The New Imperium Part One: Peace With A Price Day Two 0330 hours SLIPS Command, above Coruscant "Well lookie here," Barth Lomaw rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He eyed the stocky young man still sitting at his post in the darkened room. "Bilks, what are you still doing up? Get some sleep." "Oh, I was, sir," Bilks looked up into his superior's unbelieving eyes. "Really, General. But a few minutes ago Outpost 31-19 started broadcasting to us again." Lomaw grunted. "Not a good sign. What do they have to say?" "Not good is right, sir. They're estimating over thirty new anomalies arriving at Typeria in the last six hours." "Damn." Lomaw ran his fingers through his thinning hair. "Give me a worst-case scenario." Bilks squinted at the glowing monitor for a moment. "Worst-case says that we have sixty-seven hostile ships orbiting a New Republic world." "Man, I'd hate to be in 31-19's shoes. In a few days they could be stuck in a war zone with only a single laser cannon and a self-destruct device for defense." "I believe that 31-19's problems should be the least of our worries at this moment, sir," Bilks said calmly, flipping through screen after screen of readouts and technical schematics. "And why is that?" Lomaw asked apprehensively, though he was sure he would rather not know. "Well you see, according to these stellar charts," Bilks' fingers jabbed at his monitor. "If these ships are hostile, then their position at Typeria gives them a straight shot at optimal combat jump distance to the shipyards at Kuat, Corellia, and Sluis Van." "Good God!" Lomaw exclaimed. "Three of the most important planets in the New Republic." Lomaw sat down on the edge of his bed and shook his head slowly. "General Rieekan's gonna pee his pants when he sees this." 1200 hours Coruscant Leia quietly sipped her iced tea. Despite having the best indoor enviromental controller in the galaxy, some of the stifling Coruscant summer air still leaked into the Imperial Palace. As she sipped, Behn-Kihl-Nahm entered the room and took his seat. And thusly, all the members of the Provisional Council were again sitting in one room for an emergency meeting. "Would you be so kind as to inform us why we are sitting here today, Madame President?" Borsk Fey'lya inquired, his tone the usual mix of confrontation, caution, and worry. "Well," Leia said, looking at the closed door behind her as if she could see through it, "I don't think General Rieekan has arrived yet. He was going to give us a presentation..." "Indulge us, please," Fey'lya leaned forwards in his chair. "Give us a preview. What may we expect?" Leia sighed, wishing she could forget all the worries the Typerian situation presented her with. "You may expect whatever you wish, Councilor. You'll learn more than you might wish you had in due time." Fey'lya sunk back into his chair, beaten for the moment. Leia drained the last of her iced tea out of her glass and set it down lightly on the table. A few long moments passed in tense silence. "Madame President," it was Alole's voice heard over the intercom, "General Rieekan is here by appointment." "Send him in," Leia said, then nodding towards Fey'lya. "Now you shall find out for yourself." The door opened and General Rieekan stepped in to the room, looking quite tall and handsome in the naval blues he wore. He walked uprightly to the front of the room and pulled into a stiff salute. "Reporting as ordered, ma'ams, sirs." "At ease, General," Leia said. "Its certainly good to see you." "Believe me, President Solo, the pleasure belongs to me and no other. I just wish we were meeting under kinder circumstances. Such as peace." When Leia nodded, he continued, sounding very much like the gruff commander which he was at heart. "Today you are to be briefed on a growing situation involving a New Republic world and craft of unknown origin." The General waited for the quick round of mutters and whispers to pass before speaking again. He pressed a button on his datapad and a holographic image of a planet sprang up from the floor of the room. "I'm sure you've all heard of Typeria and their so-called secession from the New Republic?" He paused for just a moment to watch heads nod before going on. "Well then, yesterday at one o' clock, our SLIPS organization received contacts of unknown ships orbiting a New Republic world, namely the said Typeria. "Now as you view this next image, bear in mind that each of the red dots you will see represents a ship or a close concentration of starfighters." He pressed a button on the datapad he held again. The image of Typeria was instantly framed perfectly by dozens of red dots. "Preposterous!" Borsk Fey'lya exclaimed. "Dozens of unknown ships just dropping in on a New Republic world overnight for no reason?" "Almost, Councilor," General Rieekan said, "but they didn't arrive overnight, as you say. They just appeared out of hyperspace all at once and surrounded the planet. And then started shooting civilian space traffic into dust." "In essensce, an attack on New Republic citizens!" Leia could scarcely breathe. That was something Admiral Ackbar hadn't told her last night. "Correct, ma'am. Reports are currently very sketchy, but civilian casualties may well number above two thousand." "Two thousand!" Fey'lya sputtered. "How?" "Well, it seems that on that same afternoon, the Typerian capital city of Hirscha was overthrown by force. One of our contacts there reported that their were even AT-ATs walking the streets before he was gunned down." Fey'lya glanced at Leia, one eyebrow raised. "You were right. I am learning more about this crisis than I wanted to." "It sounds like an Imperial infestation," Admiral Ackbar growled, a hint of menace in his voice. "This is truly difficult to believe," said Rattagagech, the thoughtful Elomin. "We have no proof that any hostilities have truly ever occurred." "Don't be stupid, man!" rumbled Kube Madre, the former Alliance Commando now head of the War Department. "If you are afraid of action, simply come out and say it." "Well, then," Rattagagech said huffily, "I would like to see hard-core proof of this ghost fleet's existence before we go to war with them, as you seem all too eager to do." "Bargaining never worked with the Imperials," Madre shot back. "And this situation sounds Imperial to me." "What this sounds like to you makes no difference to anybody!" Fey'lya said, jumping into the fray. The Bothan and former commando had been enemies ever since Madre had joined the Council eight months back. Madre grunted at Fey'lya and Rattagagech, stroking his chin thoughtfully. His voice sounded many times calmer than it had seconds before. "If we must delay our actions, I would rather it be for the completion of a useful task than it be to bicker with you two dunderheads." Madre looked inquisitively up at General Rieekan. "A recon mission, then?" Rieekan smiled. "You know me too well, sir. I've already scheduled one." "Not a Recon-X, though, I hope," Leia spoke thoughtfully. "The Yevethans ate those alive." "No, not a Recon-X," Rieekan said. "What will be leaving from Sluis Van in under an hour is, I think you'll agree, quite a bit different." 1230 hours Sluis Van It looked more biological than mechanical, in most respects. With a short, blunt nose, swept-back wings forming a "V" shape, and smoothly curving engine nacelles and bridge, the Scout Corvette MIRAGON was clearly marked as a Mon Calamarian brainchild. An incredibly shiny mirror finish made the MIRAGON almost impossible to sight visually, under any circumstances. All two hundred meters of ship was packed with sensor equipment of every way, shape, and form. Four large yet remarkably quiet sublight drives could send the ship forward at up to 65 MGLT. The Class One hyperdrive would propel the ship to its set destination in about thirteen hours. The weaponry on the MIRAGON was sparse yet more than satisfactory in protecting the Scout Corvette against most opponents it was likely to face during the duration of a mission. Four quad laser cannons were placed for maximum coverage around the bat-winged ship to defend it against starfighters and armed freighters. A single dual turbolaser turret sat on the spine of the MIRAGON for defense against other corvettes. If the Scout Corvette ran into anything much stronger than it was, the use of a single proton torpedo launcher in the nose of the craft with a ten missile magazine would be necessary. Since Scout Corvettes had never before been used in a possible hot zone, the MIRAGON's mission to Typeria would be the yardstick in measuring all future reconnaisance missions by the class of ship. That was all the ship's captain expected the MIRAGON's first mission would be remembered for. But then again, he had always had a knack for underestimating things. The Scout Corvette MIRAGON, all but invisible to the naked eye, hurtled into hyperspace and into history. 1345 hours Pilthari General Kenlamb Sha'hazar's deep frown slackened somewhat as the pink desert planet of Pilthari burst into reality in front of the 3rd Fleet as they abandoned hyperspace. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, deep in thought. "I only hope that we're not so late that they've left already," he said quietly to himself. Standing up in the bridge, he took command of the SCIMITAR's situation. "Helm, are the sensors picking up any ships out there?" He waited for a moment as the helmsman checked the forward and rear scan arcs. The helmsman spoke: "Empty, sir. All the ships of our fleet stretch out behind us, but the only object in front of us is Pilthari itself." Sitting down, Sha'hazar rapped his fingers on his knee. "Not good. Not good at all." He swore silently, letting none of the frustration raging in his mind manifest itself on his face. "Is there no hint of where they've gone?" "Nothing, sir. We're clear for twelve hundred kilometers ahead, all the way to the Piltharian atmosphere." Sha'hazar sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his pale blue hair. And then a string of flashes, like firecrackers in the night, burst into existance as far above Pilthari as the Scimitar was out from it. "Multiple new contacts at twenty-one thousand meters!" the Status Officer, Lieutenant Jeriden, called. "Battle stations!" Sha'hazar's words came out as a reflex after having been ambushed by enemy forces more than once. "Are the fighters in position?" "There's no need, sir." Lieutenant Jeriden sounded greatly relieved. "Those ships are from First Fleet." "First Fleet," Sha'hazar frowned. "This far out?" First Fleet generally performed patrol duties throughout the core worlds, which were over eighteen hours away via hyperspace. "Open up a com frequency with them." "They're already hailing us, sir," the helmsman replied. "Should I let them through?" "Of course, of course," Sha'hazar said as he lowered himself into the seat facing the bridge holoprojector. The craggy face and furred body of a Bothan snapped into focus. The face nodded gravely, acknowledging an equal. "General Sha'hazar, presumably," the face said in the somewhat feminine voice distinctive of the Bothan race. Sha'hazar thought, suspicion rising in his mind like a dark cloud. "That is correct. Pardon me, but I do not know your name." "General Kalmeen In'uiy," the face said, emotionless. "Executive Officer of the New Republic Fourth Fleet." The Omwati's mind raced. "I'm sorry, but our sensors show your ships to be from the First Fleet." "Aaaah," General In'uiy said, nodding slowly. "That would explain the suspicion I see in your eyes. These craft shipped were just recently shipped out to us from the First. I suspect that their records have not been updated yet." Kenlamb recomposed his face, hiding any emotion under a mask with a deep, thoughtful frown. "That does little to explain what you are doing here, General." The Bothan took a deep breath. "Some disturbing things have happened while your fleet was in hyperspace. It may take some time to explain fully, but your fleet may find itself in a hot zone in a few days, and these ships are to supplement your planetary assault force." "Interesting," Sha'hazar said. "I would appreciate it if you would take a shuttle over here and explain these happenings more fully." Coruscant 1400 hours The bell on the wall chronometer chimed its delicate signal on the passing of an hour. At that moment Leia was chewing on the final bite of a small plate of shrimp and noodles that had been served as a late lunch. Admiral Ackbar and Kube Madre were engaged in a deep conversation across the Provisional Council's table, while Fey'lya and Rattagagech listened. All the other members ate in silence, their minds gnawing away on the verbal bone General Rieekan had tossed them earlier in the day. Leia shut her eyes for a few brief moments. She swallowed the shrimp. In the time it took for the shrimp to travel from her mouth to her stomach, the entire atmosphere in the room was warped. Alole rushed into the room, soft footsteps carrying her to the holoscreen surprisingly fast. She flipped a switch and the unit flashed into life, and on the screen was a symbol that Leia should have recognized instantly if it weren't for a few noticeable changes. It was unmistakably the symbol of the Galactic Empire, redone in a dark, almost shimmering blue. The symbol was revolving slowly, with starlines rushing away from it to give the impression of great speed. Behind the symbol, a huge explosion was lighting up space, consuming fuel at a great rate, writhing and twisting. Leia recognized the explosion as that of the second Death Star flaring up above Endor. Borsk Fey'lya's eyes narrowed into slits as he stared at the screen. "What manner of fascist programming is this?" "Its the Empire," Kube Madre muttered, "with a twist, I would think." "Alole, what is this?" Leia asked. "Why is one of our Holovision networks putting this on?" Alole shook her head. "Because somebody paid for it." Typeria Same Time He was certainly not a dark man, as one might expect a man of his position to be. He was simply an ambitious man; and beginning today, those ambitions would start to pay off. Mattan Balao had formed the New Imperium almost sixteen years ago to the date. The Galactic Empire was dead, he had had the foresight to see that. The New Imperium was created to ensure the future: the Imperium would grow slowly, but once it matured, it would be unstoppable. Of course, he had never known then that the New Imperium would mature so quickly. He often laughed to himself as he remembered the foolish attempts of people such as Ysanne Isard, Admiral Daala, and Warlord Zsinj. Those three had been so wrong. Mattan Balao knew, as Thrawn and the Yevethans had, that sheer military might would never bring the New Republic to its knees. The military might help one reach dominance in the galaxy, but it was no more than that: a helper; a tool. To destroy the New Republic, Mattan Balao knew that he would first need to give them a reason to fear him. After tonight, they could fear him all they wanted. The lighting was perfect for the broadcast. It came both down from the ceiling and up from the floor, effectively masking Balao's features, making it appear that he was wrapped in a shroud of darkness. Of course, the New Republican government would never fall for such a simple camera trick, but it wasn't the government that Balao wanted to reach tonight. The citizens of the New Republic were vulnerable, and with this message Balao planned to strike at them in a way that neither starship, fighter, nor stormtrooper could ever do. The holocameras came on-line, and Balao knew that his image was now occupying the space where a slowly rotating Imperial symbol had been moments before. Balao tightened his features, cleared his throat, and began. "This is Mattan Balao, Supreme High Minister of the glorious New Imperium, speaking to the collective citizens of the Rebel Alliance - or the New Republic, as your leaders would have you call it." He worked hard throughout his discourse to keep his voice as cold, hard, and smooth as he possibly could. He did not even blink. He could not afford to show any signs of weakness or distraction. "We hail you from a planet that was formerly yours; namely the fortress planet of Typeria. They decided correctly to leave your crumbling government and join in allegiance with the real power in this galaxy: the New Imperium." Of course, very little of that was true. Typeria's secession from the New Republic was never official and had only been an announcement of what was to come. The official charter of secession was not to be filed for another week. The Typerians had not willfully submitted to the New Imperium rule, either. The coup had been bloody, though short; with the meager Typerian Defense Force being completely wiped out by legions of the Imperium's best troops. "Your government is weak - corruption and political infighting run rampant." That was true, though much exaggerated. "The New Imperium strives to bring back the peace, safety, and stability that the Empire offered." In Balao's mind, that statement was completely true. "In the coming weeks I can assure you, citizens of the New Republic, that your leaders will spread much propaganda about me and my cause. They will use such words as fascist, communistic, or even Imperial to describe the New Imperium. They may even stoop to trying to get you to believe that I am a clone of Emperor Palpatine. "None of that is true in the slightest. While the New Imperium may have a name similar to that of the Galactic Empire's New Order, its goals are not the same. While the New Order strove to enslave the galaxy, the New Imperium seeks only to provide the same stability for its citizens that the Empire once did." Inwardly, Mattan Balao sighed. The part of his speech that he disliked the most was over. He could never truly mean the horrible things that he had said about the New Order without repenting afterwards. "I am not a Palpatine clone. I will admit that I once was a devoted servant of the late Emperor, and stood for all the things that he did. But I saw the path he was leading the galaxy down and left the service of the Empire, instead devoting myself to designing my own government, one that is beneficial to all." Mattan Balao reminded himself. "In conclusion, I urge you, citizens of the New Republic. I urge you to not support your crumbling government. I urge you to stand against your corrupt leaders when they wish to go to war with the New Imperium. But most of all, I urge you to join the New Imperium and help usher in a glorious time of peace and prosperity for all the galaxy!" His voice had risen to a triumphant shout, now it lowered itself to a normal conversational level. "Thank you." The holocameras went off. Balao's transmission was over. He stood up and laughed. Pilthari 1445 hours General In'uiy's personal shuttle was on its back to his fleet from the SCIMITAR when the long-distance comlink in General Sha'hazar's personal quarters started insistently beeping. The general picked it up off the desk by his bed and absently flipped it open. "Hello?" he said gruffly, his mind preoccupied with other matters. Then, recognizing the face in the small comlink's viewscreen as the head of the War Department, he snapped to attention. "What is it, sir?" The man smiled - a natural smile, Sha'hazar knew. The lines in the weathered face were proof that it could smile easily, but there were also deep furrows below the corners of the mouth that hinted at the cruelty, anger, and almost animalistic desire for revenge that General Sha'hazar had seen in the man during the Omwati's three years serving under him as an Alliance Commando. "The name's Kube, Kenlamb, always has been." "Yes, I know, Kube. I just wasn't sure if you'd remember me." "How could you think that? We pulled off some pretty daring missions together in our time." Kube Madre's voice seemed distant for a few moments, as if recalling during conversation the events that the normally peaceful Kenlamb only dared to relive in his dreams. "I remember those missions, Kube. They make me feel lucky to be alive." "Me too. I was scared shitless at times on those missions, too, if you'll remember." "I'd rather not." Kenlamb always felt at ease when talking with this particular superior. "They quite often give me nightmares." Kube Madre chuckled good-naturedly before continuing in a more serious voice. "I'd love to reminisce some more with you, Kenlamb, but that's not why I called you." "I had a feeling that there was some reason behind your calling me," Kenlamb said. "Go on." "I assume that you've met General In'uiy by now?" "Yes. But Kube, can I trust him?" "No. He's only with you because of his distant relation to Borsk Fey'lya. Do not trust him. But do make use of his resources, his ships. You'll need them." "And why is that?" "I'll be transmitting the total story to you right after we're done talking." "Fill me in - just what is it that we're talking about here?" "Its rather lengthy to explain. Suffice to say that the report I'm sending you contains all the vital information on a group of radical idealists called the New Imperium. They're operating in your fleet's sector, and it's very likely that they could be a danger to your longevity." "Oh my." Kenlamb truly wasn't that surprised. Kube Madre only made personal calls when something big was going on. "Oh my is right." Kube Madre's voice fell to a harsh stage whisper. "Also included are a few personal suggestions from me on how to handle this New Imperium's goons when you first come in contact with them." Kenlamb smiled wryly. "I suppose, knowing you as I do, that you are talking about what formation I should have the fleet in and where I should deploy my fighters and the like." "Exactly," Kube Madre said. "Believe me; from what I've heard, this New Imperium won't go down without a fight. You listen to those suggestions or you'll find your ship turned into the brightest and hottest crematorium in the galaxy. You got it?" "Of course I'll listen to what you say, Kube. Have I ever failed you before?" "No, you haven't. Just don't start now." Coruscant 1500 hours Kube Madre re-entered the Provisional Council's room, returning from wherever it was he had been for the past fifteen minutes. Knowing the man somewhat from what she'd learned of him secondhand from Han while he and his commando team escorted them on Endor, she decided not to rile him further than the New Imperium broadcast already had. From what Han had said, Kube Madre was a very disciplined soldier, except when it came to two things: IFF Codes and overly inquisitive people. Kube was an excellent statistician and an even better soldier, but he was not a diplomat or an interviewee. "The rock is rolling down the hill now," the former commando quipped, standing up at the head of the room. "It will reach the bottom whether we want it to or not. We can only hope that it does not crush us all before its momentum dies." "What do you mean?" Fey'lya implored, a cruel edge on his voice. There was no love lost between the Bothan and the human. "What I mean is this," Madre sounded as if he were a teacher speaking to a young and not-so-bright student. "That this New Imperium has singled us out to start a war with. By simply hearing their message today, we have accepted their terms. The war will come, we can only hope that we can win it and still come out of the tangle whole." Admiral Ackbar nodded. "An excellent analogy, Councilor." Leia felt the despair of being forced into a painful political corner without warning welling up inside her. She spoke calmly, but her voice was laced with something that none of the other Councilors could quite grasp. "I hate to think of what that corvette might find when it reaches Typeria." ===================================================================== THE NEW IMPERIUM: PART ONE: PEACE WITH A PRICE story by Greg Schutz send questions\comments to: crazy8@wnclink.com This is only DAY TWO of this story. It isn't over yet -- this story will have ten days. Feel free to post this story wherever you so desire, as long as it is posted in its entirety. ===================================================================== DISCLAIMER: I, Greg Schutz, hereby state this: that my work, The New Imperium: Peace With A Price, is not breaking any current copyright laws; that I am not using this work to collect money for possession; and that this work is based on characters and\or situations that are copyright protected by Lucasfilms LTD. This story is for entertainment purposes only.