Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars nor am I associated with those that do. This is a non-profit fan work written for the purpose of entertainment.

Sympathy for the Warlord

Chapter 1 - Hakassi

Hakassi's capital city was beautiful this time of year. Temperate, with rolling fields of some local poppy, the air filled with pleasant conversation and children's laughter as they played. I had been to many worlds over my career, but Hakassi had grown in my heart. It was a calming reprieve from the matter of war, a reprieve I found I needed now more than ever before.

I brought the teacup to my lips for a soft sip, a rich aroma wafting under my nose before setting the cup down with a content sigh. I looked out over the city skyline, to the distant poppy fields: yes, relaxing was good. It calmed the soul, let you think about something other than your troubles - and I had too many of those now.

Yet my relaxation was marred, a few minutes ago a grey uniformed staff officer had entered the pavilion I had set aside strictly for this purpose, held in check by the pair of broad-shouldered Stormtroopers from my guard detail. I had opted to ignore the man, petulant but I had only been here in my special place for a few minutes. Had I not earned this momentary respite for the hard duties of rulership and war? Then again, these stresses were of my own making, hubris and greed melding together to age me prematurely. It was largely my fault I was here, yet at the same time not.

I am Kosh Teradoc, Admiral of the Imperial Navy and formerly of Crimson Command. I was born on a midrim world named Er'kit, a year younger than my brother and his sworn bitter rival. Sibling rivalry had transcended into adulthood, and a part of me wondered if that pushed me into declaring my fiefdom. Petty feuding with my brother, our desperation for one-upping each other, and now I had declared myself a renegade from the Empire.

It is poignant to mention introspection was not born naturally unless I had a mental break over the last few months. The stress from my most recent, and self-declared, position could certainly have had an effect. Memories not quite my own flooded my mind, showcasing this galaxy through a series of holovids, books, and children's games. A veritable pantheon of media, all designed solely to allow some extra-dimensional third party to witness and experience our lives vicariously.

I wondered if I had gone mad, though arrogantly I believed the control of my mental faculties was great enough that I would know if I were crazy. Instead, I took these hosts of memories not-quite-mine and verified them against history I could know. I began with the Clone Wars, an event that played a significant part in much of this media. Events lined up, though not always as they appeared. Much of the media was targeted toward a younger audience, and so its tactical value was largely nonexistent. However, some events lined up perfectly to such an extent that I was made mildly uncomfortable. The Battle of Jabiim, a conflict cloaked in secrecy even to this day and one I required my highest level credentials to access, followed much of what I saw in these memories. The Battle of Coruscant, the assassination attempt of Padmé Amidala, and on and on and on… Not to take that as proof that I was a psychic or what have you, so I turned my research elsewhere. To the distant past and into more recent events - my findings were as discouraging as they were interesting. Unfortunately, the past of the galaxy was one mired in intrigue, misinformation, and legend. The tales of Revan were limited on the HoloNet, or from what I could access in any case, so for all intents-and-purposes, my knowledge about his life was a mere fantasy. The same could be said for the wars of the time, of which only their brutality and scant other details survived the march of time.

It was more recent events that lent credence to the veracity of these bizarre memories. They provided context to events that were steeped in mystery and laired in such deep propaganda it was impossible to determine truth from fiction. How was the Death Star destroyed? Tarkin and Vader, in their brilliance, allowed the rebels to make off with the stolen data plans which allowed them to uncover a weakness in the battlestation (Of course, they had no way of knowing there was an exploitable weakness, nor that the rebels had the means and luck to utilize it). How did the Emperor and Vader die on the Second Death Star? Luke Skywalker, who was apparently the son of Vader, dueled Vader before Vader murdered the Emperor. It was through this train of events that I discovered another uncomfortable truth - the Force was real.

Growing up on Er'kit, I had heard stories of the Jedi. Our proximity to the Tion Hegemony meant many of those stories were far from kind, but among them were tales of miraculous abilities - capable of moving objects with their minds, of influencing the galaxy around them, and much more. I had never placed much stake in those claims, finding them boorish at best. Beyond that, I hadn't paid them much mind - they were a corrupt remnant of the Old Republic and had no influence on my life. What a fool I was, if my feverish visions were anything to go by. The Jedi really were psychic mystics, and the Emperor had been one of them! Or some religious off-shoot, the memories were not very helpful in that regard. Even if these works of media were more fanciful than realistic, the knowledge that Skywalker - a rising force in the Alliance if these memories were anything to go by - was the offspring of Lord Vader was a tool I could find a use for. The memories from there were an eclectic mess of conversations, battles, and an ever-changing cast of characters. The years to come were interesting indeed for the galaxy, and it seemed the warlordism I was partaking in would soon become in-vogue for many more of my former compatriots.

Relevance to me specifically was where the memories took a… darker turn, and it was in part the cause for my more morose attitude as of late. In the immediate future, Sate Pestage was not long for his position or the galaxy. Ysanne Isard, director of the Imperial Security Bureau, would push the Ruling Council to depose him. Not without cause, as I understood it Pestage would be in talks to defect to the rebels soon. Still, her actions would be the prelude to her seizing control of the Empire, ostensibly naming herself Empress. What was more, the Deep Core would soon become very busy. Harrsk and I were the only major powers for now, but that would change soon. The need to shore up my position increased with the passing days.

The situation deteriorated further. The Core would fall, the Deep Core spared only due to the difficulty in traversing it. Palpatine would return - several times over a short period, unless my mind was playing tricks on me - before the Empire would fragment further. Treuten and I would join forces for a time before Leonia Tavira would sow discord in our ranks. It would have been amusing had I not been raging at the impudence of that damned Moff! A woman! Treuten had finally put his damned ego to rest, and our plans were foiled by the flirtations of an over-ambitious governor (Never mind that my ego was more than Treuten's equal, I understood this to be the case even I could not bring myself to shoulder the blame). When Palpatine returned, Treuten's fate became sealed. I sent him to the Deep Core while I secured the Mid Core. I sent him to where he would eventually meet his fate, murdered by that rodent Pellaeon and his maddened mistress.

Treuten, my fool of an older brother. Treuten, the arrogant blob who had always bitten off more than he could chew. Treuten, who could not stop sobbing at our mother's funeral when I tried to keep a strong face. Treuten, who constantly bickered with me over who got to play Piethet Brighteyes in our little games of imagination. Treuten, who I had held tight when I was barely young enough to remember as the great Er'Kit super storms ravaged our home city. My brother.

Was that all this would amount to? Me, alone, a tired old warlord left to wither away in a galaxy that had abandoned me? My death then was a mercy, anticlimactic and sudden. A part of me wanted to leave this pretty little world with my fleet, fight my way through the Imperials and warlords and anyone that dared stand in my way, and join Treuten. To face the galaxy as we should have from the start: shoulder to shoulder, side to side. Daring it to strike us down. A far larger part of me recoiled at the thought, at such an admission of need - at such desperate want for approval from a brother that had done nothing in our adult lives but snub me.

It was pathetic, on both of our parts.

The fate of Treuten then led to mine. I had forged a mighty fiefdom in the Deep Core, I was the chief rival of Harrsk until I eventually left the region. My eventual death notwithstanding, I should have been a noteworthy threat to the powers vying for the Core. I should have, would have done something! Anything! And what was my contribution to the great tapestry of this "Star Wars" media? What mark did I leave that made the undignified exit Treuten and I worth it in the end?

Footnotes. Minor appearances and off-hand references by the real players in the galaxy. That hurt almost as much as the fate of Treuten, the knowledge that all of this was doomed to failure and to be forgotten. I would have had more effect on the galaxy in remaining with the Empire then splitting away, in that case I would have rubbed shoulders with the people who would matter.

The Teradoc family, footnotes. I sneered, gripping the handle of my tea cup more tightly as I fumed at the injustice of it all. Kosh Teradoc was not a footnote. Kosh Teradoc was not forgotten like yesterday's lunch! My name would be remembered, even if I needed to burn it into every soul in this galaxy! When those Vong or whoever they were came sniffing around this galaxy, the denizens would say to themselves: "Well, at least it isn't Kosh Teradoc".

I released the tea cup slowly, careful not to crush it in my grip - I would hate to make a mess when I had come to enjoy this place so far. I had never been a man for nature, the effect of being a spacer for most of my life, but it was another unintended side effect of these memories. While I had received visions of this "Star Wars" media empire, I had also been inundated with less relevant experiences.

The life of a man named "Charles Davies", who had been an avid fan of "Star Wars", filtered through my mind alongside the stories and games. Much of it lacked context, a galaxy and lifetime separated us and much of his life was bizarre to say the least. As I understood it, he came from a pre-space flight society which had only barely escaped the gravity of their planet. He was an inoffensive man, perhaps a little soft hearted and certainly naively unaware of hardship. He lived a full life, and then he died - and his memories were granted to me.

I am Kosh Teradoc, that much I am certain of. This was not Charles overriding me and taking over my body, it was more me being blasted by his memories. Some stuck, like the sum total of "Star Wars" lore and bits of his personality - I was never this sentimental, but the majority of it was… useless? Still, I raised my glass ever so slightly in a salute to Mister Davies: to a life well lived and as thanks for giving me some much needed introspection.

To you, Mister Davies, I thought, a wry grin crossing my lips as I sipped again, As reprehensible as you might have found me.

Deciding I had let the officer sweat for long enough. I set my cup down with a loud clunk before raising a hand, signaling him over. The rapid falls of his boots filled the room before they ended, the younger man standing at my side.

"I believe I said I was not to be disturbed," I said, my voice rumbling - not quite annoyed.

"Yes, sir," The man said quickly, head bowed as he spoke, "I, we would not have disturbed you if it were not dire. A situation had begun unfolding at the borders of your domain, Admiral."

"A situation?" I asked dryly, and when he did not continue, I spoke again, "Out with it, man."

"Of course, sir," The man spluttered before clearing his throat, "Loyalist forces attacked the fleet at the Treskov system and drove them out. Scouts have shown they are preparing a ground invasion at the base on Ebaq-9."

I let out a breath through my nose, though my exasperation quickly turned to concern. Loyalist attacks? My memories did not showcase any major effort by the Empire to launch an attack into the Deep Core, especially not under Pestage. You could put a man in a room with an unlocked door and he would starve to death before he could decide if he wanted to go through. Perhaps Isard, but then again, why? Why rouse the attention of the Deep Core warlords when she was already preparing to feed the Core into New Republic hands?

Perhaps this did happen, and was just a minor enough event to not necessitate mentioning in sourcebooks and stories? My story was never important, merely set dressing for the real characters. I grit my teeth, I was no one's side character or villain of the week!

"Well, we should not keep them waiting," I grouse, knocking back the rest of my tea before setting the glass down hard. I dabbed at my lips with a handkerchief before continuing, "Are my officers gathered?"

"Yes, Admiral."

I got to my feet, reached into the inner pocket of my tunic, and pulled free a cred chit. I dropped it haphazardly next to the glass and platter, nodding toward the young waitress who stood in one corner of the room.

"My thanks, dear." The girl bowed her head quickly, babbling out something I could not quite hear. Her voice and expression were clear with naked fear, eliciting a twinge in my heart. I did not like being feared, I decided. For most of my life, it was a part of being an Imperial Admiral. Now, with these new memories and thoughts, I quite disliked being hated.

Soft-hearted fool.

However, I did not know if I was talking about Davies or myself. I left the room without another word or glance toward the girl, my attention already set on the coming battle.

The Lancet had been my flagship for years now and for that, she had become my pride and joy. In part, it was ego - Treuten had lorded his early Admiralship over me for ages until I was promoted, and given the powerful Imperial II. While Treuten put about in his aging Victory class, I commanded a sleek and modern warship! That victory had lost its luster as of late, but she was still a powerful vessel.

My shuttle ferried me from Hakassi's surface, where a tram awaited to deliver me to the bridge. News of imminent battle had already reached the bridge at large, as crew members rushed to their duty stations all across the Star Destroyer.

"They've sent a dozen Star Destroyers, all classes - led by an Allegiance battlecruiser called the Implacable," The officer, who had joined me on the trip back, gave me an overview of the situation, "They had some support ships, but they appeared to have several Acclamator assault ships."

That was concerning, the Ebaq garrison would not have necessitated more than one of the troop-carrying cruisers. Several showed they were either planning to race for another world or to dig in their heels and prepare for counter-attacks. Neither was a possibility I was willing to entertain - reprisal would be swift and effective.

"Do we know their commander?" I asked, the fleet not telling me anything about what kind of foe I would be facing - it was as standard an Imperial fleet as any other.

"No, Admiral," The officer refuted, his tone taking a nervous note, "The Implacable isn't on our registry - she's probably fresh from Kuat. The rest of the ships are pulled from as many fleets, this may be a new task force."

"A new task force?" I grumbled, reaching a hand up to scratch at my cheek in thought. I let a smirk cross my lips.

They should have sent more ships.

I had a little under two dozen Star Destroyers to my name, and many more lighter vessels between. Corvettes, carriers, and cruisers of all shapes made up for the shortcomings of my larger vessels. Shortcomings I was distinctly aware of and more than willing to admit - memories played through my mind of a hundred Imperial officers dying to hubris and the belief that their Star Destroyers were invincible.

At the rear section of the bridge, past the war room and its dominating holo table, my meeting room was already filled with the ranking officers of the fleet. Most were present as holograms - Admirals and Commodores of many different colors, and even a few senior Captains. Some had come to Hakassi from Crimson Command, more loyal to me than my wayward brother. Daivand and Minnau were among this number, ranking Admirals who now enjoyed positions of power within my fledgling state. Ghorst Minnau was the newly gazetted Moff of Ojom, homeworld of the Besalisk. The presence of crime syndicates made governing the world a challenge, though Minnau's purpose was largely focused on the mining operations we seized. Onhar Daivand meanwhile was a greybeard, a veteran of the Clone Wars and a determined proponent of the New Order. His loyalty was personal, as we had served together since my promotion to Admiral, but even then I needed to remain wary. For always was there the risk that the ISB or COMPNOR might use him to strike at me. The rest were newer faces, gathered either in my travels to the Deep Core or from the local forces. They were largely veterans, dead-enders pushed into the Deep Core because of one political fallout or another. Most were attracted by the promises of conquests and new glories, others because they had nowhere else to go in the desolate Deep Core.

Almost as one, they rose to salute me - the discipline drilled into them surviving even our mutiny against the Empire. I raised a hand and bade them to retake their seats before I claimed the empty chair at the table's head.

"I have been informed we are unaware of who is commanding this task force," I said without preamble as I took my seat, my words opening the floodgates for my officers to begin speaking.

"It is largely unimportant," The gruff Brentaalan Rear Admiral Zalin, his bushy gray mustache raising in me a momentary ire. It was the only feature he shared with the treasonous snake Pellaeon, yet even that was enough to earn my disdain - try though I might to keep my thoughts impartial, "The presence of a battlecruiser limits their options. They shall hold or they shall charge, unless they are idiots."

He was one such example of a "desperate officer", formerly the garrison commander of Ebaq before joining his ships to mine. His loyalty was born out of a lack of support, and my attitude was doing nothing to endear him to me.

"Blindness on your part does not represent a lack of options on theirs," Another Admiral spat, a consequence of my unexplained ire directed toward Zalin. The rest saw that as an opportunity to talk down a potential rival in my inner circle, an unfair assessment as Zalin had been nothing if not loyal, "They just as easily could use the battlecruiser as bait, or a distraction!"

"No right thinking Imperial would use an Allegiance as bait," Zalin rose to the insult on his intelligence, holographic fist slamming on the table in front of him, "Not one that sought to keep his head in any case!"

That was not necessarily true, Zsinj was a ready example of using a Super Star Destroyer as bait for the rebels - though that ship had already been destroyed, and the event in question had yet to happen. Still, I decided to intervene - pushing Zalin into dissent would only harm my position.

"Enough," My voice brought silence, Zalin and his opponent Nalle quickly sat back down in their chairs. I let the silence reign for a moment too long, enjoying the discomfort on Nalle's face as he adjusted. Finally, I spoke again, "I concur with Admiral Zalin, these loyalist dogs will not abandon their battlecruiser, not this far into the Deep Core. However, an element of caution will be considered as well. I shall lead the response fleet. Admirals Zalin and Daivand will join me. Nalle and Minnau, pull your forces back to Hakassi. If this is a trap, then I will not leave the core of my Empire to the tender mercies of these cowards."

"And we shall bait them in turn," Nalle seemed to realize, nodding his head so fast I worried it might fall from his neck, "Into attacking Ojom or Ottabesk."

"Precisely," I agreed, turning my attention back to the group, "Minnau shall have overall command of the forces here. If an attack comes at our other holdings, attack if practical. If it is impractical, then harass them - once Ebaq is secured, we will sweep south and support your efforts."

"As you command, Admiral," Minnau said with a bow, though I was unsure if his tone was glad to be free of Ojom for a time, or angered that he had to abandon his new fiefdom-within-a-fiefdom. Nalle seemed similarly annoyed, though more because of being relegated to a lower position in the defenses at Hakassi.

I dismissed most of them, barring Zalin and Daivand. Only when they, a younger Commodore, and a fourth Admiral remained did I continue the meeting.

"I selected you two for your proximity. We leave within the hour, ensure that your ships are ready for combat. I suspect the loyalists will not be eager to relinquish their hold so soon."

"Eight Star Destroyers against twelve, including a battlecruiser, are not good odds, Admiral." Daivand pointed out, tapping his fingers on the meeting table - the was sound muted by the hologram projector, "Even accounting for our advantage in small craft."

"The fleet was largely passive," The Commodore finally spoke up, wilting when all eyes fell on him. Still, he continued, "A formation fighter to the core… or the haste with which I retreated may have had a part to play."

"A haste well deserved!" The fourth Admiral, another veteran from the Clone Wars who was all but confined to a hoverchair such was his age. His voice was little more than a croak, yet filled with a passion absent in any of our number, "Now we have the advantage of reconnaissance and…"

He stopped to cough heavily, a dry sound that made me wonder if he would at last keel over. Alas, I was not so fortunate as the decrepit fossil continued.

"And speed!"

"Your enthusiasm is appreciated, Admiral Harrow." Daivand said with a pandering tone, though he showcased far more respect than Zalin and I were otherwise willing to give him.

"I have already begun to write up my plan, it will be forwarded to you upon our arrival," I said, cutting off any further derailing of the conversation, "Whether they are defensive or aggressive. Dismissed."