Chapter 6: Hard Knocks.

39:3:18 GrS

Citadel Inquisitorius, Prakith

As I moved back through the long tunnel , I secured the holocron and the primer on my belt, just below the small of my back. One long elevator climb back to the top -I swear these things went slower going up than they did going down- I was back at the highest level of the Citadel. . .Just in time too, as my wrist comm started beeping. Not that it wouldn't have worked in the underground catacomb(?) I had just been in, but the connection would be stronger and there wouldn't be any random bursts of static.

I brought my left wrist up to chinheight. "Inquisitor here, report."

Captain Masal's voice came through. "M'lord, the ships of the planetary defense force in our sector are behaving erratically."

Unseen to Masal, I raised my eyebrows. "Erratically how?"

"No patrols have passed our formation by and closer range scanners no longer show any IFFs from the planetary defense force near us. Furthermore, We've detected a number of short-range hyperspace jumps from the outskirts of the system, with their exit points predicted to be the far side of Prakith."

Nothing was ever easy was it? I mentally ran through the latest, and sparse, Imperial Intelligence report related to Prakith. It had the designation of an Imperial Fortress World and was located in the Deep Core, which was a highly sought after region to be stationed at by Governors and Moffs. Its Planetary Defense Fleet was small in overall ship size, with nothing near the size of an Imperial-class in that fleet, but they did have respectable numbers. The current moff was one...Froga Brill, a close confidant both of Admiral Malfkla Yzu of the 15th Deep Core Reserve Fleet, itself currently patrolling the Metellos system, and Grand Moff Cinzero Gann.

Nothing to suggest that Brill had Rebel leanings but also nothing to suggest he would remain in the Imperial fold now that Palpatine was dead. All of Brill's allies were in the Deep Core and I knew that the Deep Core would become a cesspool of warlordism in the near future. Or that descent was beginning I realized.

What would the average Moff do if warships flying, figuratively, Inquisitorius colors showed up at his personal star system just as the Moff in question was about to implement his breakaway plan? Would he halt his plans and reassess his situation, or would he assume to worst and fully commit, knowing what his fate would be if he truly was found out?

Nuts.

Then the Force decided to send me a "you guessed correctly gift".

Masal came back on the comms. "We've detected a formation of ships approaching us from the northern hemisphere, they've just crested over the pole."

"Elaborate." I tersely ordered.

"Somewhere between ten to twelve ships my lord, all broadcasting Prakith IFFs. Three Strike-class medium cruisers, one Nebulon-B frigate, four Tartan-class patrol cruisers and three Arquitens-class light cruisers have been identified so far."

Which left the possibility that there were more ships using the electronic profile of the bigger ships as cover to hide themselves right up until combat began. I'd seen rebels pull the same tactic on occasion. Whenever they attempted a straight up fight rather than immediately retreating that is.

I crossed the distance to the holocom console with a few Force speed enhanced steps and started entering commands, while also issuing commands to Masal.

"Take the fleet to combat status and launch all TIE squadrons on CAP. Order any ship that approaches to power down and accept boarding parties. Should they fail to comply immediately then they are to be designated as rebels and destroyed. You are free to handle space affairs as you see fit." As I spoke, I rerouted any incoming transmissions to my commline using Inquisitorius override codes. They could easily be overridden by someone with the appropriate counter codes but I just wanted to make sure I didn't earn the ire of the Grand Inquisitor by missing his eventual communique.

"It will be done Lord Inquisitor." Masal said. "What about the rogue Moff? Should I commence with landing operations?"

"No." I decided. "I will deal with him personally. His residence is in Prak City, correct?"

A couple seconds of silence passed before Masal responded. "According to the records that is correct my lord."

"Very good. Carry on with your assignment captain, I'll contact you once the situation has been resolved planetside. Do be sure to treat the rebel fleet as a serious threat, they've had the better part of a decade to expand their numbers beyond what may be listed in the intelligence reports." I finished with that bit of advice.

"We will show them the error of their ways, my lord. You can count on that. Masal out." My wrist comm beeped as the transmission ended.

Silence overtook the chamber as I finished my work and placed the console in sleep mode. Before I could devote any time to planning my next move, a computer terminal to the left of my activated and started flashing. I peered over at the screen. It only showed a yellow grid on a green background with four dots moving in from the far right corner.

"What are the odds that those belong to Brill?" I wondered out loud.

A red light that started beeping on the console to the right of the one I was currently at. I guess that answered that. A prompt appeared on that screen. The approaching ships had been flagged as hostiles by the Citadel's defense screen.

Heh, poor fools. The KX-series droids must be oiling themselves in their eagerness to finally follow their programming.

Though judging from the estimated speed of the approaching hostiles, they weren't in any kind of Imperial troop transport or shuttle I was familiar with, and I've seen the breadth and width of what was Imperial standard in the past three years. Taking a look around me, I was reminded of the structural integrity, namely the lack thereof, that the top of any tall building held.

Besides, I needed to make sure that the flaming wreckage of the KX droids victims didn't damage my ride out of here.

One elevator trip later, along with me taking the most direct route to the landing platforms, and I was out of the potential death trap and back into the warm winds of Prakith. The sun was close to the horizon and the light orange color of the sky was gradually giving way to the starry night sky. As I gazed up into the changing sky, I was met with, perhaps, my favourite sight in this galaxy: The grey-colored, dagger profile of the Adamant. Normally I preferred the sight of her alone, the stark reminder of Imperial might reminding a world just what their masters were capable of should they forsake loyalty for petty self interest. Now that the two Victory-IIs, the Relentless and the Pacer respectively, were under my command, and had taken up flank positions to either side of the Adamant, the Adamant more embodied the role of pack alpha. Like the leader of a pride of lions.

The Force prickled at me and I redirected my gaze to a significantly less awe inspiring site: a run down Z-95 Headhunter and three metal boxes with engines strapped to them that rounded the side of the mountain that the Citadel had been built into.

I smirked at the sight, mentally counting down the seconds until the automated defenses.

In three...two...one

Whump, Whump, Whump, Whump! Sounded off the eight XX-9 heavy turbolaser towers that formed the main defense of the Citadel's landing pads. I felt the shockwaves from their retorts rattle around in my bones.

Brill's ships never stood a chance. The makeshift transports, that was what I assumed they were based on the concentration of lifeforms I could vaguely sense in them, were all blown to smithereens. The Headhunter actually had a competent pilot, as they managed to evade the initial volley, sending their machine into a dive straight towards the landing pad, namely the one my Interceptor was one.

Clearly they intended to destroy it. But the hit it took to its engines, via a turbolaser that was fired from somewhere, threw it off course and its flaming wreckage impacted harmlessly in the space between Pads 3 and 4. My helmet automatically darkening itself to keep my vision from being impared.

Then the Citadel decided to remind me just why I had good reason to be wary around it. A feeling of perverse satisfaction began to ooze around me. Like a gluttonous behemoth that had been allowed to gorge itself after a impossed fast.

I tightened up my defenses, but did turn and sketch a bow to the gigantic black tower before clambering up the boarding ladder and into my Interceptor. After powering the starfighter on, I plotted a course for Prak City and pushed power into the ship's ion engines. Time to cut off the snake's head.

As I flew north towards the equator, tiny pinpricks of green flashed across the sky. There was the sight of three star destroyers unleashing their wrath on the Brill loyalists. The idiots had come at the Adamant and her escorts from a descending angle, meaning that the entirety of the ships main guns on all three ships could be brought to bear. The equivalent of shooting fish in a barrel of a Star Destroyer captain.

Maybe I should call Brill's followers renegades instead? Eh, that was for me to deal with when I had finished mopping up the local government.

Really in the end most things just boiled down to making the final report look nice in the Empire. Methods be damned, it was the results that got you promoted.