Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, it is owned by Disney.

Shadows Rising

Chapter 1

Firmus Piett was a man on a mission. It wasn't a particularly important mission, at least not when it came to the Empire's wellbeing. Indeed, it was more of a personal matter…to an extent. After all, it would not do for an officer of his rank to not have a flagship of his own.

Born on the Outer Rim, Piett had entered the Naval Academy in the Quelii Sector, and would receive his commission as a naval officer shortly before the end of the Clone Wars. He proceeded to distinguish himself in service pacifying unlawful elements – pirates, slavers, smugglers, and the like – and drawing the attention of the local Moff, and ultimately the Sith Lord Darth Vader himself.

Eventually, the latter would lead to Piett being given command of the Star Destroyer Accuser, one of the ships under the Sith Lord's overall command. Eventually, he would be transferred, receiving command of the Star Dreadnought Executor, Lord Vader's own flagship. And ultimately, following the…summary, execution of Admiral Ozzel for gross incompetence, Piett found himself joining the ranks of the Admiralty.

It was…a somewhat, hair-raising promotion, with the sight of his predecessor's cooling corpse on the floor haunting the newly-promoted admiral for some time. That said, he quickly adapted to the responsibilities of his post, and certainly managed to avoid incurring Lord Vader's displeasure in the years leading up to the Raid on Imperial Center.

That was also a…rather hair-raising time for the admiral, as it had him somehow falling under the spotlight of the Imperial Security Bureau (ISB), when his superior had been suspected by the Emperor himself of plotting against him. It turned out though, that such had been part of the rebels' plot, to draw attention away from them, and ultimately to draw Lord Vader himself away as well, away from Imperial Center for when the rebels struck at the Emperor.

Piett had ultimately gazed down on Imperial Center from the Executor's bridge when Lord Vader had seen through the rebels' scheme, and had returned against the Emperor's own orders to prevent them from succeeding. He had failed though, as by the time the fighting was over, a large portion of the Imperial leadership had been slain by the rebels: The Ubiqtorate, the upper echelon of the ISB, many other Imperial advisers and high officials, and ultimately even the Emperor himself.

The rebels had paid dearly with their lives, and Lord Vader along with his apprentice Darth Invictus were quick to restore order on Imperial Center, and with the assistance of Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik, key sectors of the Core Systems. It was this demonstration of Darth Vader's leadership talent – if it hadn't been proven in the past already – in a crisis that would lead the reconvened Imperial Senate to name him the next Emperor of the Galactic Empire.

Privately, Piett had his suspicions that there were more to those momentous events than what met the eye. He was wise to keep his suspicions to himself though, and in any case it wasn't as though the new Emperor was unworthy of his loyalty. After all, after the…disruptions, that came with the succession, disruptions that Piett had served with distinction in putting down, Piett found himself promoted to the rank of Grand Admiral.

And even setting Piett's personal advancement aside, there was no other man in the entire galaxy who could command the loyalty of enough of the officer corps, and virtually the entirety of the Stormtrooper Corps, and with them have the military strength to keep the Empire together in the wake of the former Emperor's death. Lord Vader also had proven leadership long before and during the succession crisis, and Piett thus saw no reason not to support Lord Vader's claim to power.

With all that, there was no meaning to his or indeed, others' suspicions, and that was the end of the matter.

Grand Admiral Piett now stood in a Lambda Class Shuttle's cockpit, behind the pilot and copilot. "Pilot, take the scenic route." He ordered. "I want to see my ship."

"Yes, sir."

The pilot adjusted his course, and responded to a query from dock control with regard to his deviation from course. "Grand Admiral's orders." The pilot said into his mouthpiece, and after a few more moments of conversation dock control fell silent.

Piett cared nothing for that. He kept his eyes on his ship, on her sleek and powerful lines, and at the cityscape-like array of batteries, shield generators, sensor towers, and the like running along the centerline of the dorsal hull.

Part of the refit involved completely replacing his ship's armor scheme, the replacement incorporating an improved alloy developed and produced by Kuat Drive Yards' metallurgical subsidiaries. According to the data, the new alloy could provide armored protection equal to the previous alloy used, but for only a third of the weight.

There had been some skepticism at such a claim, but when Lord Vader – or rather Emperor Vader – had personally reviewed the data and inspected production facilities and questioned the technicians and engineers involved, such skepticism faded away. Had the claims been fabricated or exaggerated in any way, there would have been plenty of fatalities. As there had been none, then Kuat Drive Yards (KDY) was clearly telling the truth on their new development.

The shuttle flew past the ship's stern, and then gracefully turning dropped altitude, passing by and across the ship's primary engines. The engines had also been replaced in the refit, as were the ship's maneuvering thrusters, reactors, and electricals. The latter were only a matter of course, given the new propulsion systems had an increased draw on power, for all that they did not require any more or less space than the previous system used. The hull also needed additional reinforcement, to keep up with the thirty per cent increase in thrust and maneuvering capability that the new systems provided.

Together with the new armor scheme, the increased reinforcement would greatly improve the flagship's durability.

The shuttle flew sedately along the ventral hull, which as before the refit largely unadorned. Most of the ship's guns and other externalities were located on the dorsal hull, though the ventral hull did sport a number of gun batteries of its own. It was something the rebels had taken advantage of in the past, requiring large numbers of fighters to cover the exposed underbelly of the ship.

Still…the improved armor and hull reinforcement would certainly reduce that vulnerability. That, and the new targeting software developed by KDY's electronics subsidiary, which would give Piett's flagship, and other ships which underwent similar refits in the future, targeting capability rivaling that of dedicated screens like the Lancer Class Frigate, or the CR90 Corellian Corvette favored by the rebels and (legitimate) private security forces.

That is not to say that screens would be going out of fashion anytime soon, but capital ships would certainly be less vulnerable on their own, once the new targeting software began to be disseminated across the fleet.

Approaching one of the ventral hangar bays, the shuttle serenely slowed to a halt before ascending through the opening, its wings folding up to their rest position. Gliding forward on repulsorlifts, the shuttle landed with a soft thud some distance from the opening. "We have landed, sir." The pilot said.

"Noted." The Grand Admiral said, already leaving the cockpit.

A double file of Stormtroopers and staff officers greeted Piett's disembarking on his flagship, the Grand Admiral greeting them with a salute as he stepped past. Pausing as he reached the end of the line, he gestured the honor guard dismissed, and accompanied by his staff officers crossed the hangar to a series of TIE Interceptors being worked on.

Technicians and pilots alike stood to attention at the Grand Admiral's arrival, Piett gesturing them to stand easy in a moment. Staring up at the TIE Interceptors, Piett then turned to the squadron commander. "Your name, young man?" he asked.

"Captain Kamari Bright, sir!" the man said with a salute.

Piett returned the salute and then gestured at the interceptors. "These are all new models, aren't they?" he asked.

"Yes sir." The captain said. "Though apart from deflector shields and necessary adjustments for those, there's not much different from older interceptor models."

"Hmm…" Piett hummed in response.

TIE Interceptors had long been slated to fully replace the TIE Fighter, but the sheer number of the latter in service meant it was taking longer than expected to do so. And what's more, after recent developments in the Unknown Regions, the Admiralty had finally decided to follow Grand Admiral Thrawn's example, that of equipping their TIE Interceptors with deflector shields, where once they would have relied only on their mobility and light armor for protection.

That would further delay replacement of the TIE Fighter with the TIE Interceptor, not that Piett had any real problem with the idea of equipping the TIE Interceptor with deflector shields. It would certainly sharpen the edge it already had against most rebel fighters, and would be very helpful against…them.

Piett suppressed a shudder at the thought of the true enemy, known only to the very highest echelons of Imperial power. Even the rebels were but a side show compared to them, and indeed, the Force or the gods or any benevolent supernatural being help the galaxy if the rebels somehow succeeded in turning back the clock to return to the undisciplined, pacifist, corrupt and disorderly days of the Old Republic.

"Perhaps captain," Piett forced himself to say. "But just having shields alone would be a significant boost to our capabilities. Especially since our ship's entire complement of fighters is now composed of TIE Interceptors."

"As you say, sir." The man said with a grin. "The rebel scum won't know what hit them."

Piett allowed himself a smile and a nod at the pilot's confidence. "Indeed," Piett said. "Carry on."

"Yes, sir!"

The man and his subordinates saluted, and returning the salute Piett strode away followed by his staff officers. "I want to visit engineering before heading up to the bridge." He said.

"Yes, sir."

Piett strode down the bridge's command aisle, past crew pits where junior officers, petty officers, and crew busied themselves at their stations. The inspection of engineering had gone well, random questioning of the crew clearly indicating they knew what they were doing, and in many cases had plenty of experience under their belts. The Chief Engineer in particular, was somewhat older than Piett (though not so much that he was worried), with years of service going back to the Clone Wars, having started out as a lowly reactor technician aboard a Venator Class Star Destroyer and working his way up the ranks to become chief engineer aboard a Star Dreadnought.

That same Star Dreadnought's captain greeted Piett with a salute as the Grand Admiral approached, Piett nodding once at the man before walking past to stand in front of the bridge windows. For several moments, Piett just stared out into space in silence, and then reaching forward patted the transparisteel windows with veiled affection.

"You've been cooped up for years, haven't you, old girl?" Piett whispered. "Don't worry, you'll be back where you belong in just a bit."

Smiling and briefly closing his eyes, Piett turned to glance at his flagship's captain. "Take us out of dock, captain." He ordered.

"Yes, sir." The captain said before turning to address the bridge. "All hands, commence launch procedures."

"Aye, aye, sir." A young woman in a lieutenant's uniform said over at the communications section. Pressing a finger against her comlink, she opened a line to dock control. "Dock Control, this Delta One. Request permission to launch."

"Delta One," Dock Control responded. "You are clear for launch."

"Roger, Dock Control." the lieutenant said before addressing the captain. "We are clear to launch."

"Helm, take us out of the dock." The captain ordered. "Maneuvering thrusters only, but standby on main engines, one quarter ahead once we're clear."

"Aye, sir." Helm responded. As controls were adjusted, the mighty engines to the rear of the Star Dreadnought roared to life, glowing plasma flaring out into space as they entered into standby mode. Across the ship crew proceeded with their duties, engineering in particular keeping a close eye on technical displays as they managed the performance of the ship's new propulsion and power systems.

"Grand Admiral," the captain said, turning back to Piett. "I'd be honored if you gave the word."

Piett stared at the younger man for a few moments before nodding, and then turned to face the whole bridge. "Name ship of the Executor Class," he said. "Executor, on sortie."

Across the docks, eyes turned to the mighty Star Dreadnought, first of her class, as she began to slide out of the dock. Floodlights shone down on sleek lines and the glittering cityscape of the dagger-like vessel, maneuvering thrusters flaring in smooth succession as they gently nudged her out into space. The shadows of the dock gave way to the brilliant glow of the planet below, illuminating the Executor in all her glory as she emerged once more into open space. Primary engines bloomed with plasma as they took over the task of driving the mighty Star Dreadnought through space, the great ship turning with unexpected grace as she broke orbit and headed out to rejoin the fleet.

Lightsabers crackled and hummed as they clashed with each other, a young man in black fatigues crossing blades with a similarly-dressed pair of young women with elfin features. Ben Solo or as he was once known 'Kylo Ren' swung his lightsaber in great crimson arcs, powerful blows crashing like hammers against the lightsabers of Inquisitors Tael and Mael, the Sephi parrying Ben's blows and striking back whenever the opportunity presented itself.

The match was at a stalemate: Ben was faster and stronger than the two Sephi, but the twin inquisitors were abusing the hell out of their Force Bond as much as it was worth. When one went high, the other went low. When one blocked, the other counterattacked. It was taking all of Ben's effort to near-simultaneously attack and defend, and even then the result was stalemate.

It was incredibly frustrating…and also very satisfying.

Frustrating, that a pair of mere inquisitors were able to stalemate him. Satisfying, because he knew that his potential was far greater than theirs, and if this was his current limit, then if he defeated them, then he would have surpassed that limit.

One more step…one more step, to achieving his ultimate goal of becoming one of the Lords of the Sith.

Snoke…Supreme Leader…I don't need you anymore. But perhaps we will see each other again…before I drive my saber through your heart.

Grunting with exertion, Ben quickly switched to a one-handed grip, crossing his arms to brace the other while blocking a two-handed blow. The other inquisitor swung at Ben…

…and was sent flying by a powerful telekinetic blast from Ben's free hand. "Mael!" Tael shouted in alarm.

"Don't get distracted!" Ben snarled, pushing the inquisitor back before launching a ferocious counterattack. Part of his training involved drilling in the first six styles (the seventh, Juyo, would be taught by Lady Invictus when – if – Ben rose to become a Sith) of lightsaber combat, but while Ben found himself with an aptitude for them all, he favored the fifth. Djem So. The Way of the Krayt Dragon. The Perseverance Form.

Feeding off his rage, Ben's power swelled in the Dark Side of the Force, hammering at Tael with powerful blows that steadily drove the inquisitor back. Each blow came faster and stronger, the inquisitor's guard increasingly sloppy and desperate…

…the snap-hiss of a lightsaber coming to life warned Ben, along with the whispered warnings from the Force. Ducking down, he narrowly avoided a diagonal swing, and kicked out a Force-powered kick that again, sent Mael flying.

More whispered warnings echoed from the Force, and Ben cursed as he sloppily blocked a counterattack from Tael. Giving way a few steps, he allowed the inquisitor to regain the initiative, before locking blades and throwing her back.

Mael came in before he could take the initiative, Ben blocking several blows before jumping back yet again as Tael charged in with a swing. Falling to one knee, Ben roared while slamming a fist into the ground, the entire room shaking from the impact and staggering the inquisitors.

Stone cracked as Ben kicked off in a crouch, like a sprinter, closing the distance in the blink of an eye, his lightsaber rising up in a glowing arc. The twins, caught off balance and off guard, were forced to give way, Ben keeping up the pressure and hammering at his opponents with powerful overhead blows and two-handed diagonal swings.

Desperation showed on the twins' faces as they sloppily tried to keep back the ferocious onslaught, and then turned to determination. In the blink of an eye strength returned to their arms, lightsabers no longer wavering with every blow from Ben. He still had the initiative, but the twins were finally able to regain their footing, and seemingly restoring the stalemate from earlier.

Ben snarled in frustration, bringing down his lightsaber in a two-handed blow which the twins caught in a cross between their lightsabers. For a long moment, the three blades crackled against each other, and with a brutal motion, Ben knocked the lightsabers from their hands and sent them flying to one side…

…and then he himself was sent flying by a powerful telekinetic shove from the twins, across the practice grounds, to slam against the far wall with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs. As he staggered forward, Ben shook his head to clear it, and then with a gasp he looked to see the twins leaping through the air, lightsabers recovered and ablaze.

An attempt to bring his lightsaber up was aborted, Tael landing to one side and forcing Ben's lightsaber down and away. Mael landed to Ben's other side, lightsaber arcing at his throat in the blink of an eye…only to stop barely an inch away.

"You lose." The twins chorused.

For several moments there was silence, Ben fuming and grinding at his teeth. "What's the score?" he finally ground out.

"Eight-three," Mael answered. "In our favor, of course."

"Draws don't count." Tael added.

The twins stepped back, keeping their lightsabers ignited but held in a low, relaxed stance. Ben stood where he was, seething and fuming, but instead of lashing out as he once might have, he simply roared in frustration after a few moments and switched his lightsaber off.

"One of these days," he seethed, pointing at the twins. "I am going to end that lead of years, and then I am going to kick your asses."

"Yes, I'm sure you will." Tael said with a grin.

"Though," Mael said with a seductive pose. "I think we'll enjoy our asses getting slapped over having them getting kicked, if you get what I mean."

Ben just growled and ran a hand through his hair, and with a laugh the twins deactivated their sabers as well. "Come on Solo," Tael said. "Let's get something to eat. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

Ben grunted as he fell in with the twins. "Any news I should know about?" he asked.

"I don't know." Tael said with a shrug. "Go watch the Holonet, I'm sure you have a connection in your room."

"News on the Holonet isn't everything."

"Ah," Tael said with a nod. "I see what you mean. Then no, we have nothing new on the Rebellion…yet. I'm sure that bunch will stir something up soon enough though."

"Or the Knights of Ren, and the First Order for that matter."

Two pairs of golden eyes regarded Ben coolly, but Ben just looked deadpan. "I don't care about them anymore," he said, his own irises dull gold instead of burning as they were earlier. "Well, not really…I wouldn't mind if…Lady Invictus, or His Majesty eventually gave me a chance to tie up loose ends. Assuming they're still around when I finish training, of course."

Of all that he had achieved ever since he'd been taken in by the Inquisitorius, the proudest Ben had was finally having his eyes marked by the Dark Side of the Force. Invictus had surprised him that night, asking him to meet her at the upper levels of the Imperial Palace, to meditate with her. Surprised, and confused, he was elated to discover that meditation was also a means with which to learn the Sith Code.

Peace is a lie, there is only passion.

Through passion I gain strength.

Through strength I gain power.

Through power I gain victory.

Through victory my chains are broken.

The Force shall free me.

It had seemed but a moment, immersed in the darkness and warmth of the Force, eternal and infinite, the Sith Code reverberating into its depths just once, and then his mother had ended the meditation. A brief flare of annoyance was followed by utter shock, as he opened his eyes to the bright light of the morning. Somehow, seven hours and more had passed in the blink of an eye, his mother's laughter echoing in the morning breeze.

In the Force, time is meaningless. Oh and congratulations.

He didn't know what she meant by that last, until he'd returned to his room and looked into a mirror…and found a pair of golden irises staring at him from his own eyes. At last…at long last…

…the Dark Side had found him worthy.

"…I think they might let you have a go." Mael was saying. "Though somehow I get the feeling Lady Invictus is going to want to deal with that Smoke fellow, or whatever his name was."

"Snoke," Ben corrected absent-mindedly. "His name is Snoke…huh…there's a fight I'd like to watch. A Lady of the Sith against the Supreme Leader of the First Order."

"If it even is a fight." Tael said, her face serious. "I've seen Lady Invictus fight seriously before, against that Jedi Knight, Luke Skywalker. It was…terrifying…"

Ben stayed silent, the twin inquisitors falling silent beside him, the young man's eyes narrowing in a moment at that name. "Luke…Skywalker…" he thought.

"Forty metric tons of food rations," Rey said, reading the cargo manifest out loud. "Another forty metric tons of seeds for edible plants, one disassembled protein synthesizer plant, and one disassembled hydroponics bay…"

Rey lowered the cargo manifest and glanced curiously at her new employer. "I thought you were a smuggler." She said.

Han Solo looked unimpressed. "Hey, shout it out for all the galaxy to hear, won't you?" he asked. "And more importantly, I prefer 'free trader', thank you very much."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Chewie moaned something out before beginning to laugh, and causing Han to roll his eyes before beginning to mutter to himself. "Alright, alright, I get it." Rey said, setting the cargo manifest aside before walking off to help Chewie start loading the cargo. "But this is for the Outer Rim, isn't it?"

"Yeah, a farming colony not far from the Koda Spur's terminus at Koda Station." Han said. "Anyway, we don't have to rush, but seeing as we're carrying rations, we shouldn't be late either. Hey Chewie, did you uh…load the personal stuff?"

A moan had Han nodding in satisfaction. "Alright," he said. "Get ready for takeoff, I'll go help out our newest crew member."

Another moan and Han was walking off to help Rey.

Han thumped the deck and Rey raised an eyebrow as the deck plating popped open. "You get around huh?" Han asked. "If you're not surprised by something like this."

"Not really…"

"…let me guess, in that…other universe, Invictus told me about, you met another me? And…um, seen this before?"

"Pretty much."

Han sighed. "Well, what are the chances?" he said, jumping down. "Well, just in case we meet my…other self, what's he like?"

"I only knew him for a few hours or so," Rey said. "But he was very much like you."

"…no kidding?"

"No, really, he was. Though…he seemed wiser, considering he's much older than you are."

Han stood still for a moment, not sure what to make of that. "Right..." he finally said.

"So…what exactly are we smuggling? Or should I say, trading freely?"

Han held up a bottle of dark red fluid, and picking it up Rey glanced at the label. "Moonshine?" she asked.

"It's not moonshine," Han said, taking the bottle of alcohol back and stowing it again. "For one thing, it was legitimately produced."

"But…it's not legitimately distributed, is it?"

"…that's why it's called free trading."

Rey thought this over for a few moments and then shrugged. "Right," she said. "Free trading."

"Anyway," Han said, climbing out of the hidden hold and helping Rey seal it back up. "As a junior partner in our little group, you get twenty-five per cent of all profits. So better get used to calling yourself a free trader too, Rey, at least here in the core."

"But on the rim?"

"The rim is the rim…" Han said, leading the way to the cockpit and sitting down in the pilot's seat. Chewie grunted a few times while handing Han a checklist. He looked at it a few times, while pressing certain buttons and flipping a few switches, Chewie doing likewise. "…yeah, that'll do."

Han glanced back at Rey and nudged his head at the navigator's seat. "Well, don't just stand around there, strap yourself in." he said, and Rey did as asked. Moments later, the ship hummed to life, repulsorlifts lifting the Millennium Falcon clear of the docking bay, up into the skies, and into outer space.

A/N

Name ship of the Executor Class, Executor, on sortie!

Yeah, I was basically fangirling over the Executor for about half this chapter. You can blame a responder on SB for that, specifically a comment on how long-suffering Piett and his lady ship's fates are so closely entwined. After reading that, I found myself reflecting and coming to the conclusion that no matter how much Star Destroyers are associated with the bad guys, they are the iconic capital ship for Star Wars. Mon Calamari Star Cruisers might be the rebels' preferred capital ships, but they fail to capture the heart the way Imperial Star Destroyers do. And the greatest of them all is the Executor.

Yes, I know she's a Star Dreadnought, and not actually a Star Destroyer. But that's a matter of semantics, as Star Dreadnoughts are also known as 'Super Star Destroyers'. I also know the Eclipse Class outclasses them but…the Executor and her class are more iconic. And now, I made them even more powerful: vastly-improved armor, reinforced hulls, one-third times faster and more maneuverable, superior targeting, shielded TIE Interceptors…

…to quote Ben Kingsley, oh yes, it's good to be bad.