Twilight of the Republic 1.1
"Im Westen nichts Neues."
As Commodore Mikkel van Lynden stood on the bridge, staring out into hyperspace, he wondered how long it would take him to develop hyperspace madness. Surely even that would be preferable to his current posting. He was so bored that part of him figured he'd welcome being deployed to the front; at least then, he'd have something to do. He had almost had the chance; he spent all the political capital his family had available and got himself in line for a Venator that was about to come fresh off the shipyards. Only for it to be torn apart for scrap in favor of a shiny new Imperator-class. What was he left with? The Defiant, a rusty Acclamator left over from the start of the war.
The voice of the navigation officer, Lorn Syko, tore him from his thoughts. "We'll be exiting hyperspace shortly," the young Zeltron's voice came from halfway across the bridge.
Mikkel let a smile slip onto his face as the other man spoke. At least he knew most of his bridge crew; many of them were from the same class as him."Good, the sooner we finish this run, the better. Maybe they'll give us an actual mission and not supply duty."
The blue of hyperspace faded into the darkness of natural space as the ship lurched between the two dimensions. In the distance, he could vaguely see their destination: Ospim, an Outer Rim dirtball recently taken from the Separatists. The brown planet's only strategic resource was that it held one of the many hundreds of battle-droid factories owned by the Techno Union. By the time the Grand Army of the Republic had installed a garrison, it didn't even have that much.
"Take us down to the world. The Arquitens will follow behind us. Take care not to stray too close to any debris. Could be a few buzz droids still floating about." Mikkel's orders were received with a quick nod. The three Arquitens-class light cruisers assigned to his flotilla were already falling into standard escort formation.
"You know, I once heard a story about a bunch of buzz droids breaking into the bridge of a Venator." A new voice spoke: Omar Halcorr, the dark-haired, dark-skinned gunnery officer.
"You're bullshitting me! Not even a hundred of those things could scratch the paint on a Venator," Lorn snapped back. The nearby shrill beeping of the holoprojector tore Mikkel away from the pair's bickering as he stepped from the front of the bridge to answer the call.
"Take over for a minute. I'm getting a priority holo," the commodore said to his XO, lieutenant Yoan Nikaly, as he moved to the holo-projector at the rear of the Acclamator's bridge. When the holoprojector flared to life, Mikkel was surprised to see the visage of Chancellor Palpatine. The man was far more scarred and decrepit than Mikkel remembered, but it was undoubtedly the chancellor of the Republic. It didn't take him long to realize it was a prerecorded message and not an actual communique. The hologram-chancellor swept an arm out, gesturing to some invisible audience as it spoke, seemingly already midway through a speech.
"The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated!" That sentence hit the commodore with all the force of a punch to the gut, but the speech continued before Mikkel had any time to process it.
"Any collaborators will suffer the same fate," the hologram continued. "These have been trying times, but we have passed the test. The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed, but I assure you my resolve has never been stronger!" The chancellor's voice, usually so much like a doting old man, resounded with strength not present in his frail body. "The war is over. The Separatists have been defeated," and Mikkel could barely avoid scoffing in disbelief at that news, "and the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. We stand on the threshold of a new beginning. In order to ensure our security and continued stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire!" The hologram then froze, leaving Mikkel and the bridge crew, who had overheard it, wide-eyed in shock.
The frozen image of the grinning Chancellor turned Emperor flickered, before turning to the stern image of Admiral Tarsus Delastan, an older, pale Zabrak man and one of the highest-ranking commanders in the Republic Navy. The man visibly took a moment to calm himself before speaking.
"If you are receiving this message, the Senate and I have failed. Sheev Palpatine has succeeded in gaining complete control over the Senate and Coruscant. I'll keep it brief: the speech you just witnessed was the most extraordinary attack on the Republic and our democracy since the Pius Dea cult overtook the Chancellery. Make no mistake, however: the Republic overcame those cultists, and we can overcome this would-be emperor. As such, I am authorizing Contingency Order Sixty-Five, and I am ordering any loyal forces that remain to regroup at Alsakan immediately. For the Republic." The hologram flickered offline, its grim message delivered.
As Mikkel looked upon the now blank holoprojector, he couldn't help… couldn't help anything. He just stood there, and he stared. With a feeling roiling in his stomach that Basic hadn't developed a word for yet. Something like shame, something like rage, something like sheer horror.
And the cold wonder that if the Senate even tried to oppose this, why the fuck would they allow anything like this to be done? He didn't realize it at first, but his hands covered his mouth. His tongue felt slimy in a dry, dusty hole in his mouth. Part of him had to wonder if what he saw was real and not just some nightmare.
Fear of crowds is a common emotion. It's the ancient fear of being judged harshly, being an outcast. For most people throughout history, being shamed and shunned was worse than death. Even in a society as individualistic as the Republic, there's something of the raw animal instinct that likes to freeze up when it sees a crowd when all eyes are upon you.
When you become the star of the show.
Mikkel noted that feeling as he stared out at the rest of the bridge crew. Old chemicals and a phobia of doing anything before his father whipped him senseless, but it was a cold thing. A back of the mind thing. He couldn't really focus on it, and it came and went like stars in hyperspace. A wide array of emotions covered their faces—shock, fear, disgust, rage. He knew he couldn't let panic take hold of them, not like it had taken hold of him.
"It's been a long time since the Renunciation," he found himself speaking, shouting with a throat that didn't seem to work. He didn't even remember removing his hands. There was no art to it—only a raw force of air through the lungs and trachea, which the men had, perhaps, mistaken for words. "You've read the books, right? You know the history? They went to Alsakan as well. They stood for what they believed in. They made an impact."
"And the fuckers tried to tear them apart for it." He found himself pointing at them; his arm was all muscle, all vein. He didn't know why he couldn't feel his heartbeat, why he couldn't feel anything inside his chest. "Now it seems like history wants to repeat itself. I don't know the full story, but I know enough. I know that Chancellor Palpatine is calling himself an 'emperor' and trying to dissolve the Republic and that Admiral Delastan is trying to stop it. So I say we do what our ancestors did. We go to Alsakan; we make an impact." He trailed off, looking at each of his bridge officers in the eyes, waiting for their response.
"Captain," Lieutenant Nikaly, the fair-haired Kuati woman, began in a soft voice, "what's gotten into you?"
"The Republic, Yoan!" Mikkel spoke. His voice sounded like thunder over the silence of the bridge. "If the Republic is falling like Admiral Delastan said it is—isn't our duty to stop it? Isn't our duty to protect the Republic!?"
He heaved out a breath, part of him distantly noticing the concern on his friends' faces. "We all swore our oaths. I don't intend on throwing mine away at the first sign of trouble."
He locked eyes with the security officer—a Clone Trooper who had lost an arm and was deemed too 'defective' to serve in ground combat, even with a prosthesis—who was silent, his face closed off, betraying nothing. Until he finally spoke in a harsh Mandalorian accent. "You're the captain, sir," the clone said slowly, "where you go, we'll follow."
"What about the garrison here, sir?" asked Lorn, a look of consternation on the young Zeltron man's face.
Yoan gave a nod, looking at the commodore. "Mikkel, we should at least drop off the supplies for the garrison before we do anything drastic."
Mikkel held up a hand, attempting to forestall any complaints. "No, we can't waste time dallying in the Outer Rim. The garrison won't starve. Yoan, get the other captains on the line."
The Kuati woman hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Yes, sir."
It didn't take long for the holoprojector to flash to life. Flaring to life were the captains of the three Arquitens light cruisers assigned as escorts to the Defiant. The four stared at each other in a silent contest to see who would speak first.
"Would I be correct in assuming we all have received the admiral's message?" began Captain Ryurik Bogatyri, a one-eyed fair-skinned human with graying hair and a dour face.
"You would be correct," Mikkel responded, crossing his arms, "I've spoken with my crew, and we intend to make for Alsakan. I'll not order you to follow me, but…" he trailed off, glancing between the captains.
"That sounds dangerously close to treason," warned the blue-skinned Twi'lek captain Kynigunde Kvarrel, prompting a bark of bitter laughter from Mikkel
"If that message is telling the truth, then not going would also be treason." Mikkel retorted before sighing and letting his glare fade. "It can just be in and out; if we don't like what we see, we can leave. We've got an Acclamator and three Arquitens." Mikkel thought to himself, fast enough to outrun anything bigger than us and enough guns to fight off anything that can catch us.
The final captain, silent at first, spoke her piece, "I have to agree with the Commodore," Freya Spatharia, a fair-haired Alderaanian only a couple years older than Mikkel, spoke. "If we've been lured under false pretenses, it will be an easy thing to retreat."
"Besides," the loud bass of Captain Bogatyri boomed out in a roughly accented basic, "I don't know about you, but I didn't spend twenty-five years in the Judicial Forces, fighting for the Republic just to bow down to some emperor."
"What?" sounded from Captain Kvarrel. "We'd be flying in blind and deserting our standing orders at the word of what may well be a forgery or treason. I want no part in this."
"Very well," Mikkel spoke softly after a moment of silence. "Go. I won't stop you."
The twi'lek shifted out of view for several seconds before reappearing on screen. "Don't follow him," she asked - almost begging the others. "He'll see you all to an early grave."
"Better to die having chosen the wrong course than live having resolved to do nothing." Bogatyri retorted.
"Captain, the Defender is charging up her hyperdrive," Lorn reported to Mikkel, but he simply held up a hand in a halting gesture.
"Let them go in peace," Mikkel turned his head to address his navigation officer before turning back toward the holoprojector.
"By your leave, commodore, we'll follow your course." Captain Freya said.
"To victory or defeat as the gods will, for the Republic," Captain Bogatyri spoke as the Defender turned spinward.
"You're all three of you fools and idiots," came Captain Kynigunde's final biting remark as she disconnected from the holo-call.
"And you're a coward," Bogatyri spoke at the now empty space as his own ship, the Druzhinnik, began turning for the journey coreward.
"Right. All remaining ships, begin plotting courses for Alsakan," Mikkel ordered Lorn and his two remaining subordinate captains. "For the Republic." With that, he reached forward and cut the holo-call.
Then, with a cargo hold full of undelivered supplies, spare parts, and more, the Defiant spun coreward. Her powerful hyperdrive thrummed with energy as she jumped for Alsakan, followed closely by the Druzhinnik and the Warspite.
On the bridge of the Defiant, Mikkel stood, hand shaking slightly by his side as he watched the inky black of realspace once more fade into the blue streaks of hyperspace.
_
AN: Hello, everyone, I'm doing a thing again. This time it's star wars, set during the rise of the empire. "What I remember most about the rise of the Empire... was how quiet it was." - statements made by the utterly deranged. Didn't sit well with me how easy the formation of the empire seemed so easy. An important note is this will be a legends and Canon fusion. Anyway yeah, enough rambling, thanks for checking out the chapter, and make sure to give a big thanks to Legionary Guard over on AH as my co-writer and the amazing Baron Icklesworth on SB who helped proofread this for me, so you actually got a story with consistent tenses and not whatever my usual shit is