SWR: Empire Ascendant

[Ceorl]

Author's Note: This story is still in the draft stages and posting at this point is to, hopefully, ellict feedback. I would also appreciate anyone who conducts a peer edit. Let me know what you think.

 

"Let them hate, as long as they fear"

 

Chapter 1: Original Ambition

 

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You will help me to... negotiate

 

Imperial Senate

Seswenna Sector, Coruscant

Before the Battle of Yavin

 

Above the rows of assembled senators an image of the Emperor, old, disfigured and half hidden underneath the folds of a black hood, flickered to life on display boards suspended above the central podium.

 

"This is a dangerous time for the Empire," he spoke in a terse, measured tone. "Treasonous acts by disloyal elements threaten to undermine our government.

 

But we will not allow a few malcontents to disturb galactic prosperity! In order to ensure swift and decisive action we are absolving the Imperial Senate of its duties for the duration of this crisis.

 

Order will be maintained. To that end regional governors now have direct control of their sectors. Work with them to bring an end to this insurrection."

 

The holovid screen faded to black and the chair motioned for recess.

 

---

 

With the crowd a middle aged, balding man left the senatorial chamber.

 

"An indefinite recess, Ceorl," a nearby Sullustan said in resignation as they descended a flight of steps. "I have never heard of such an action."

 

"Palpatine does not temporize." Ceorl Page replied, his nasal high tone carrying above the low murmur of the crowd. "I warned you the sedition within the Senate would destroy our mandate."

 

A nearby senator grimaced. "The conflict will only tighten the Emperor's control over the bureaucracy," he said, to which Ceorl nodded.

 

"We will survive," the Sullustan commented. "SoroSuub still wants a representative within the government; if not as a senator then in another capacity." He looked keenly towards Ceorl. "You knew this could happen weeks ago didn't you?"

 

Ceorl gave a thin smile.

 

The Sullustan frowned. "Given your talent for landing on your feet, where are you going?" he asked.

 

"The Senate is finished and its rebels are doomed. Democracy is dead." Ceorl replied. "I reenlisted weeks ago."

 

Imperial Palace

Seswenna Sector, Coruscant

After the Battle of Yavin

 

Coruscant: the endless city, beacon of humanity and Empire's heart, boasted tens of thousands of skyscrapers, billions of lives, and, literally above all, the Imperial Palace, an immense complex of cold gray steel and polished serpentine. Within its walls technicians and officers hurried down corridors. An ant hill overturned. Into this chaos Ceorl stood before his superior.

 

Bin Essada sat behind a desk, eyes immersed in bureaucratic details. It took several minutes before he deigned to notice Ceorl.

 

A fat middle aged near-human with light brown hair and a high forehead accented by a sharp widow's peak, Essada smirked when he looked up, "It is good to see you arrived promptly. I expected procrastination."

 

Ceorl saluted. "As you know, sir, this is not the Senate."

 

Essada's lips twitched slightly. "Captain, what can you tell me about Balmora?"

 

Ceorl paused briefly in thought. "A free market factory world whose people are opportunistic and disloyal. Their senators caused endless grief in debate," he finally replied.

 

"Good, your past dealings may prove useful to me."

 

Ceorl's eyebrows arched. "What is the assignment, sir?" he asked.

 

Essada rose and walked over to a nearby viewport. "With the destruction of the Death Star, many systems have had the termnity to either stop responding to Imperial procurement requests or publically declare for the Rebel Alliance.

 

We currently can do little about the insurrectionists, but I have been ordered to bring the fence striders back within the Empire. Balmora's military industrial complex has recently halted weapons production and I mean to put them back on schedule.

 

I cannot abide these politicians but neither do I have the military assets to administrate the retributional justice they so richly deserve. You will help me to... negotiate," he ground out the last word.

 

"Of course, sir" Ceorl said smiling.

 

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Personal Log:

 

I now know where my son is. I shouldn't be surprised. He did take after his mother more. Judder is still officially listed AWOL but, knowing him, his defection will become spectacularly apparent.

 

I should be concerned for my career, but all I can think of is his Academy graduation. Judder dressed in a crisply pressed cadet's uniform with an eager smile.

 

My son does not realize the rebels' ideology will be their undoing. All men lose heart, all men betray, and when the Empire capitalizes on these failings the rebels carefully spun lies between species who cannot live together, let alone stand each other, will be torn apart.

 

I shall try to keep track of him.

Edited December 15, 2008 by Ceorl

[VinBadir]

I like it, especially the Senate scene, very cool!

[Ceorl]

Thanks, oh and now with screenshots to help tell the story

[Ceorl]

Chapter 2: Imperial Diplomacy

 

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Commonwealth Building

Seswenna Sector, Balmora

Day 12

 

Essada slammed a meaty fist down on the conference table.

 

"No, that will not do councilman. Either you obey my gubernatorial decree or you are in violation of Imperial law."

 

The Balmoran representative, a thin mouse of a man, spread his hands. "Governor, while the ST factory workers strike it is impossible to meet your production quotas."

 

"Then you shall force them to produce," Essada demanded.

 

The Balmoran scratched his brown beard. "How?" he asked rhetorically. "The police and militia will break the strike. And if you had stormtroopers with you we would not be having this conversation."

 

"The strikers' demands are unacceptable to the central government," Ceorl interjected. "The Emperor's declaration of martial law makes this protest illegal and we need you to make this plain to the union."

 

"Then, with no offense, I suggest you, not me, bring that law up with the union. Strikes have been an accepted practice on Balmora for centuries."

 

"The fact that I am here speaking with you is negotiation enough," Essada said as he heaved his bulky frame up. "Tell these traitors that they'd best get back to their jobs or face the might of Imperial justice."

 

Ceorl also rose and both men departed while the councilman remained sitting, scratching his beard.

 

"That was not terribly negotiable, sir" Ceorl said as the pair entered the corridor.

 

"That sycophant is of little use to us," Essada said disgustedly. "The Emperor instructed me to not tolerate anyone in defiance of Imperial will."

 

"Any action against the strikers will be construed negatively by the populace," Ceorl cautioned. "And we lack the forces for an occupation."

 

"I know," Essada said, momentarily halting and forcing Ceorl to a jittering stop. "You saw combat during the Clone Wars."

 

"Yes sir," Ceorl said, answering the rhetorical question.

 

"Good, good." a greasy smile crossed Essada's lips. "A squad of Imperial commandos waits in case of such an impasse. While I debate with our intractable friends, take them and capture the leader of this labor dispute. His arrest will send a message that we cannot be kowtowed."

 

Ceorl's hazel eyes narrowed. "I shall take your leave, sir, and prepare the operation." As he began to walk away, Essada caught him by the shoulder.

 

"Remember I want him alive," he said sweetly.

 

Trace Residence, Balmora

Day 17

 

A cargo transport glided to a stop in front of a two story skyrise apartment. Two mercenaries guarded the front door.

 

"I don't remember any deliveries for today," one grumbled as the transport's panel door slid open. Crimson laser bolts lashed out, immediately dropping the man to the concrete, clutching his belly. The second guard drew his weapon as a beam hit his face, killing him instantly.

 

"Nice shot," the commando sergeant, a grizzled cloner, said to Ceorl as he holstered his pistol.

 

"Luck," Ceorl admitted, a shiver of thrill shooting up his spine.

 

The sergeant gave a jagged smile and quickly exited the transport with six troopers. Using hand signals the men stacked against the door as the sergeant removed a keypass from the dead guard. Sliding the key into the door, a green light flashed, and the commandos moved in, slicing the pie as three cut left while three others cut right.

 

Energy blasts lighted the room as two guards fired from a second story balcony while another used an upturned table as cover. A commando went down, howling, while a guard pitched over the balcony, crashing into a glass table. Another guard fell and the final one quickly threw down his blaster rifle.

 

"Not worth dying for," he spat as he raised his arms in surrender.

 

Ceorl entered the room as the commandos secured their prisoners.

 

"Three dead, one captured and one wounded," the sergeant said of the enemy. "Seven-six is hurt but he will pull through."

 

"Good work," Ceorl said amicably. "See to it that the wounded are treated and secure the building. I want Edward Trace alive."

 

"Yes sir," the sergeant responded. He detailed a single trooper to guard the room and another to secure the entrance while the rest fanned out into the adjoining quarters.

 

---

 

A few minutes later, an older man dressed in a nightgown was unceremoniously dumped before Ceorl. Edward Trace took a moment to look around his parlor room turned battlefield.

 

Ceorl wasted no more time. "By order of Sector Governor Essada, Edward Trace you and your family are now in Imperial custody. I should not need to make clear that you will insure the loyalty of the union workers. Failure to comply will cause 'hardships' for those dependant on you."

 

Trace looked numb.

 

"Remember that tonight's action spared lives" Ceorl continued. "If the Emperor places the planet under military control we will spare no measure to reestablish order."

 

"What do you want from me?" Trace finally grumbled.

 

"A statement ordering the workers to resume production; once we have you safely to Coruscant. You have," Ceorl checked his chronometer, "five minutes to gather your belongings."

 

The Daily Planet

Front Page Report

Day 18

 

"Last night, Rebel agitants attempted to abduct Edward Trace, head of the Balmora Union Labor movement. Imperial Commandos foiled the plot and later escorted Mr. Trace off planet for consultation with the Central Committee on Coruscant.

 

'It was a near thing,' Captain Page, adjutant to Sector Moff Bin Essada, told reporters. 'Rebel operatives posed as security personnel and we were forced to kill several during the rescue.'

 

Documents later released show Calixan Randles, a longtime members of Mr. Trace's security detail, as a known Rebel sympathizer. His apparent plan was to agitate the labor movement by making the abduction appear to be an Imperial plot.

 

'At this point we are still investigating what occurred,' Police Commissioner Baniss Keeg said in a prepared statement. 'We would ask that residents remain calm and await further developments.'

 

Despite a police curfew in effect, protests are being held demanding Edward Trace's return."

Edited December 15, 2008 by Ceorl

[Ceorl]

Chapter 3: Riptides...

 

Page Residence, Coruscant

Day 57

 

Fading sunlight filtered past high-rises while Ceorl wrote in his study.

 

"My reassignment couldn't have come sooner. Two months with Bin Essada is two months stuck with a wampa loose in a starship. Granted the man is effective. Only a week after Trace's abduction passed before the Balmorans caved to his demands. But I could not stand his hubris; a demi-human with delusions of grandeur. Last I heard that odious tub is bluffing, threatening, and bribing his way towards Yaga Minor's obedience.

 

My thoughts still linger over the Rebel fleet that attacked Coruscant shortly after my return. An audacious plan, yet three transports and an escort carrier were hardly a match for the Imperator class Majestic and Coruscant's TIE squadrons. Their flight back into hyperspace was swift.

 

The indecision in reassigning me is also a source of frustration, especially in light of the Rebels' new found aggression. I was told Intelligence had the matter well in hand, tracking all potential hyperspace trajectories, and I was not needed. But traitors are like kath hounds. Once they have caught the scent they will not relent until something is brought down. So I spoke with several of Palpatine's sycophants, telling them my concerns and of my ability to do something about them.

 

Within three days the same Rebel fleet 'liberated' Balmora. The brazen attack was celebrated by Balmoran unionists as a triumph over Imperial oppression. But the fear Essada planted has grown deep roots and the "liberators" now find themselves stuck maintaining a military presence to assuage concern over Imperial retribution.

Their destruction could help the galaxy forget the loss of one space station..."

 

A communication chime sounded. "Go ahead," Ceorl answered.

 

"Captain Ceorl Page," an operator back at Imperial Command said, "you've been summoned by the Emperor. A transport will be arriving at your residence in fifteen standard minutes."

 

Ceorl smiled. "Understood," he replied.

 

"Recognition at last." he concluded his data entry. "In these dark times, I may still profit from others' folly."

 

Imperial Palace, Coruscant

Day 57

 

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At the highest point in the palace, a long rectangular room shrouded in black, Palpatine sat in his dias, looking through a large layered window below at the city.

 

Escorted by several crimson clad guardsmen into a smaller anteroom, Ceorl suddenly he felt a shock staff strike his back. Electric pain lanced his body and darkness engulfed his vision.

 

A dull rhythmic pain signaled his return to conscious thought. Two guards were holding him upright before the Emperor.

 

"Ceorl Page, you have served me well," Palpatine, standing no more than a foot away, said.

 

Ceorl, disoriented and injured, could only vacantly nodded.

 

"As a staunch advocator of my agenda," the Emperor continued, "and a devoted naval officer. However your son's defection calls your loyalty into question."

 

"Judder," Ceorl muttered.

 

"Do you care for him?" Palpatine asked, his yellow, animalistic eyes stripping the truth away.

 

"Yes," Ceorl answered quickly, surprising himself.

 

"A pity, then I cannot trust you," Palpatine gestured to his guards who released Ceorl, unceremoniously dumping him to the ground. "Still I have high hopes for you," Palpatine said as he ascended to his throne. "But to insure your loyalty you must be taught service has a price."

 

Suddenly Judder stood before Ceorl, bound and kneeling. A guard handed Ceorl a blaster pistol.

 

"Kill him," the Emperor commanded.

 

Ceorl did nothing.

 

"Kill him and assure your place among my elite," Palpatine's shrill voice bore into Ceorl's skull. He picked up the pistol but did not fire.

 

"He is a traitor to everything you have fought for. Kill him."

 

Ceorl tried to rise to his knees but only managed to sink into a kneeling stance. "Wait..." he mouthed, fighting for time.

 

A shock stick pressed against the back of his scalp.

 

"Kill or be killed!" the Emperor commanded.

 

As Ceorl felt staff's electric current begin to enter, frying synapses, plunging him back into darkness, he fired.

 

The energy beam sliced cleanly through Judder, leaving a gaping hole in his chest. Without noise Judder toppled and vanished, a figment or an illusion Ceorl could not tell. Into the stillness, Palpatine began to laugh.

 

"Good, good," he cackled as Ceorl slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

Imperial Palace

Day 59

 

Commander Page together with two Imperial officers, Commander Brandei and Colonel Grammel, stood before Emperor Palpatine.

 

"While Lord Vader is away it falls to you three to remove the taint infecting Balmora." Palpatine said, turning his chair towards the men below. "Their punishment will be a message to the rest of the galaxy."

 

"As you will, my lord," Grammel said, bowing.

 

"We will not allow chaos to seep back into the Empire. Like a wound, Balmora must be cleansed. To that end, I will dispatch the Star Destroyer Majestic to retake Balmora. Admiral Brandi will oversee the Imperial Navy task force and General Grammel will lead the counter-attack."

 

"Thank you my lord," both men chorused.

 

Palpatine turned to face Ceorl.

 

"See to it that COMPNOR's inquisition is ruthless," he said, eyes narrowed in boundless anger.

 

"Thank you, Emperor" Ceorl replied.

 

"Our message must be clear. Do not fail me," Palpatine intoned as he turned his chair, and his attention, back towards the skyline.

 

The three men bowed and made their way out of the throne room, keeping their faces toward the Emperor. As Ceorl entered the antechamber he couldn't chase away a feeling of cold despair, like a half-forgotten nightmare, from his visit.

Edited December 16, 2008 by Ceorl

[Ceorl]

Author's Note: Plug, plug, plug. For years I always wanted to do a Rebellion fanfic but never bothered due to lack of a good place to post it. Good thing I found this site for dweebs like myself.

 

Chapter 4: ... and Repercussion

 

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Bridge

Star Destroyer Majestic, Balmora

Day 62

 

As the Majestic decelerated from subspace its narrowly tapered command deck shifted from a blue tinged blur into focus. Feeling nauseous, Ceorl fought down the urge to retch.

 

"Tactical, status report," Admiral Brandi, a short, thin technocrat whose narrow brown eyes revealed a no nonsense attitude, barked as the bridge staff recovered from the space time travel.

 

"Sensors are coming online, Admiral." the tactical officer said, eyes fixed to his display. Captain Wellington, commander of the Majestic and the fleet's executive officer, walked over to view the incoming images as well.

 

"There is nothing in orbit above Balmora," Wellington reported. "I'd still recommend launching two TIE Squadrons as a protective measure."

 

Brandi nodded his assent. "Helm put us in a geosynchronous orbit over the planet," he ordered as Wellington donned a headset to notify the hanger bay. "Tactical dispatch probe droids to the surface."

 

Ceorl observed Wellington's staff respond with latent respect. The size and scope of the Majestic's operations dwarfed his stint as a cruiser's logistics officer. Through the bridge's plexiglass window Ceorl watched TIE fighters swarm protectively around the Majestic while descending probe droids left red streaks in Balmora's atmosphere.

 

General Grammel rose from his observation chair and walked over to converse with Brandi. He motioned for Ceorl to join them.

 

"Inquisitor," Grandi beamed at Ceorl with a smile that barely creased his mouth. "The Rebels will not defend Balmora from orbit and the planet lacks a protective shield system," the faint smile left Grammel's face replaced by a vapid, cruel looking expression on his pudgy face. "An orbital bombardment with the Majestic's turbolasers can eliminate resistance without need for an invasion."

 

"Is there a danger of damaging civilian infrastructure?" Ceorl asked Brandi.

 

"Yes," Brandi replied. "The firing solutions are complex and a slight miscalculation can cause serious collateral damage. However, unless you object, I was going to order the bombardment."

 

Ceorl took a moment to think the matter through. "I do not think the Emperor will mind."

 

---

 

Several hours later the three commanders watched a computer display sort through the probe droid findings.

"A tempting target," Grammel remarked, one hand absently smoothing his brushy mustache.

 

"Five regiments with nothing more than small arms and light vehicles" Brandi said. "Given time the Majestic could reduce them to so much kinetic kindling."

 

"Why would the rebels make such an exposed stand?" Ceorl asked.

 

"Bah, who cares to understand the mind of a traitor," Grammel practically spat. They believe themselves to be invincible, clothed in righteousness as if it were a shield."

 

"Lieutenant Keegan, upload this information to your console," Brandi ordered the weapon's officer. "As soon as you have firing solutions notify me."

 

---

 

"Coordinates plotted, sir," Keegan announced fifteen minutes later.

 

Brandi walked over to the tactical display. "Feed your data to the gunnery stations." He walked back to command chair. "Comm get me a ship wide address."

 

At the communications' officer okay signal, Brandi began. "Crew of the Majestic," he intoned. "As imperial arbiters the time has come to cleanse the taint of rebellion from Balmora. Gunners, you will receive planet side coordinates of major resistance centers that will be eliminated. Do your duty that is all."

 

Brandi waited a moment, his eyes starring through the bridge's window to the planet below. "Captain Wellington commence firing."

 

Wellington nodded. "All batteries open fire," he ordered through the ship's communication system.

 

From the bridge, Ceorl watched several turbolaser batteries swivel to firing positions. Abruptly their snub nosed cannons recoiled from the kinetic buildup and streaks of green energy, from the colorization of the energy crystals, erupted, speeding towards the surface.

 

Even at the relatively small spatial distance involved several minutes passed before the first volley hit its target. Crimson mushrooms sprouted across Balmora's surface, enormous conflagrations that expanded under the withering, and continual, fire of the Majestic's guns.

 

"Beautiful," Grammel said awestruck.

 

After several endless minutes the barrage stopped.

 

"Initial firing sequence completed," Wellington stated.

 

"Batteries accurately targeted two sectors," the tactical officer reported. "I'm reading reduced energy signatures and a significant spike in heat emissions."

 

"What about the third sector?" Brandi asked.

 

"It appears undamaged, Admiral. C-Section batteries strayed off their firing points by a parsec and... hit a nearby mining operation. That area shows similar damage patterns as the other two sectors hit."

 

"Can you trace the problem?" Wellington said.

 

"C-Battery commander reports a traction problem in the lead battery. Neither the crew nor the targeting system noticed the discrepancy until now, sir."

 

"Get a damage team on it," Brandi ordered. "Lieutenant Kendall re-run the firing solution for that sector to be sure and upload the remaining sector solutions to gunnery stations. This last sequence should eliminate resistance for good."

 

"How long till we can fire again?" Ceorl asked.

 

"Five minutes, likely less," Brandi replied matter of factly.

 

"So little time to wipe out so much," Ceorl thought. When he told Grammel as much, the man smiled.

 

"Many years ago a Sith Lord devastated Telos. It took half an hour with antiquated technology for his fleet to gut the planet."

 

The second barrage surgically eliminated the unprotected Rebel strongpoints. As a fifth of Balmora's western continent burned a transmission came from the planetary surface.

 

"Imperial Star Destroyer, this is the Balmora Planetary Defense Force commander," a tired voice, heavily distorted by static, broadcasted. "We surrender. Please cease your bombardment, over."

 

Outside the Commonwealth Building

Balmora

Day 63

 

Faceless stormtroopers in polished white armor paraded prisoners before General Grammel and COMPNOR Chief Ceorl. A squadron of TIE fighters flew overhead their sonic shriek the victor's music. The Majestic, in low orbit, hung over all.

 

"Victory," Grammel said preening. "And without a single blaster shot fired."

 

"Indeed," Ceorl noted dryly as work crews struggled to remove debris from the parade's path. Behind them the Commonwealth's administrative wing was mere memory; a smoking crater courtesy of an off target turbolaser battery.

 

Ceorl turned around to face the assembled human dignitaries. Among them was a haggard Edward Trace taken from confinement and transported to Balmora. He seemed a smaller man now with sunken eyes and an unkempt beard.

 

Ceorl began with a lie. "As faithful civil servants I would ask we put this behind us and work toward the future," Ceorl waved a hand to encompass the surrounding devastation. "The Emperor has decreed Balmora become his premiere production and training center. He would ask for your loyalty in return."

 

"And what does that entail?" Trace asked, his jaded eyes narrowed in distrust.

 

"To insure an administration with the will for necessary reforms a planetary governor, with powers beyond legislative reproach, will be appointed," Ceorl answered. "COMPNOR membership will be mandatory for participation in this new administration. And all resident xenos will be registered according to the Galactic Race Laws provisions."

 

"That is absurd," a councilman, his face red with anger, shouted. "Balmorans will never agree to such a fascist accord."

 

"Think about what democracy has brought your planet." Ceorl retorted. "Aliens have abused Balmora's political system, dragging you into their vindictive secessionist conflict while claiming to represent your will. Balmora was under the knife edge only because they called to their brothers pleading 'liberation'.

 

Strong decisive leadership is necessary to halt such recklessness and secure a future free of the dictates of alien minds. COMPNOR is this vessel to a new age of human prosperity.

 

None of you need go along, but all who do shall be enriched for it. Balmora's Labor Union could become the national labor organization fueling an age of prosperity never seen before.

 

Think on this and remember those who stand against the Empire shall face a traitor's fate. I shall call on you again." Ceorl signaled for stormtroopers to escort them away.