease during the explanation. Updates had obviously not been going both ways, which on its own was not terribly surprising since Mantrel's task force had been posted on the opposite end of the region, operating semi-autonomously for years.
"Clearly, we need to discuss improving communications as we proceed," Formbi remarked wryly. "How far away are they? If they cannot be contacted, we can simply grant them the two week decision period upon their return."
"Perhaps it would be better if I started from the beginning," Mantrel said. "Aristocra, do you remember Outbound Flight?"
Formbi sighed quietly. "All too well. That was the event that made me begin to reconsider our isolationist stance," he admitted.
"In that case, you may be surprised to discover that we found evidence of their survival."
His eyes narrowed to slits. "Where?"
"A new galaxy."
Ollic could almost see the gears turning in the Aristocra's head. "Exactly how long do you believe it will be before your ship returns?"
"They were equipped with roughly three years' worth of supplies," Mantrel offered. "Transit through the anomaly appears to be instantaneous, but we are not sure how long it will be before they locate the final resting place of Outbound Flight."
"I see," Formbi said. "Was there any sign of other life in the galaxy or any threats we should be concerned about?"
"Our initial probes did not find anything immediate," he stated. "Captain Yates will be providing a more complete report upon his return."
"And if he should not?"
"We have measures in place to ensure data is sent in the unlikely event of mission failure," Mantrel said.