How could we prepare for this? Thought Grand Admiral Il-Raz as he looked out the window of the Imperial Palace. How will we manage without Him? It was the question he and his fellow Grand Admirals had gathered to discuss. No, to answer, he corrected himself.

The problem was simply put. How does an Empire survive without an Emperor? By definition it was a contradiction in terms. Palpatine had left no room for his loss. Perhaps it was a sign of his paranoia that the void created by his absence would topple what he had built; meaning, he had left no heirs, no protégées, no family, or regent capable of taking his place.

Militarily speaking, the problem was compounded by a visibly popular revolt. How does the military serve its subjects when they will not serve he who directs it? The evidence clearly supported that the subjects of the Empire regarded recent events as the passing of a cruel tyrant. Even now, Il-Raz could see the rubble that once was a statue of the Emperor surrounded by celebrating Coruskants. For all practical purposes, they could be dancing about Il-Raz's own carcass down there. He never before felt so confused or abandoned in his entire career.

The doors to the room opened, and a man in a white uniform entered. He marched directly to his appropriate chair, and seated himself without ceremony.

"That would be all of us," said Grand Admiral Grunger. With a regal wave of his hand, he motioned for the doors to close so that the meeting could begin in earnest. "What kept you so long Syn?" he demanded of the newcomer.

Grand Admiral Syn rubbed his brow wearily, "Force dispositions are still coming in, Grunger, and we need to know them if we are to proceed."

Grand Admiral Takel seemed annoyed with that defense. "Let Grunger and Batch handle that, Syn. We have a full blown revolt on our hands while you worry about your precious fleet."

Syn seemed unsurprised by this assault on his credibility. "At least I can stay objective while you flaunt your temper, Takel."

Takel looked ready to throw himself at the other man. "We have to have objectives before we array the fleet, you pompous…"

A thin, dry voice cut through the exchange like a blaster bolt, "Enough! Be silent, gentlemen, or resign your commissions right now." The voice belonged to Grand Admiral Grant, a white haired, thin veteran of the Clone Wars. Unlike all the others about the table, he could trace his career back to the Old Republic. He had been involved with Palpatine's ascension to power, and the dissolving of both the Republican and Imperial Senates. By seniority, capability, ruthlessness, and force of will he had survived all that while others about him vanished like so much sand through parted fingers. He had listened to both Obi-Wan Kenobi give the orders of a General, and lived to hear Darth Vader tell of his demise. He had watched the Old Republic crippled by the weight of its own government, and watched the Emperor dismiss it with a single command. He had fought no fewer than three major interstellar wars; no one questioned his authority.

In theory all twelve Grand Admirals were of equal stature and power, in actuality the pecking order was a complex mix of politics, experience, favoritism, and past exploits. To be more concise, the most powerful was whoever was center stage at the moment to Palpatine. Amongst themselves the Grand Admirals played power games constantly, but they were wise enough to recognize ability when they saw it. Grant commanded them all by virtue of his long service to the Emperor, and a particular genius in all matters of strategic importance. If a direction was to be found out of this, he was the one to find it. His position could be usurped at any time, but none at the table saw any wisdom in that. Besides, some of their number was now orbiting the sanctuary moon of a savage planet in scattered, charred pieces. A weak sense of brotherhood had fostered as a result, and brothers look to the eldest for guidance.

"We will conduct this meeting as Grand Admirals or not at all." Grant glared down the table, forcing the others to their seats by sheer force of will. When it was clear that the mood had cooled to his satisfaction, he began the meeting in earnest. "Syn, what can you tell us of the fleet?"

Grand Admiral Syn cast a weary gaze down towards Grant, and leaned heavily back in his chair. "The Death Star, Executor, and dozen or so Imperial class Star Destroyers are all reduced to debris now. Roughly half of the surviving forces are not fit for combat, and all of the surviving forces are scattered completely about the four quadrants. Information is still sketchy, but it looks like a rout any way you display it." Syn gave a heavy sigh and continued. "Panic is spreading through the commands so a more complete and reliable picture probably won't manifest itself for some time yet."

Grand Admiral Takel seized upon the news with seething frustration, "And what of the rebels, Syn? We must meet our threat if it aims itself this way."

Syn's expression actually brightened a bit. The weariness lifted and was replaced by mild curiosity. "Batch?" He asked, "What can you tell us?"

Grand Admiral Batch looked grim; "The good news is that we would appear safe here at Coruscant for the time being. Our spotters report that at least fifteen percent of the Rebel fleet is destroyed. With a beating like that, it might be safe to assume that it will take them some time to mount a new offensive against us."

Batch held up a hand to emphasize his next point. "Strangely, some of their forces left shortly after the battle. It would appear by the size of the group and the trajectory into hyperspace, that a raid or strike on our forces out in the rim might be under way." He brought his hand down and looked searchingly about the table. "A strike at Endor now could crush them with ease." When no one offered forces for such a strike he slammed his fist onto the table. "We can harvest their ships like grain before a massed fleet! Who is holding our reserves?"

Il-Raz spoke up for the first time. "We have no reserves, Batch. We have a rabble of scattered ships, panicked officers, and mobs of shattered commands. To send them into Endor would only deplete our manpower and embolden the Rebels."

"We must act if we are to clear this up!" Batch shot Syn and Il-Raz an angry stare fit for a brawl. "If we stand here and do nothing the Empire, as we know it, will crumble."

Grunger drummed his fingers on the table in frustration. "It may be too late to save all of it, Batch. Perhaps it would be in our best interests to consolidate what we hold in the firmest grasp. Our industry, our holdings, and the most loyal systems could be itemized and protected by the end of the day."

At that moment the door burst open. A reed thin man entered carrying a datapad and a head full of attitude. Grand Moff Pelseron had made it a habit to make dramatic entrances throughout his career, and it had served him well. Never a man at a loss for words, he was one to have the key bits of info at any one time. As a subordinate, he was that officer to tell a superior exactly what they wanted to hear. Even if it were not true he would say it with a strait face, and then pull every string, step on any toe, lie, cheat and steal to make it true. It was widely regarded that those were the qualities that had brought him into favor with the Emperor. If the Emperor wanted to be congratulated on his rise to power, Pelseron was the man he sought out. But despite his groveling nature, he was a master of political intrigue. He had risen to the top upon the backs of discarded careers, and he had enjoyed every bit of it. Everyone knew he was setting his sights on a new challenge by appearing here.

Pelseron surveyed the room with a slow accusing eye. "I am sure that my lack of an invitation was an oversight," he said coldly. "After all the Emperor's personal envoy should be informed of any and all plans that you men are about to make."

For once Takel's temper reflected everyone's feelings on the room. "Outrageous!" he shouted. "The Emperor had no appointed regent in the event of his death."

Pelseron was unruffled by Takel's outburst, and addressed all in a cordial voice. "You are mistaken. The Emperor did in fact appoint me his representative while he was on the Death Star." A wistful smile lit his face for a moment. The trap was half set, and Takel was gleefully springing it in the most dramatic fashion possible. "He told me he would be too busy crushing the rebels to properly govern during his absence. So he delegated state business to my office as soon as he left for Endor."

"Upstart!" Takel exploded. "I'll have your head mounted on the head of my flagship for this intrusion."

"I'm afraid the Moffs would not look too kindly on that, Takel," Pelseron purred. He had added a quiet insult by addressing a Grand Admiral in such an informal way. Only a Grand Admiral could address another by his name, and all others had to observe the official protocols and acknowledge their rank with their name. In a way that was more fitting: these men were more their rank than individuals by now. They were the supreme Imperials amongst Imperials, and Pelseron had dismissed that carelessly away. But his breach of contempt was not over yet; "They have already made me their representative in this counsel."

"And why do we care what the Moffs think?" Grunger asked mildly. "Militarily speaking, we are in no need of a bunch of zealots always demanding a free ride from our fleets." Within that statement laid a very pressing question. When the Emperor had created the title of Moff he had never specified what exactly the title involved. Since the Moffs were all promoted from the Imperial Army, it had been assumed that it was another version of an Army rank used in the Old Republic that the Emperor had wanted to reinstate. But from the start the Moffs could be found in every dark corner of power. And to complicate matters further, the title of Grand Moff was created. These few men would be found performing the roles of Army commanders, regional governors, overall force commanders, and political representatives. Grand Moff Tarkin in particular had done much that had blurred the line that a Moff was not to cross. The first Death Star had been under his control despite the fact that it clearly fell under the control of the Imperial Navy. But it had been Tarkin's project to build it from the start; consequently, the reasoning that he would direct his vision to completion muted many questions. As it turned out, Tarkin would command the Death Star to its demise. He would have not lived much beyond the first Death Star's destruction, so he had played his gamble up to his last living breath. The Grand Admirals had received much favor since Yavin, but the Moffs and Grand Moffs still managed to distance themselves from Tarkin's disaster. In due course, they had blurred the line further to greater fog Papatine's accusations leaving the question unanswered to their own advantage.

Pelseron adopted a look of paternal concern. "How else will you control the governors? I have their support and their complete confidence. Without their support your fleets will be starving, scattered wrecks drifting through the void with mutinous crews."

"So your telling us you've gained control of the Imperial treasury," Grunger growled. "All that can be changed with a single command."

Grant spoke up now, "Admiral, let's not be rash." All faces turned now towards the old Admiral with looks of utter shock. Grant could even see a Stormtrooper craning his helmet into the room. He smiled to himself. It always amused him to stun these youngsters like this. "If the Moffs wish to steer the state, then we are free to take care of the rebels ourselves; therefore I'm sure that the Moffs will not mind if we assume control of their forces."

Pelseron, for his part, did little to indicate the panic he felt. "That would seem a bit drastic, Admiral. I'm sure that the Moffs would be an asset to any operation you may undertake." He spoke as though he were trying to make Grant see a grave error.

"Nonsense, Pelseron, in a crisis like this one, we cannot afford to have our attention divided from our respective tasks. I would welcome the Moffs' and governors' delegating the less pressing matters of policy while we consolidate our strength."

Grunger raised an objection. "You know they would not stop there, Admiral."

"And just where would they go, Grunger? We have control of their forces. That makes a coup impossible for him to mount. Plus, it shortens the chain of command making our actions swifter and firmer. I'm sure he realizes it as well as his colleagues do." Grant spoke as though Pelseron had nothing like a power grab in mind.

Grunger saw at once what Grant had in mind. "Splendid," he beamed a gloating smile Pelseron's way.

Il-Raz, also seeing the wisdom of Grant's reason, started in at once. "Guards, see to it that Grand Moff Pelseron gets a chair."

Pelseron was still looking for a way out of this trap Grant had turned on him when a chair was brought to the table in front of him. "I must…"

"Sit down," Syn cut him off.

"We must continue," chimed in Il-Raz.

"You were saying, Admiral Grunger?" asked Takel.

Grunger waved the doors again closed. "Yes, as I was saying. I believe that we might consider consolidating our assets." He keyed a control and the holoprojectors brought up a map of the Empire. "Some of these systems are clearly under rebel control." He motioned at a few of the stars in the map. "Endor, Sullust, and Mon Cal would appear to be in rebel hands."

Batch pointed out another system on the map. "Coruscant would be a wise system to abandon in the near future."

Pelseron gave a start of surprise, "Preposterous. We are as safe here on Coruscant as we are within a Super Star Destroyer. It would be suicide for the Rebels to attempt an assault here."

Il-Raz spoke up. "Look outside, Pelseron. Those people are celebrating the death of the Emperor, not our ascension to power."

"I have to side with Pelseron on this one, Il-Raz," Grunger said. "I can see no need to abandon Coruscant now. Our subjects will be back at work in the morning regardless of Palpatine's demise. Besides, this is the most heavily defended system in the Core worlds," he turned to Batch. "What makes you think we should abandon this stronghold?"

Batch thoughtfully continued on as he explained his plan. "If we abandon this world, we can lull the rebel high command into thinking that they have utterly shattered our resolve. Consequently, we would promote the kind of overconfidence we could exploit to our advantage." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "Also we could lure the Rebel Alliance leadership here under our closest scrutiny. You all know of the counterintelligence apparatus we have in place on this world. We could set it against the rebels with deadly force; therefore, they would not be able to make a single move without our knowledge."

"A well conceived plan," Il-Raz said.

Grunger was clearly uneasy. "A trifle risky, Batch." His brow furrowed in concentration. "How would we dislodge the rebels once they seated themselves here? With the kind of firepower stationed here, we would be hard pressed to mount a successful assault."

Syn appeared impatient, "We can bring superior forces here, Grunger. So long as I have a target to array my forces at, I can overcome it. Even Coruscant's massed defenses can be overcome by systematic consideration."

Takel glared at Syn, "And what would be the cost of that kind of endeavor, Syn. It would use up half the fleet and raze the planet."

"Perhaps you are clumsy enough to be so destructive, but I can assure you that I could take back the planet without so much as damaging the architecture," Syn replied.

"Of all the arrogant…" Takel hissed.

"Gentlemen!" Pelseron barked. "This is nonproductive and immature. We must not turn against each other at this most critical hour." He looked to Grant for support and found an approving smile drifting down the table. Emboldened he went on, "Abandoning Coruscant would also send a message to our own subjects that we are on the run. I think you all will agree with me that such sentiments we would wish to avoid." There were nods of agreement around the room. "Therefore, a show of strength would prove who is really in charge in the Galaxy. The assassination of our Emperor is a great political windfall for the rebellion, but it need not be a fatal one for the Empire itself. In time a new Emperor will reveal himself after the rebellion is crushed and we are able to appoint one."

"A new Emperor?" Il-Raz asked dazedly. The possibility had not occurred to him. "But that would constitute a new Empire without ties to the bloodline after our tenure of regency."

Takel seemed intrigued by the notion. "Perhaps we could change our doctrine to improve our clout among the systems. A more benevolent Empire our subjects would be less likely to take up arms against."

"I agree," Syn said. "Policy must change to seduce the systems back into the fold of Imperial control."

For once Takel did not fume in response to Syn's comments. But Pelseron did. "A supplicating, groveling Empire would only be a show of our weakness in the face of these insurgent criminals. And I can see no way to remove marshal law when we are clearly in a state of crisis. We must keep the systems in fear of us like the Tarkin doctrine has directed." He regarded the Grand Admirals in clear disbelief. "Surely you can see that we would in effect reward our subjects for the death of one Emperor by kowtowing to their desires."

Syn tried another tact, "If His subjects would have loved Palpatine they wouldn't have assassinated Him, Pelseron."

"Then you would dismantle the Emperor's New Order in favor of the chaos that the Old Republic supported," Pelseron shot back. "You would see the Galaxy crippled by bureaucrats and gridlock." He adopted a look of horror as he continued, "I cannot accept that the Empire should in any fashion be remolded to the demands of terrorists and naïve idealists. I will not command the state to initiate any such policies. And I must admit that there mere suggestion to be treasonous to my own knowledge."

"Treason is relative to the circumstances, Pelseron," said Grunger with a dismissive gesture. "As a student of all monarchies, I can tell you that any of us violate our oaths of fealty by simple gestures of life several times over before we die." He directed his attention towards Grant, "You can appreciate the truth of that can't you, Admiral?"

Without flinching Grant replied, "Absolutely, Grunger. We must be mature in our attitudes towards duty. Our responsibilities do allow us that kind of freedom now that a crisis confronts us. Certainly the Emperor's own example could be a testament to that." He referred of Palpatine's own path to power. Certainly by Old Republic standards, the Emperor was anything but a patriot to his original office of Republican Senator. It had been his job to preserve the Old Republic and protect the rights of its citizens. Instead he had seized all power in ways he had justified by the very standards he was sworn to oppose.

Pelseron looked even more shocked than before, "Then you support wrecking the system to suit the situation?"

Grant looked blandly at the younger man. "You have demanded control of policy, Pelseron, and you shall have it. However, if you ignore our input, you will fragment the Empire from within the hierarchy. I will not allow you to dismember this council, nor will I allow you to install yourself as a new Emperor. Governors and Moffs aside, I control the Fleet, Army, and Stormtrooper corps. So if it ever comes to threats, my bag of tricks is far more credible. My fellow Grand Admirals and I will remove any who do not support us." He smiled in a satisfied way as he pronounced his last, "And unlike your station, I have clear authority to do so."

Pelseron frowned. Grant had just smashed any ambitions he would ever have. He was to remain in an office without power, and fight over the traces left after the Grand Admirals had divvied up the source. His hope of Emperor was far fetched he knew, but he had hoped to be in charge. Grant had maneuvered him into a powerful trap, and he was now hopelessly inside of it. The crafty side of his mind, however, still insisted there was a way out of this. "I will not enforce any doctrine I don't endorse," he said firmly.

Grant was silent. So it was Grunger who spoke for the council, "We would not have it any other way, Pelseron. But you have to listen to what we have to say, or we cannot support you either."

Silence weighed heavily throughout the room for a few tense moments until Il-Raz decided to return to the business at hand. "Strategy, Grant. We are groping in the dark without a direction to pursue."

Grant closed his eyes and furrowed his brow on concentration. Without opening his eyes he asked, "Where are they receiving their supplies?"

"From every system in some fashion or another," Batch replied. "Token amounts that add up after they are gathered."

"Impossible to interdict without flawless intelligence," Takel commented.

"Those X-wings they use against us," Grunger murmured, "they have to come from somewhere. The same is true for all their fighter types and their capitol ships."

"Mon Cal could be garrisoned and the corporations that produce the fighter types seized and shut down," Il-Raz offered.

"Batch," Grant said, "see to it that Incom, Slayn and Korpil, Blissex, and Koesayr are shut down and the Mon Calimari shipyards garrisoned. Also follow the shipping rout to where the rebels receive their goods." He shifted in his seat and opened his eyes. "Takel, take a fleet to Endor and try to engage the rebel fleet again; we may be able to wear them down by sheer force of numbers. Grunger, search for any place they may run to, and be waiting for them to arrive. Pelseron, the rebels are getting money and political support from somewhere, shut it all off. I want these rebels running, scared, undersupplied, harassed at every turn, and without a credit among them. And I want the pressure to stay on until they implode. Are we in agreement?" The men nodded their agreement and left the room.

Il-Raz was about to leave when Grant caught Syn and him before they went out the door. "Batch asked a question you deflected before it could be answered, Il-Raz."

Il-Raz was confused, "Which one would that be, Grant?"

Syn at once seized upon Grant's train of thought, "Who holds our reserves?"

"Exactly," Grant confirmed. "I'm asking you now, Admiral, why did you deflect a solid answer?"

Il-Raz was a little annoyed, "Are you accusing me of plotting against the council, Grant?" His brow furrowed in rage. In his entire career he had never had his loyalty questioned, and it made little sense to start now. Accusations had a way of dismantling personal credibility more effectively than actual guilt.

"In private, yes," Grant replied. "Syn can serve as a discreet witness to what follows."

Furious, Il-Raz spoke. "If memory serves me, I sought to make a point about how the fleet must be considered. Reserves or not, we command a mob not fleets."

"Syn, his answer satisfies me, but does he convince you?" Grant said.

Syn gave a rare display of thoughtful consideration before his expression descended back into action. "I have known Il-Raz his entire career, Grant, as a superior and as a fellow Grand Admiral. And in all that time, he was the first to point out the facts and never obscured reality. I can detect nothing about him that could have changed that."

Grant smiled, "Well spoken, Admiral." He turned to Il-Raz, "I withdraw the accusation. Let it never leave this room."

Grant motioned the two Admirals back to their seats. "I have reports that a member of the council is seizing the Emperor's assets here on Coruscant. Maybe more now that Pelseron has dragged the Moffs into the arena."

"Who?" asked Il-Raz.

"Why, Grand Admiral Grunger of course," replied Grant. "You noticed that he was against abandoning this place. You can now see that he has the most to lose." The old admiral smiled impishly. "At this point the only real danger from his activities is the obvious sway they hold on his judgment."

Syn instantly reverted to role of administrator, "If he is so worried about his assets here on Coruscant, then the best way to use him is to have him defend the system personally."

Il-Raz could see the sense in Syn's reasoning, but still felt a twinge of reservation. "I'm sure he would defend Coruscant brilliantly, Admiral, but what would stop him from seizing more of the Emperor's assets."

Grant waved a dismissive hand, "His greed is immaterial to his judgment, Il-Raz. As far as I'm concerned he can move into the Imperial palace, so long as he fulfills his duties."

There was much food for thought on that point. The personal fortune of the Emperor could scarcely be measured. It was not infinite, but it was so large that the Minister of the Treasury often joked that he could see where infinity started from atop the final figure. Therefore, embezzling even huge sums could scarcely make any difference to the total sum. But if Grunger put his agenda above the Empire's…

"Is his judgment impaired?" Il-Raz felt critically uninformed now, the sensation was altogether unpleasant. Being behind on information, be it gossip or otherwise, was often fatal in his position. His entire career could link his success to knowing the information before he entered any room; therefore, the utter shock of Grunger's activities severely rattled the Grand Admiral right down to the marrow.

Syn wearily rubbed his brow. "If Grunger feels he needs the trappings of Imperial luxury to perform his duties, then I say let him have whatever he wants. He can have the reserves. He is only undermining his position in the council by carving out a hole for himself. My work is fleet bound."

"So he does have our reserves," Grant said.

"Certainly,"Syn responded, "He's systematically arrayed them about the Deep Core."