Space is big. A smart man, somewhere in sometime once said this. I am sure that as this smart man made this astute observation, the other smart men in the room with the first smart man all made various noises and motions of agreement. What a wise conclusion, they must have told their fellow. Space is big. How could no one have stated this obvious truth before now? Then they scribbled their wise notes on paper and had it all bundled together to be shipped out to some journal or university or magazine for printing. From there this one wise man would become etched in the history books as the first person to lay simple, obvious, truth to paper. Bravo for him.
The question I had, staring through the viewport on the Adamant's bridge, was that why did space refuse to stop being big?
Thousands upon thousands of years had been dedicated to filling out the blank spaces of the galactic map.
And yet, you still couldn't find the needle in the haystack.
I glared out at the empty space in front of the fleet.
"Well Masal?" I curtly demanded of the captain. "Where are the ships?"
"They are not hear my lord."
"Yes. They are not. Why are they not?" I demand of the suddenly stoic man.
"I do not know my lord."
I sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Theorize on what might have happened."
I could sense the slight unease in Masal and the faint rustling of fabric suggested that he was shifting uncomfortably on his feet.
"That would be hard to say sir." Masal admitted. "The patrol route might have been changed since we obtained our report, they might have deserted, gone warlord, received new orders or we might even be early or late on our intercept. They could have already passed this place by."
"Two ships passing in the night." I muttered.
"Sir?"
"Nevermind." I shook my head. "The fleet waits for an hour, if they still haven't arrived after that, we make note of that and continue down the list."
"A sound plan sir." Masal agreed, because it was his job to agree. "Our next target for acquisition being?"
I frowned. "Something that is supposed to stay in one place. A garrison."
"No, not a garrison." I shook my head. "A fueling depot, that is what we need to find. Find a fuel depot for us to visit, Masal."
"It will be done sir."
Back in my chambers, I was more free to brood about the progress of my acquisition mission. The lack of progress, specifically.
The first week after leaving N'Zoth had been fruitful. The Intimidator, along with the other ships from Black Fifteen shipyard, had been dispatched to Imperial Center. It was a faster journey out of this region of space than it was going into it, and by the middle of the second week, I had received a domineering and backhanded message from the Grand Inquisitor that the super star destroyer had met his expectations, and I should continue my good work.
Obviously I added the good work bit. More ships was what the Grand Inquisitor wanted and so I was to get him more ships.
Which had been easy at first. Using our existing navigational data and the reports downloaded from sector command, we hunted down two more shipyards and sent their ships reporting back to Imperial Center. Three patrols had been intercepted, provided the new doctored orders to head back to the core, and sent on their way. One refueling ship and one mobile fleet tender had been accidentally run into and directed back to the capital, after my fleet had topped off our fuel tanks of course.
But apparently the good times have expiration dates, because after the fleet tender, we hadn't run into an Imperial Navy ship for a week and a half straight. Or was it two weeks now? I shook my head. It was like I'd managed to accidentally walk into a doldrum part of space. One irritably devoid of my targets.
My initial plan that I had sold to Yiaso had been that with my doctored recall orders and the credential of being an Inquisitor, I'd be able to redirected at least a third of Black Sword Command back to Imperial Center and therefore into the waiting arms of Yiaso himself, allowing the Grand Inquisitor to, overnight, build an armada that outclassed any member of the Ruling Council.
Unless my fleet bumbled into a whole squadron out here in the black void, I'd be lucky to say that I had captured a fifth of Black Sword Command for the Inquisitorius, aka the Grand Inquisitor.
There hadn't been any word from the Grand Inquisitor as to this growing failure but I could swear that I could feel phantom fingers slowly strangling my neck as I pondered facing Yiaso's displeasure.
Speaking of displeasure, I turned my attention away from dark thoughts and back to the ritual circle I was working on. The circle of inquisitors(we didn't have a group name or anything) I had joined had struck a collective deal with the one and only Jerec, former High Inquisitor and current free agent, through my acquaintance the Ninth Sister. We all owed Jerec a favor, no limits of course, and he provided us with an escape from the ball and chain Yiaso had embedded in our arms.
I pricked my thumb and let a few drops drip down onto the scrawled sith script I had put on a spare page of flimsi. With a push of the Force, the script began to glow red as energy flowed through its ink. I muttered a word and suddenly felt a sensation of breaking, containing and purging come from the ritual circle. The script glowed a brighter red than it had been before the ink shattered off the page.
I hummed and rubbed my chin. That had felt…promising.
Jerec had promised that this one ritual would wipe out the stone Yiaso had put in our arms. His words specifically being 'wipe out'.
Now what could that mean? Certainly it was interpretable depending on the context. But I had to consider who exactly I was dealing with. Jerec. The man Sidious had on the shortlist to replace Vader if he died in the Clone Wars.
There were a few limited definitions of what Jerec could mean by 'wipe out', and I didn't want those happening to something in my arm.
It could blow up, that would be wiped out. It could poof into dust, leaving a hole in my arm where it had been. The magicks enchanted into the stone could be removed, leaving the physical object perfectly fine.
Besides the fact that I was pretty certain turning the stone off would alert Yiaso in some manner, I was not going to be the first one to turn the stone off. No, I needed someone dumber than me, with less to lose than me, to be a test subject.
Yes, I thought to myself. That was a good plan. I'd call the Ninth Sister and work on her. Make something up about how sacrificing a fellow to see what would happen would benefit both of us. Or maybe Jerec had told her more about the effects of the ritual circle.
The Circle had only joined together in order to free ourselves of the odious control of the Grand Inquisitor, we'd made no agreement to continue to help each other afterwards.
I had to plan this carefully. Very carefully.
I dialed the Ninth Sister on my communications console. No response.
"This is the Ninth Brother. Return my call when you're able to. We need to talk." I left a message and attached my communicator address to the message. With some luck, the two of us would be able to speak by the end of the week.
I drummed my fingers against the sides of the console. Back to the bridge?
Sure, but first.
I strode back over to the flimsi where I had tested the ritual circle. I shuffled the papers around and found the other pages where I had been testing. I had to write the circle out and it was very important when dealing with sith sorcery that you did not mess up. My calligraphy had become very good in the past year, I had to say.
Finding the right circle, I took out a tracing sheet of flimsi, and wrote the small ritual circle again. I rolled up my left sleeve and held the flimsi over the eight-sided, semi rectangular, stone. It fit perfectly within the ritual circle. I tore away the upper layer of the transfer flimsi and was left with just the under layer. I tucked the under layer into the inner pocket of my tunic.
All I'd need to do now, if the situation demanded, was press the sheet onto my left arm and presto! Instant ritual circle ready for use. It never hurts to be prepared.
I was just starting to debate the merits of a surprise inspection to the 666th down below, Atten always appreciated a chance to dole out punishment duties, when my communication chimed. Not the long distance console, but the handheld device I had on my belt.
"This is the Inquisitor." I said into the communicator. "What is it."
"This is Captain Masal sir. We need you on the bridge. There is…a situation." Masal answered. His words were slowly said and I could tell that they were deliberately chosen.
"I'll be right there. " I made to put the communicator back on my belt when a feeling came upon me. "Have the astrogation department prepare to disseminate jump coordinates to the rest of the fleet and order the fleet to warm up the hyperdrives."
"Understood." Masal was curious by those orders and concerned. He knew that strange commands from me meant something was afoot. Though I always wondered how far the good captain's understanding of the Force and its powers went.
A short elevator ride later, I was back on the bridge, cape fluttering behind me as I moved. Masal met me in the chamber just before the bridge proper, where the holocommunicator consoles for the ship were, along with the various hologram charts and projectors.
"What's this about, captain?" I asked Masal in a low tone. Out of the corner of my vision I could see ensigns and petty officers doing their best to blend in with their consoles.
"Urgent message from Imperial Center sir." Masal matched my tone. "It's marked with the ident code of the Ruling Council."
I crossed my arms. "Does it say which one?"
Masal nodded and I sensed worry running through him. "Sate Pestage sir."
"The Grand Vizier himself? Put the message through." We turned to the holocommunicator as a blue hologram appeared.
It was Pestage himself. The bald man looked nervous and the wrinkles and liver spots on his hooked nose face seemed to be deeper than what the HoloNet portrayed.
"Ahem." Pestage weakly cleared his throat before beginning. "Ninth Brother of the Inquisitorius. I am Sate Pestage, Interim-Emperor. Your skill in combating the enemies of this Empire have been routinely praised by your master, Grand Inquisitor Yiaso, during my council meetings."
The hologram's beady eyes darted offscreen for a second. "It is in that spirit that I am calling upon you. The rebels' so-called New Republic had begun an offensive into the Core Worlds. The main target of their attack is Imperial Center itself. Never fear for I will not allow their attack to go far. It has been decided that their offensive will be defeated at Brentaal IV."
"You will take your fleet and aid in the defense of this key world. Admiral Lon Isoto is commanding the defense currently but your master believes you will be an incalculable asset to the defense." Pestage smoothed his voluminous robes. "I anticipate hearing news of your successes under Isoto's command. Do keep in mind the vast depths that an Emperor's gratefulness can manifest in innumerable ways."
The hologram winked out. My mind whirled in frantic thought.
What was this? Why was this?
Who was behind this move? Yiaso obviously, that was clear. But was he moving in concert with Pestage or with Isard? Could the two of them have made peace so soon after their shadow war broke out?
Obviously it was possible, but was it likely? Maybe maybe. Isoto was a well known incompetent who had bought his way to the admiralty. I remembered him being a patsy in the final stages of Isard's climb to power. But why was I being moved onto the board? Who had promised who in exchange for my presence?
Questions on top of questions, plots within plots.
"Sir?" Masal asked.
"Any.." I cleared my throat and began again. "Were there any other messages attached to this one?"
Masal looked at the on duty communications officer.
"No sir." The officer said.
I nodded at the reply. I'd have to think on the way to Brentaal then.
"Action stations across the fleet then." I announced. "Prepare to jump to lightspeed. Have Astrogation distribute jump coordinates and set the destination to Brentaal IV. Move!"
Masal and his aides practically leapt away from me, speed walking to the bridge and roaring out orders to the pit crew. I felt the Adamant lurch beneath me as the engines powered up.
Back to the Core we went. I checked the date on the message. It had been recorded a day and a half ago. The current date?
39.11.27 GrS. Three days before the start of the final month of the year.
I'd have to do my thinking during the trip, because I needed to figure out how in the hells I was going to survive the clusterfuck Yiaso had just thrown me into.
Onwards to Brentaal IV I suppose.
A/N - Transition chapters, always a fan favorite I'm sure. Now I need to go do some reading about the Battle of Brentaal IV but see everyone next time for the battle. Finally back to the wars part of any star wars fic!
Fun Fact - There are 8 distinct battles/engagements at Brentaal IV across the star wars timeline