Chapter 9

Lieutenant General Merdon Voss was deep in thought, and for once his message inbox didn't demand immediate attention; not that his inbox wasn't always full – it was. As with any other General Officer, Voss was usually referred to simply by the rank of General. And much as any other officer who had survived more than 30 standard years of military service, General Voss had sufficient foresight to determine what was and what wasn't important enough to warrant his immediate attention.

Thankfully, Lieutenant Colonel Meridian was a competent aide and was also a consummate screener of message traffic. Glancing sidelong toward his monitor, General Voss saw only two color-coded messages warranting attention that his able aide felt unable to dispatch at his own level. Voss knew what one of the messages would bring to his attention, for the sender was all too familiar. He shook his head with a wry sadness that bespoke his experience.

As a young officer, Voss hadn't been forced to deal with people like this. Sure, the occasional senator would require attention or a briefing, but not individuals like this. The crimson coded message glared from the monitor like a grimace. Only one color was given a higher status, and that was reserved for the emperor himself. Of course, the emperor would hardly stoop to acknowledge the Imperial Chief of Intelligence, but his personal secretaries all but spoke for him. No, the message with this particular special color represented that of one of the Emperor's Hands.

As a young captain, Voss had been on Coruscant during the Clone Wars, and he recalled the treason of the Jedi that had nearly cost the emperor his life. Of course, Voss knew much more now than he had known as a captain assigned but to one of many joint intelligence centers at that time, but what he now knew of that sordid affair he was smart enough to keep to himself.

Imperial Center was now the name of this planet, and the republic into which Voss had been commissioned as a young officer was now a galactic empire on a scale before unimaginable. Like many others, Voss still referred to the planet as Coruscant. No race had been able to stand before the might of the Galactic Empire, and rebel elements offered only token resistance. Still, something ate at Voss' mind, and that pulsating crimson message was sure to address that concern.

The Sol system, along with its seemingly insignificant population was a terrific puzzle. Voss knew that the Imperial fleet had discovered some sort of portal to another galaxy nearly thirteen years ago. He knew also that the scout ships that explored that galaxy had found it devoid of life – a completely dead galaxy. Moreover, most planetary systems found within were devoid of nearly anything of economic value.

Imperial scouts had explored that galaxy for nearly a decade and had all but abandoned it, and Voss was certain they would have if not for the inexplicable insistence by the emperor to continue the effort. The Grand Moffs and Grand Admirals who ran the Joint Staff had certainly shaken their heads in bewilderment at such insistence, and they had certainly scaled down reconnaissance efforts to the minimum acceptable effort. Only by happenstance did a probe pick up ancient radio signals while on one of the spirals of that galaxy. At first they had believed it to be nothing more than background noise from any number of natural events that dotted the cosmos.

And yet there, in the midst of what was certainly an entire galaxy of dead star systems devoid of even the most crude life forms was a jewel almost perfect for sustaining all kinds of life. That was a little less than five years ago, and the buzz that surrounded the discovery was unreal. One would have thought that the Empire had discovered a vast array of populated star systems ripe for the taking, and yet there was just the one.

The early spies sent to Sol encountered little trouble blending in with the population, which was human. Voss still scratched his head over that strange discovery. The DNA of the inhabitants of Sol could have been an exact duplicate of the humans in the Galactic Empire. Of special note to Voss and the task force assigned to studying Sol was the fact that the planet was nearly always in a state of war with itself to some degree or another. When they first embedded personnel on Sol, one of its empires was in its final death throes, and the other was awash in seemingly unexpected victory. The inhabitants had termed it a, "cold war."

A great many religions on the planet served to keep the various cultural groups split apart and at each others' throats. Even so, the remaining empire, calling itself the "United States," appeared bent on spreading its influence over the globe and establishing at least an economic global order.

For five years, Imperial agents had infiltrated the United States at nearly every level, and they had also penetrated many of the lesser governments. So when the time to strike finally arrived, the fall of the planet was swift and nearly bloodless, at least by Imperial terms. Voss knew that some elements in the military had pushed for an immediate invasion upon discovery of Sol, but higher-ranking individuals made the case for patience. The people of the planet had barely toyed with space travel and had not even managed to establish a manned outpost even within their own planetary system. While the planet was peppered with thousands of orbiting satellites, with the exception of a very few they were all oriented toward Sol itself.

Voss wrinkled his heavy brows. Why would only one inhabited planet be ensconced deeply and almost undetectably in an otherwise dead galaxy? It didn't make sense. Sol was too perfectly placed in a too perfect solar system, almost as though it was set up that way on purpose. Voss knew some of the theories that were percolating throughout Imperial academia. Some maintained that an ancient race had planted the system in secret millennia before, in order to hide it. Others maintained that it was an ancient colony long ago cut off from the rest of civilization. Still others maintained that life on the planet evolved that way, though that didn't explain how humans were there. Voss pursed his lips – all of that was for academics, scholars and scientists to puzzle over.

For Voss were the other mysterious matters at hand. He knew what had happened that sent shock waves through Imperial High Command. Of course, those shock waves were undetected by the populace of the Empire, but Voss was deeply enough entrenched into the inner workings of the Empire not to be informed of matters warranting attention.

Lord Vader had been dispatched to Sol by the emperor, but he never made it. From what Voss had been able to gather through his sources, Vader had collapsed when his ship entered into the dead galaxy. Medical droids had barely been able to keep him alive before the commander ordered the ship back into the home galaxy. Once the ship returned, Vader had mysteriously regained his usual vigor and focus, most unexpectedly. It was almost impossible for Voss to picture that black monstrosity in a weakened and helpless state, but his sources were rarely amiss. Then there were the men who had joined the ranks of the Empire and now served in this galaxy.

No more than a handful of those men concerned Voss, but a few had served as officers of Sol's empire, the United States. Voss knew enough that the indoctrination of and loyalty of those officers to their empire was relatively strong, and alarms were sounded when they seemed to readily drop such allegiance and choose to serve in Imperial ranks.

Of further note was the fact that no such officer had held the rank of lieutenant colonel or its equivalent, or above. Many of them had been considered junior officers in their own military structure. Voss knew that the emperor had summoned at least one of those officers before him. Apparently that meeting had unsettled Vader, who was present at the time, as he was noted storming from the palace in agitation afterward. Not that seeing Vader storming about angrily was uncommon, but even menacing beings like him set certain patterns, and it was uncommon for him to appear so agitated when leaving the presence of the emperor. Patterns – yes, that was what Voss now returned his thoughts to.

One of the young officers had joined the Imperial Navy as an intelligence analyst, and he was now serving on a dreadnaught. Voss had assigned the tracking of all newly assigned military members from Sol to one of his task forces, but this particular young man's name had popped up more than once. Voss knew that the rebels were trying to gain contact with him, and his agents were fairly certain he was in contact with members of his former command back on Sol. He wasn't certain of what the young man was attempting to accomplish though, and so far as he could ascertain, the young man was serving well aboard his ship. At least one of his agents had posed as a rebel in an attempt to incite him to treason, but he hadn't taken the bait. Yost was the man's name, and he had attempted to share some information he thought would be valuable with one of the ship's intelligence officers. He was predictably rebuffed. Rarely were promising intelligence officers assigned to minor capital ships.

Voss touched an area of the monitor and slid his finger across it. A photo of Yost smiled out at him, and even from the image the eyes sparkled with intelligence. Voss leaned forward, gazing into the young man's face. Meanwhile the crimson message alert off to the corner of the monitor failed to disappear – Voss would have to deal with it soon. For now though, he shrugged it away – the Hand could wait a little while. He leaned down toward a speaker on his desk and flipped a switch.

"Colonel Meridian."

"Yes sir?" returned the disembodied voice.

"Where is Yost right now?" Voss returned. He waited perhaps ten seconds.

"Sir, he's on shore leave. The Dominion is in orbit over Tatooine. They're scheduled to continue their patrol in approximately sixteen hours."

Voss smiled. That was yet another reason to like Meridian; he was a good aide who constantly tracked what his boss needed, knowing the answer nearly always before the question was asked. He stared back at the image of Yost, his hand still poised over the switch.

"Contact the captain of the Dominion. I want Yost transferred to Coruscant."

The pause on the other end made Voss smile yet again. For all his talent, some things Voss said still took his aide off guard.

"Yes sir. I'll get the orders cut. Anything else, sir?"

"No, Colonel. That will do. I will want to debrief Yost shortly after he arrives."

Voss flipped the switch before waiting for his aide to reply. He looked into the face of the image of Yost once again. Yost had been adamant that he could offer insight into how the rebels worked, where they would strike, and even a reasonable approximation of when they would strike using some of his own military's analysis tools.

One idiotic ship's intelligence officer's opinion aside, Voss aimed to see if he could garner something useful from this young former officer from Sol. He allowed himself a half smile and motioned away the image of the young man.

The message in red all but demanded his attention, so Voss dutifully opened it to see what was so important to this particular Emperor's Hand.