Pellaeon
The Chimera lived up to its name as a cruiser, aimlessly cruising around the Outer Rim without orders and without a specific destination. After the Battle of Endor, they first fled to Kuat to receive further instructions, but the death of the Emperor acted as a catalyst. Much faster and more relentlessly than they could have ever imagined, new fronts and revolts broke out all over the Empire, devouring their ships and resources. The Executer fell, and then the Terror, and shortly afterwards, at short intervals, the Alpha Star and the Aggressor. Pellaeon had been present at the Battle of Jakku, at Kashyyk and Corellia. But even if he was able to save his Star Destroyer and his crew, their courage and sacrifice did not change the Empire's massive, unstoppable loss of ground to the Rebel Alliance, which now called itself the New Republic. The last official order of the Council of Moffs, who were trying to hold together the remaining empire that had been pushed back to the Outer Rim and the Unknown Regions, was the declaration of Scorched Earth. Martial law now applied to all sectors and every system leader, governor, captain and general had to fend for themselves how he and his men could survive the mighty storm that was relentlessly breaking over them. Pellaeon helped Treuten Teradoc evacuate the troops from Malastar and Nklon when the rebel armada broke through their blockades, but due to the betrayal of Axulon Jhet they were trapped and lost many good men and almost three dozen ships. Finally the High Admiral fled back to the Core and went into hiding. Moff Gideon managed to establish a new council shortly after the Battle of Mustafar with himself as general commander and Anoth as a provisional base, but the council had already been hiding in Wild Space for over three years. He moved from planet to planet with his modest fleet of splinter fragments from various squadrons. They supported partisans and criminal syndicates on Republican worlds to stop their advance, but they had little to oppose the mighty war machine.
"I fear the Empire is lost. Long live the Empire." Gideon had told him.
"Long live the Empire." Pellaeon repeated, still loyal to his duty.
"But Sire, what you are saying is very dangerous. Ignorance and confusion inflict deeper wounds than even the Death Star." Pellaeon warned him. Gideon had called the older captain to his solar panel on the Elrek Station. The wide viewing window in front of which he stood made it seem as if he was standing directly in front of the abyss of empty space without any protection, his hands clasped behind his back. The panorama of the asteroid swarm in which they were hiding was incredible, a cold, frosty beauty. On the left side of his belt he wore the Dark Sabber, the Mandalorian ancestral sword.
"These are dangerous times, the Empire is now just a loose patchwork of vassal states, flying outposts and renegade squadrons spread across the Outer Rim." He said monotonously.
"We really did not expect this massive frontal attack." He admitted, forced to admit, furrowing his brow.
"But what has been destroyed and burned can be resurrected. After enough time has passed, of course." The feared and celebrated conqueror of Mandalor had been one of their best tacticians and leading statesmen, but he too seemed powerless to Pellaeon in the face of this growing catastrophe. That could scare a younger, less experienced man, but Pellaeon had already seen far too much of the war for anything to scare him now.
"Is there any news from the 83rd Fleet yet?" The 83rd Fleet under Rae Sloanna had fled after Gallius Rax's defeat in the Battle of Jakku along with their Super Star Destroyer Eclipse.
"According to the report, Rae Sloana led the Eclipse deep into the Unknown Regions, for whatever purpose." Pellaoen reported to him.
"Rumors are circulating that Sloanna murdered Rax with her own hand when the battle was already lost and he vehemently refused to order the retreat." He added after a brief hesitation.
"Not impossible, Jakku was beyond saving, Gallius' overzealousness senselessly cost many of our men their lives. Men we could really use now." Gideon said.
"The Eclipse's signal is lost as soon as they reach the outskirts, all radio contact has remained unanswered to date." He continued reading from his datapad.
"It will stay that way, Captain, the difficult conditions and space eruptions of the Terra of the Unknown Regions make establishing communication virtually impossible." Said the Moff.
"Should I have reconnaissance aircraft follow them further?" Pellaeon suggested, a super star destroyer and a few more cruisers could bring about a change in the war.
"No, we don't have the means to do that, especially since there is no guarantee that the Eclipse will even survive or is still willing to help us. Sloanna probably simply recognized the signs of the times and fled with her units to carve out her own empire from the carcass of the Empire, that seems to be in vogue these days among admirals and Grand Moffs." Gideon said sharply, alluding to the ever-growing list of warlords in the Outer Rim who have declared themselves emperors of their renegade sectors and have now made peace with the Republic and the rest of the Empire, or not.
"I'm afraid at this distance Sloanna wouldn't be able to reach us in time anyway," Pellaeon said.
"I agree with your assessment, Captain, so we need to save what is left of the Empire. With the army we have and not with the one we would like to have." Gideon activated the strategy table next to him in the spacious solar, onto which a map of the southern edge was projected.
"We are spreading our forces over a larger area, which will make reconnaissance and pursuit more difficult for the rebels. I will lead the Mephisto and the rest of the Arato squadron further west, Captain Norudh will move north and secure the Hydian Strait with three cruisers. You yourself will lead the Chimera west." Gideon ordered.
"And to what point should we advance, Sire?" Asked Pellaeon.
"From Dosuun onwards, that will be their own decision. It is better if the individual commanders do not know too much about each other's exact instructions. That way, in the event of capture or betrayal, they cannot reveal sensitive information about the other divisions." Gideon said.
"Norudh is a good commander, but with only three cruisers he won't be able to hold off the Republic's armada for very long, Sire." Pellaeon said.
"That's true, Captain, but every day he wins us is another day to lick our wounds and look for new defense posts." Gideon said.
"And if one of our divisions falls into a trap or needs help in some other way?" Pellaeon asked further.
"You have to save yourself. Make no mistake, Captain, the rest of the Empire is actually only controlled and commanded by you and me. Sow resistance in the ranks of the defected industrial and working worlds. Sand in the gears won't stop the New Republic, but it will remind them that we're still here and make it harder for them to determine where the next big blow will come from." Gideon said.
Ever since they left Anoth, Pellaeon had doubted whether this great blow to reconquer the Empire and subjugate the rebels would ever happen, and this feeling of doubt and hopelessness grew with every passing day that they crossed the Outer Rim. First, Pellaeon decided to head for the swamp, then on to Rattatak, past the battlefield of their greatest and ultimately devastating defeat at Endor. Pellaeon could literally feel the sight of this system shattering his crew's morale, so he gave the order to head for the next planet. They gave the local tribal chiefs and clan leaders education, training and armament to wage an underground war against those suspected of collaboration. On Rattatak, Pellaeon negotiated with the local lords, offering them weapons and the opportunity to raid other worlds for their clans in exchange for their best warriors to serve the Empire as mercenaries. The Rattatak were some of the best and fiercest fighters in the entire galaxy, Count Dooku of the Separatists had already recognized this and had been looking for recruits for his army here. Even if they were unfamiliar with the use of modern firearms, they did not lack determination or the will to learn. A little time, training and endurance and they would be impressive soldiers, he thought, but a few companies more or less could hardly make the decisive difference in the fight against the rebels. They flew over Codian Moon without further ado, Pellaeon took a big risk when he steered the Chimera deeper into the heart of the galaxy and even commanded a small raid on Phu. His new fighters were to gain experience and get used to the taste of blood.
They captured several tons of coaxium and valuable perennial supplies to survive the next long journey without rest. Pellaeon took an almost greater risk when he set his ship on course for Chiss territory in the faint hope of finding help from these powerful and, if strange, beings in the Unknown Regions. But even in the time of the Emperor, the Chiss had preferred to conclude a non-aggression pact with the most powerful lords of the rest of the galaxy in order to maintain their peace and neutrality. They spent almost four months on Csilla, where they were able to take a closer look at some of their war techniques and weapon systems. The Chiss always kept one eye on the core of the galaxy and pulled a few strings here and there to spread chaos and confusion so that no ruler would feel strong and powerful enough to challenge them at some point and thus disturb their sovereignty, which they considered almost sacred. But even their hospitality came to an end at some point, and they certainly had no trace of Rae Sloanna or her Eclipse. Pellaeon led the Chimera back south, this time tilted further towards the edge so as not to cross the path of the Republic's scouts and reconnaissance. He found little sleep in his cabin and spent endless sessions poring over the maps of this little-known and hardly badly mapped part of the galaxy. They heard no reports from Gideon, but Norudh had finally fallen after a seven-week siege and his fleet was completely destroyed. The Chimera was now probably the last Star Destroyer in the Empire. The last battleship. A good captain goes down with his ship, he thought over a glass of 49' Cimbak wine.
"The Empire once stretched to the edges of the known universe and even a little beyond. Its word was law. Its currency was strong. Its judgment respected and its armies feared. Now it seems to me that the extent of its domain is limited to the size of this cruiser." said Ludon Versk, his adjutant and friend from a hundred or more battles. He stood behind him and took a comfortable position after Pellaeon returned his salute. He hardly had any hair on his head, if any, it was brittle, grey and dull. His face was stern, but had friendly features when he smiled, which he did unusually often for an Imperial officer.
"It only seems that way because it is. The Chimera is our best ship and it is our last." Palleon replied weakly and tore himself away from the holomap. He also offered him a glass, which Ludon accepted gratefully.
"49'er?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Very good." Ludon said and took a long swig.
"What are we still doing all this for?" he asked weakly and rubbed his furrowed temples. He was tired and had been for many years. He just wanted to sleep and find peace. He was an old man, he certainly deserved it.
"You remember that I took a young Marshall under my wing in the second battle of Xandur? His name was Terenc Loth. He was afraid, his concern was justified. Do you think his name is recorded in any republican archives? Do you think he is remembered on the Tablet of Heroes? Do you think he and his brothers and sisters are mentioned in any prayers? No, they are not, you only die when you are forgotten and the whole universe has forgotten them, all except us. But if we perish, let them go down with us, then we are the ones who killed Terenc Loth and his brothers and sisters." Ludon said in a deliberate voice and then suddenly grinned at him with unexpected cheek.
"What are you planning?" Asked Pellaeon, who knew very well how to interpret his expression.
"One of our scouts intercepted a message from the Thals. A small fleet of Ssi-ruuk cruisers is roaming the edge of their empire, hunting for prey." The Ssi-ruuk had fallen into a period of internal unrest and archaic civil wars after their last attempts at expansion. The Chiss attack in revenge for their invasion of their own empire had broken the lizards' backs but not their necks. Their fleet was now looking for primitive worlds to enslave their populations in order to keep their own civilization alive.
"I have a plan on how we can intercept and capture the four ships without suffering major losses." Ludon said and explained his plan to him.
"No, I can't do that. Don't ever offer me something like that again. I'm calling for reinforcements." He said with a look of stunned disdain and at the same time contempt.
"There are no reinforcements." He said calmly.
"Then we'll just find a way to take them on ourselves." Pellaeon said.
"There isn't one either." Ludon replied just as calmly as before.
"I will not implement your plan. That is my final word." Pellaeon said.
"Good, then I can finish speaking in peace. We have dedicated our lives to the Empire. And we have say, all of us, what is left of it now but ashes and dust? Old, worn-out men who should have been dead long ago and green children wearing the oversized uniforms of their parents and grandparents. Brave yes, they carry the banners of the Empire high, sing their songs but they do not understand the euphoria and devotion of their predecessors. They imitate them faithfully, but to be worthy of their legacy they must make up for the mistakes of past heroes. Please, my old friend, allow me to end my life as a soldier of the Empire. Give me a discarded freighter, a garbage ship if I have to, I will choose the crew myself from volunteers." Ludon asked him, and who was Pellaeon to deny a doomed man his last wish?
"Long live the Empire." Was Pellaeon's answer.
"Long live the Empire." He repeated. Then they toasted one last time. The next day, Pellaeon granted his request, and Ludon led a smaller, expendable freighter with a good forty-two volunteers out into the outskirts of the Ruukian Empire. The Chimera stayed behind and tracked its course using a tracking device placed in the ship, well hidden. All of the Empire's badges and emblems had been carefully removed, so that the freighter looked like a simple ship of completely unknown and completely insignificant origin. Pellaeon looked long after Ludon and many of his most experienced men who accompanied him on his last mission, some of whom had taken their oath alongside Pellaeon and he would never see a single one of them again. He knew this and so did the rest of the crew, which is why unease and doubt spread behind him in the surrounding rows and took root like weeds.
"Sire, please forgive me, but what is the point of sacrificing some of our oldest and most experienced officers to play decoy in a battered container ship?" Cronix, his aide and pilot, asked in a shaky voice.
"They will cross the Ssi-ruuk's route and be captured by them. They will all be engineered to serve as fuel for the cruisers and set course back to Lhwekk. They will have to exit hyperspace three times to change course and to dump garbage. Here, here and here." Pellaeon made marks on the space map of the border area between the Lizard Empire and the Outer Rim around the contested world of Bakura.
"This is the last point before they re-enter their home sector and here we will find them stranded and unable to maneuver." Pellaeon said and placed another mark on the map.
"How do you know that for sure, Sire?" asked the young man who hadn't even celebrated his twentieth birthday yet.
"Because the ships will be infected by then, because every man there is terminally ill. This old freighter is not bait, it is a plague ship, every man there is physically infected with disease and decay and that will also affect the cruisers' systems when they mechanize the men. We just have to collect our loot then," said Pellaeon. Ludon had already told him on Csilla that he would not be with them until next year, even the best Chiss doctors could no longer help him, too many old war wounds that seemed to be taking their long overdue toll at the same time or one after the other. But Ludon, like many of her friends, did not want to die coughing up blood in bed like a couple of old men, they wanted to die as soldiers on the battlefield for the glory and fame of the Empire. To fill the enemy with terror one last time, to earn reputation and the respect of the next generation one last time. Pellaeon would personally ensure that Ludon's last maneuver and all its participants would receive a place of honor in the chronicles of the Empire.
"For what? What can four unmaneuverable cruisers that are not designed to our proportions do? These reptiles are huge and their systems are very sophisticated." Cronix asked him warningly.
"It's not about the ships themselves, it's about the mirror shields. The ability to destroy an entire fleet with just one ship without its own weapons." Pellaeon said and continued to stare out of the bridge's viewport. The freighter had already disappeared into hyperspace and was on its last command.
"Long live the Empire." Said the captain and the crew on the bridge joined in.
"Long live the Empire!" Because it was far from dead and buried as many might have thought.
