Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

Haika stood for a moment catching his breath, despite the fact that he already felt the draw of going to the other side of the ship, the other hangar bay. Everything in good time, his master had been fond of saying, and Haika knew that part of every battle is the patience to regroup.

“Alright, boys and girls,” he said after a moment. “We’re gonna be needed over on the starboard side. Communication lines, including sec-cams are probably knocked out over there, which is why there has been no comm call. Another landing party.”

“H,” Jax asked, “how do you know these things.”

Haika’s silence spoke for itself.

“Oh…” Jax said, “another…”

“Soldiers, stay here, except for you three,” Haika gestured, “and Jax. We make our way over. It’ll be fast going, cause most of the doors, from what I’ve seen, have been locked open, and a few walls have been blasted out from the shaking. Let’s move.”

Haika turned and began running, followed by the soldiers he had marked, and of course his old smuggler friend. And, as Haika had mentioned, the path to the other side was far faster than would have been otherwise, especially since halls that should have been bustling were empty due to injuries or battle. It took them less than five minutes to reach the starboard landing bay.

The door was sealed shut, but Haika activated his sabers with a snap-hiss, and sliced the seal, pushing the doors open with a wave of his hand.

Just in time to be thrown back by a concussive wave.

There was heat, now, mostly dissipated by his armor, but some seeping through. He felt small shards of metal striking him. It was over in a moment.

He turned, checking on his soldiers. One had fallen badly, and his ankle was twisted in an unhealthy fashion. The others seemed fine, a little shaken, but Haika had taken the brunt of the explosion (he would later find his armour somewhat blackened and a little chipped in places).

Nodding, Haika moved into the landing bay. It was clear what had made the explosion, as the blast area was actually fairly small, too small for rockets or a bomb. Likely a thermal detonator or a frag grenade. In the middle of the blast radius were several smoking body parts only slightly recognizable as Gungan (and this from a smoking ear). A few other bodies, several pirate, several Pelagians, sat within the blast mark. Around the landing bay, the remainders of the fighters were getting groggily up from behind whatever cover they had taken.

Haika’s eyes narrowed in on a man of dark complexion. He was older than Haika, although not by much, handsome, and well built. He was standing faster than the others, and practically reeked of the Force, in the way that only trained Force Users did. Haika had once tried to explain the sensation to Howldan the Wookie, and the best he could come up with is “it smells like burned nerf burger charged with electricity and covered in lemon”.

“Jax, soldiers, flank the ‘rates, now!” Haika commanded, still linked with his role as commander. Jax nodded and dashed around to one side, preparing for yet another battle.

Haika dashed over to the Force User who looked up.

“The NR sent someone?” The dark man asked.

“Not quite. Haika Vibrose.” Haika replied.

“Jamayle Williams. Ready?”

Haika re-activated his sabers. “I am my blade, and a blade is always ready.” Haika didn’t remember where he had heard this (or even if he had made it up), but it felt right to say.

Jamayle nodded and called out. “Now, take ‘em out, men!”

Blaster fire erupted immediately, and Haika nodded to Jamayle, who activated his own saber. Together, they dashed into the fray.

Haika had rarely fought alongside a warrior like this. Usually he was the saber, and he helped the gunners as he could. Occasionally he had fought Force users, and he had often worked alongside other Jedi, but usually their battles fell separate. Not this time.

Jamayle beheaded a pirate instantly, as soon as they hit the line. Haika noticed another coming for his new battle-brother, and twisted around Jamayle, slicing off the ‘rate’s arm, and halfway into his chest. Haika heard a thump from behind him, knowing it was yet another boarder.

“Get the swords!” A pirate called, referring to the two Force Users. Haika, with a lazy flick of his hand, sent a blaster bolt flying, killing a pirate to his right who was steadily aiming at Jamayle.

“Watch it, Vibrose,” Williams huffed, and Haika ducked, a pirate’s vibrosword gliding inches above his head. He felt a foot on his back, stiffened, and let Jamayle use him as a springboard, striking down the enemy.

Haika stood up, turned, and unleashed a force wave, knocking back four pirates. Stabbing right, he took out another. He dashed forward, took out two more, then called to Jamayle.

“There’s two behind the crates.”

The man nodded and waved his hand, toppling the heavy boxes. Haika heard a groan of pain from behind one.

The tides had changed in favour of the Pelagians. If there had been room, there would have been a rout. Rather, the killing of the remaining pirates came to look more like casually picking off womprats than a battle.

“Well then,” Jamayle said with a nod. “That’s that then.”

Haika still heard groaning from behind the stack of crates. “Gimme a sec.” He nodded, and slowly made his way over. Something had come over him, a wish to just see that groaning silenced in the worst way he could think of. The feeling spread from right behind his eyes, feeling like a weight that shot back to his neck, down his spine, into his arms. The ex-Jedi found the groaning rising from a human wearing stolen pieces of Stormtrooper and Republic uniforms. In the cover of the shadows, Haika felt confident that he could do what he willed to the man.

Lifting the poor man from his place under the crate with the Force, Haika felt a smug satisfaction in the feeling. He could feel the man’s heartbeat, his fear. The flavour of it was a fine wine for his soul, so fine.

This isn’t me thinking, Haika felt for a moment.

He tightened his grip with the Force the man’s groans becoming strangled then disappearing as Haika choked, choked, choked.

“Do you fear me?” The words rose to his lips unbidden.

The man gurgled.

“Do you?”

A nod.

“Do you really?”

Another nod. The man’s face was blue now.

“Good.” Haika twisted his wrist, and the man’s neck snapped. He fell to the ground in a heap.

Jamayle made his way over at that point, looking suspicious.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“The man broke his neck but wasn’t dead,” Haika lied. “I was trying to see if there was anything I could do. Nothing. He’s dead.”

Jamayle raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Let’s go get properly acquainted, shall we?”

Haika nodded.

With his eyes behind his helmet, no one could see as the whites of his eyes returned. They had been flooded with blood.


Haika sat in a room with Helena of Pelagia, Isley, Jamayle and Jax. It would take an idiot not to feel the tension strung between at least three of the people of the room. It felt like they all wanted to break out and cry together, but were held back by the presence of Haika and the smuggler captain. It made Haika feel like an intruder in a sacred place.

“So we’ll be able to jump?” Haika asked.

“Yes,” Helena replied with a nod. We’re in a dangerous situation here, but we’ll pull back our fighters. We’ll be able to jump within the next ten minutes.” She leaned back. “The ship that landed, the one with the marine, their engineer pulled us together just enough to get that much.”

“The rest of the ships?” Jax asked.

“That’s where we were lucky,” Isley stated blankly, “more of our engineers died on the Elegance than on our other ships. They’ll jump when we jump.”

Haika nodded. He had a roaring headache and couldn’t put a finger on why. He rubbed his right temple with the heel of his hand. “Where are we jumping to?”

“Nista,” Jamayle jumped up, “it’s close and House Cadriaan is Pelagia’s closest ally.” He  looked at Helena. “Am I right?”

She nodded. “Quite.”

A voice suddenly beeped out of a comm unit on Isley’s belt. “Ready to jump at your command.”

Isley looked up at Helena. The noblewoman nodded. “Jump,” Isley responded.

The ships entered hyperspace.


“FRAK!” Corjeck Herlock cried. He had seen the jump coming the moment the goddamned fighters went away.

“Sir?” A crewman looked up. He fell down dead, a smoking hole in his head.

Herlock lowered the blaster. “Chase the frakkers down.”

“We’ll have to wait while we figure out where they’ve gone.” Another crewman said tentatively.

“At our earliest opportunity,” Corjeck said slowly, “chase the frakkers down.”


The ships dropped from hyperspace. Aboard the Elegance, the ship groaned in a most unpleasant way. The lights flickered on and off, and the entire ship smelt of burned plastic.

Haika stumbled down one of the halls towards the port hangar bay. His head throbbed like drums had been set up inside and a less than decent player was beating on them. He fell against the wall, red-flashing lights playing against his face. He groaned. He could hear voices in the back of his head, whispering, mocking.

He felt like screaming but no voice rose to his lips. He sat with his back against the wall. He twisted in pain.

Suddenly he felt hands under his arms, lifting him to his feet. Strong hands. He looked into the face of Jamayle Williams.

“Vibrose,” he whispered. “I know that you are feeling pain, but I also know you lied to me before. Tell me, what did you do to that man?”

Haika groaned. He tried to remember, but all he came up with was black. He hadn’t even realized he had forgotten anything until he thought of it. The space between the last kill of the battle and making his way to the meeting with the others was black.

“I don’t know…” he groaned, “I can’t remember…”

“There’s darkness in you,” Jamayle said slowly, “tell me, are you here to betray us?”

“No,” Haika whispered. The pain was excrutiating.

“You aren’t lying,” Jamayle whispered. “Not now. Go. Lie down on your ship. We’re getting patched up at the Nista shipyards. You need to feel your best, and soon. Things are going to get a lot worse, and very soon.”

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

"Well, how did it go?"

Gandel shrugged and allowed himself a wan smile. "It went, captain. It went. Turns out our new mission will be to deal with pirates, and secure the good will of those Noble Houses who are sympathetic to the Imperial cause."

"Not exactly the charge-in-blasters-blazing sort of thing you'd had in mind?" Captain Decker said. The afore mentioned tactic wasn't one he was particularly excited about, but he wasn't about to share his lack of enthusiasm with the admiral.

"No, it's not. But one step at a time, captain. I agree with Corvae that we need to establish a larger base of power in the area… the sympathetic Noble Houses are the only option we have in that regard. So our mission is important." Gandel's holo flickered, reminding Decker of the admiral's separation from the fleet.

"Of course. When will you be returning to the fleet, sir? I can have a shuttle dispatched to pick you up momentarily, if your meeting is concluded."

Gandel shook his head, waving a hand before him in further dismissal of the idea. "That won't be necessary, captain. I'll be staying planetside for the time being."

"Sir?"

"Major General Corvae has been kind enough to offer me accommodations here at the base. I've agreed to stay for now. There are details that still need to be worked out - supply lines for the fleet, maintenance schedules, crew downtime, not to mention security clearances for our officers…"  He stopped himself, realizing he was babbling on. "Sorry, you get the idea. I'll forward you the full details of our upcoming assignment. We won't be leaving immediately, but get the fleet ready."

"Very well, sir. But at least let us send you a detachment of stormtroopers. With you away from the fleet-"

"No," Gandel frowned deeply. "Captain, I'm not in enemy territory here. These are our people… not just our allies, our people, the Empire. I don't want or need a security detachment." He watched Decker for a moment, waited until the captain nodded tersely. "Good. Oh, and Decker, be sure to look over the attached technical readouts for something called an 'immobilizer 418'. They're remarkable ships, meant to impair the enemy's ability to utilize hyper drive. We'll have one assigned to us as soon as it's recalled from wherever it's at. I want us all to know how to use one of these 'interdictors' to the best of their abilities, both on a tactical and a strategic level."

"Understood. Is there anything else?"

"Actually captain, there is. Why haven't you put the ship in drydock yet? We need to have a trained Imperial maintenance crew go over her, in case the Tigassi missed something. Or did a shoddy job somewhere."

"VSD Plague is currently in drydock undergoing maintenance," Decker replied. "Once she's out, it'll be our turn."

"There are plenty of open berths, captain."

"All due respect, admiral… I don't care how well defended this system is supposed to be, or how trustworthy our fellow Imperials are. This is a warzone, and I won't have both of our ships powered down and helpless at the same time. I know it's your call, sir, but I'd rather we have at least one ship ready for a fight at any given time."

Gandel's holographic image stared into Captain Decker's eyes for a long second. Finally, he nodded. "Very well, captain. Gandel out."

Gandel's holo blinked out, and Decker let himself relax. Not too much, of course. But enough. It was good to hear the admiral reinforce the fact that they were in friendly territory. No matter how hard Decker tried to convince himself, he always had lingering doubts. Maybe it was because the Empire was on the losing end of a war that had been lost before he even knew it was going on. Something like that happens, he told himself, you can't help but look at the rest of the galaxy with a small amount of suspicion.

****

Gandel lay on the bed, eyes open, staring into the darkness at a ceiling he couldn't make out. Deep breath in, long slow breath out. Deep breath in… and so on. He wasn't sure he sure how long he'd been trying to fall asleep, but it wasn't working. He let a lungful of air out in one sharp sigh and sat up, throwing off the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

His feet rested on the softly carpeted floor, toes digging into the fibers. He knew what was wrong. There was no vibration, no subliminal hum. He wasn't shipboard, and he couldn't sleep because of it. Everything he never noticed in his quarters on the Dominator was now making its absence excruciatingly clear. Even the air was wrong… it was too warm, too moist. Too alive. Who would have thought, he smiled to himself in the darkness, that he'd ever miss recycled air?

He put on his uniform and left his room behind. The lights of the hallway were almost blinding, so he stood there and squinted until his eyes finally adjusted. Mentally flipping a coin, he chose to go left. Passing a window, he stopped to gaze outside. Lights illuminated the Imperial base and the surrounding area, making certain nobody would be able to sneak up without being seen. Stormtroopers in small groups patrolled the perimeter, and occasionally, if he listened hard enough, he could hear the telltale whine of speeder bikes in the distance. Corvae certainly wasn't taking the security of her base for granted.

He continued on, not certain where he was going. He'd brought no guards with him, and Corvae apparently trusted him enough not to assign a trooper to stand watch by his door. So he was on his own. It was, he decided, nice to get out and wander around alone. Eventually he came to a sign on the wall which directed the casual passerby towards an officer's lounge. On a whim, he decided to follow it's direction.

The lounge was more sparsely populated than he might have expected. But then, this wasn't a warship where one shift's day was another shift's night, and the lounge was almost always busy. And it was after midnight, he conceded. Still, the place was open. The lights were dim, forcing his eyes to adjust once more to a different level of illumination. Once they did, he saw that there were only half a dozen people in the lounge, and they looked half asleep.

The droid at the bar, on the other hand, looked fully powered and quite expectant. He wandered over and took a seat, noting as he did so that the half dozen officers had seen him. He heard one of them whisper - a little too loudly, as drunks are wont to do - that he was an admiral. He nodded at them as they stood, most a little shakily. As a group they gave him a perfunctory salute, and then made their way from the lounge. Gandel shook his head and smiled. He wasn't the kind of officer to report such things, especially not when the men hadn't been in his chain of command. Still, it was probably best that they get some sleep before they had to wake up and report for duty.

"What will it be, sir?" The droid at the bar inquired. Gandel considered the question, and finally settled on an old favorite.

"Do you have any Whyren's Reserve?"

"Of course, sir." The droid obediently poured a small glass and placed it in front of Gandel, who took it with a smile.

"Thank you…" he paused, considering the droid. It was a model he'd never seen before, and it had been fitted with a ridiculous looking bow tie. "What's your designation?"

"My designation is BR-10DR, sir."

Gandel raised both eyebrows as he sipped on his drink. "Seriously? Your designation is bartender?"

"I am not programmed for duplicity, sir."

"Of course not. Man, those droid manufacturers need to get a better sense of humor." He decided to try a different tact. "What's everybody around here call you?"

"Bartender, sir. Or Mixbot. Or more commonly Tin Can. Or simply Droid. Occasionaly-"

"Ok, ok, I get it. Mind if I call you Charlie?"

"Charlie, sir?"

"Yeah," Gandel eyed the bowtie again, "It seems to fit you."

"As you wish, sir."

"Not much of a conversationalist, are you?" He asked as he took another sip of his drink. He could feel it working now, a ball of warmth spreading through his stomach and up his throat. It might be enough to help him sleep.

"I'm afraid I was programmed to dispense drinks, sir, not to converse."

"Fair enough." Gandel nodded in concession of the point.  

The droid's head turned slightly. "Good evening, sir. What will it be?" Gandel turned his head to follow the droid's gaze, and saw Tessala Corvae approaching the bar.

"The usual," she said, favoring Gandel with an arched eyebrow as she sat next to him. "Good evening, admiral. Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

"Not me," Gandel admitted. "I just couldn't sleep. Being planetside…" he shook his head. "It's just not the same." He turned a narrow gaze on Corvae. "What about you? Working late?"

"Always," Corvae answered as the droid placed her drink in front of her. "Running a battle group is one thing. Running what's left of the Imperial forces in the sector, trying to come up with battle plans, some way to make sure we aren't overrun when we're outnumbered and outgunned…"

"Sounds familiar," Gandel said with a wry smile. Corvae nodded slowly.

"I suppose it does," she said, starting in on her own drink. "The sheer amount of data I have to review some days is almost too much. I know I have analysts who could do it for me, but there's something to be said for seeing the data yourself. Sometimes there are bits that just leap out at you, things that analysts might miss."

"You sound like someone I used to know," Gandel told her. An image of Thrawn flashed into his mind, the blue skinned grand admiral sitting there in his own personal information center, surrounded by art and his many information screens. He wondered if Corvae was like Thrawn, able to put together battle plans that would defeat the enemy just by seeing the right bits of information. "If he were here now, we wouldn't have to worry a bit. This sector, the rest of the galaxy…"

"He tried that. He almost made it. They say he was killed by his own bodyguard, on the bridge of his own flagship."

"And now we're back to fighting for individual sectors," Gandel said bitterly. "And too many people will die before it's done."

"That's the cost of war, admiral. The cost of victory. Do you believe in what you're fighting for?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"Then make sure we win, and those who die to achieve that victory won't have died in vain."

Gandel finished his drink and set the empty glass on the bar. "Are you willing to carry the fight further than Tapani?"

Corvae considered Gandel for a moment. "One sector at a time, admiral. That's all we can do. When we're secure in Tapani… well, we'll see."

Gandel smiled and shook his head. "That's fair enough. But that's enough shop talk for me tonight."  He turned his empty glass between his fingers, trying not to notice that Corvae was about his age, and attractive. He stood up, straightening his uniform tunic. "I think I'll turn in."

Corvae nodded, standing as well. "Good night, admiral. I'll see you tomorrow." She watched him leave the lounge, waiting until he'd passed through the doors to sit. With a small smile, she took another sip of her Whyren's Reserve. She had the feeling that Admiral Gandel would start to be trouble if he thought he had a chance to score a major victory for the Empire. Dedication was fine… Gandel, she feared, was more than dedicated. Deep down, he really believed in the cause of restoring the Empire. And it was that sort of belief that could grow into fanaticism, the sort of hard belief that led men to sacrifice themselves for some greater good or another. And the last thing she needed was an officer that was willing to throw his life and the lives of his men away for a cause.

Victory, she thought, was all well and good. But survival was far, far better.

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

“There’s darkness in you,” Jamayle said slowly, “tell me, are you here to betray us?”

“No,” Haika whispered. The pain was excrutiating.

“You aren’t lying,” Jamayle whispered. “Not now. Go. Lie down on your ship. We’re getting patched up at the Nista shipyards. You need to feel your best, and soon. Things are going to get a lot worse, and very soon.”

The earlier conversation had bothered him still during the fight he could sense something in Haika something menacing though he could tell that he was not lying when he told him that he would not betray them he was still concerned.

 Helping one of the wounded deck hands off the floor he placed his right arm over his shoulder and carefully guided him to the medical bay. The ship was damaged badly both inside and out due to the eariler battle with the Mecetti fleet and the pirates. Passing by one of the tech consoles he tried to avoid Helena's glance and focus on his current duty to the wounded gotal naval officer.

 Inside him Jamayle could feel guilt beginning to gnaw at him. It had been years since he last saw both Helena and his godmother and he hadn't visited or bothered to contact them since his resignation from the New Republic star fighter corps. He knew eventually this situation would turn personal epically knowing how his zelosian godmother could be.

But he supposed it couldn't be helped after all he did chose to wander the stars after resigning from the military instead of coming home. Thankfully he still had plenty to do to keep him occupied for the time being. No sense worrying about his love interest and godmother while there were many on board that needed assistance. Though the thought of both Helena and his God mother feelings toward him made him realize one of the reasons the old order had forbidden family and romantic attachments.

 Eventually he reached the medical bay and helped the crewman to a seat. As he looked around the room he could see several beings men and woman of different species being looked over by a few 2-1B medical droids and some human doctors. It was a depressing sight coupled together with the pain and anguish he could feel from the wounded it was almost too much to bare.

 Turning away from the gruesome and depressing sight he decided to return to the bridge to see if there were any more wounded that needed to be cared for. Though not a doctor he hoped his minor force healing ability would be enough to keep these men and woman alive.

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

”Phaerce,” the cowled man scowled down at him, “you have betrayed our order.”

“I never betrayed us,” Haika groveled at the man’s feet. He could see his burned arms, ribbed with what remained of his tattoos. Jairck had burned him from head to toe, the first step of his punishment. “I would have made us all so much more powerful.”

“You plotted and schemed without your master’s knowledge,” the cowled one spoke again.

“Maybe, master, maybe,” Haika responded, “but for the good of us all. We would have had them.”

“And what would we have ruled? Husks!” Someone behind him shouted. Li’r, the voice betrayed.

“We would have had an army of thousands of soldiers who would have done anything. They would have eaten themselves if we asked them to.” Haika responded.

“We want subjects on this world, not shells,” the cowled one said.

“I could have done it to just the soldiers, just our army. It would have been a lesson to them all,” Haika replied, “they all would have followed us unquestionably.”

“Your defense is weak,” the cowled man spoke, “you betrayed the Sith Brotherhood and through doing so you will die.”

A blade flashed to life.

“No, master, please,” Haika groveled.

“Know the fear that you so wished to rule.”


Haika shot awake. He sat up. The dream had been disturbing beyond measure. It was more like a memory than anything else. And yet, now, he couldn’t remember a word. Just a sense of fear immeasurable.

Haika stood and slowly made his way to the refresher. He cleaned his face and looked at his lanky, pillow-messed hair. Groaning, he checked through the medicine cabinet for a pair of scissors. He trimmed his beard, then his hair. He checked how he looked, shook his head, and trimmed some more. His hair, now several inches shorter, he pulled back into a tight tail at the base of his skull.

He pulled his way to the main room again and opened the closet. There was his armor, carefully laid out on shelves, and a single set of clothes that he had received from Helena so that he wouldn’t have to wear armor about while he made whatever trips he needed while on Nista.

It was an odd feeling, wearing a uniform. Like I’ve been conscripted, Haika thought, pulling up the pants. In a sense, he supposed, he had been. He was, in theory, an officer of some sort. People naturally deferred to him because, in theory, he was Jedi.

He also had tasks. The people of the small fleet, as their ships were being repaired, had come to ask him his advice on nearly any issue. He had been somewhat used to this when he was a Jedi, but here, in close quarters with all the troops, it was worse, because he could run into anyone at any time.

They’d ask him things that he knew about: training, weapons, that sort of thing. Then there were those who would ask him advice about subjects where he had little or no expertise: what they could do about the engines or shielding units on this ship or that one, for instance. Finally, there were those who came to him to be a fortune-teller: are my kids okay, what should I do about Thom in maintenance. He hated those questions, because he had no answers.

When he was dressed and polished, he made his way out into the halls of the Elegance, and quickly to a lift to the bridge. It had been a relatively quiet few days, and the ship was slowly being repaired. Helana, Isley and Jamayle could often be found on the bridge, where they could co-ordinate repairs in any ship at any time.

He made his way into the bridge and towards the first of the three that he saw. Helena. He bowed.

She spoke, “You look ill.”

“I don’t feel it.”

“You are pale, your eyes are bloodshot, you have bags under your eyes,” she thought for a moment. “You look very, very tired.”

“That might be. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

She nodded. “None of us have been. We could get attacked at any time from anywhere, and we’re defenseless while we’re being repaired.”

“We need another fleet or two defending us.”

“We have Cadriaanian ships in orbit but…”

“Not enough?”

“No. Not enough.”

He was silent. “I sense that something is…” He fell silent.

“Is what?” She asked.

“Something difficult is coming.”

“Difficult?”

“I don’t know what it means any better than you do.”

“Oh.”

He nodded.

“Something wicked this way comes.”

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

Pirates, it turned out, were not entirely stupid.

"They're running for it, admiral."

Of course they are, Gandel thought. When all you've got is a modified corellian corvette and a bulk cruiser, you don't stand and fight an Imperial Star Destroyer. "Order the Snare to bring up her gravity wells."

"They started warming up as soon as we hit realspace," Decker responded. He studied the tactical holo for a moment. "There's no way they'll make the jump in time," he concluded.

Gandel nodded. The 105th's TIE squadrons were already in hot pursuit, harassing the pirates as they withdrew. The bombers would be in range shortly, and after being pounded with torpedoes the pirates would have only two options - surrender as requested, or die. Of course, depending on what Corvae decided to do, the first might only delay the second.

And then there was the matter of the crippled bulk freighter that the pirates had been about to board. He didn't recognize the logo emblazoned on it's hull, but there were thousands of freight companies in the galaxy. Whoever they were, and whatever they thought about the Empire, he could only imagine they'd be happy for the help. They were lucky the 105th had arrived when it did. Though the freighter was disabled, likely via ion cannons to judge by the lack of hull damage, the pirates had not yet boarded it. An assault transport loaded with engineers and equipment was already en route, with a stormtrooper guard, of course.

A change in the tactical situation grabbed Gandel's attention. The corvette was no longer running full speed away from the fighters that pursued it. Now it was coming about, looking like it intended to fight. It was a foolish gesture - already a phalanx of torpedoes was on it's way, and the bombers were smart enough to stay out of the larger ship's weapons range. The bulk cruiser, on the other hand, was signaling surrender.

"Dispatch boarding teams," he ordered. "Take everybody on board into custody, and then destroy the ship." A slow, barely armed bulk cruiser would be of no use to the 105th or Corvae. And shortly, it would be of no use to anybody else, either. "Well," he commented to Decker, "It looks like our first encounter with pirates has been an easy win. I can only hope they all go like this."

Decker nodded his agreement. The 105th had only just begun patrolling the hyperspace route between Tallaan and Aleron, and they expected to run into a lot of pirates. This first encounter had been entirely accidental. Reverting to realspace at one of the route's many navigational beacons, they had intended to simply make a minor course adjustment and continue on their way. Instead, they'd found a pirate ambush. They would spend a week or two doing just this - patrolling up and down the hyperspace lane, stopping at navigational beacons or setting interdictor traps between them. By the end of that time, they would assess the situation and report to Corvae, who would decided whether or not they would remain on duty where they were or move to another segment of the hyperspace lanes.

Gandel was already bored.

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

Captain Wolam Zechler stroked the bridge of his prominent nose thoughtfully as he watched from a bridge view port as the Pirate Corvette exploded under the combined impact of multiple proton torpedoes, some 5 kilometres off the port bow of his Interdictor Cruiser, the Snare. As he watched he could not help noticing the faint reflection of himself in the transparisteel. With his thin gaunt features, receding hairline and pointed nose, Zechler bore a slight resemblance to a young  Grand Moff Tarkin. He took pride in this likeness, it made him feel truly Imperial.

In his leather gloved hands he grasped a steaming mug of caf. He sipped thoughtfully at the sweet beverage as he watched the manoeuvring thrusters of the boarding shuttles flaring in the distance as they neared the other pirate vessel, an old bulk cruiser. The short sharp action the Snare had just participated in had been as quick as it was unexpected. Dropping out of hyperspace the ships of their small Imperial task force had been welcomed by a pirate ambush. However the criminals had been expecting defenceless freighters. The appearance of the two huge wedge shaped Imperial warships must have caused quite a response on the bulk cruisers bridge. Wolam almost chuckled to himself as he imagined the scene. The sound of footfalls behind him brought him back from his musing and he turned to be greeted by his first officer. “What is it commander Vanis?” he inquired.


The commander was in complete contrast to Zechler. Short and stocky he sported a full head of hair and a neatly trimmed beard. When he spoke, his voice was deep and his manor clipped and formal.  "Sir, fighter control reports that all TIEs are now back aboard”.

"Casualties." Zechler asked.

"None sir. However two of the fighters did receive minor damage. Repair teams have already been assigned."

"Excellent, Commander. Carry on." Vanis snapped off a perfect salute, spun and walked away. Zechler turned back to the viewport to hide the smirk which had formed. The arrival of the new Admiral had definitely had an impact on the morale of all aboard. Uniforms where neater, salutes more precise. His officers moved with a new found sense of purpose and excitement. This had only been increased by today's victory. Small and insignificant as it may be. A victory was a victory. Zechler could not deny that they had been few and far between for the crew of the Snare in recent times.

He studied the large white form of the Imperial star destroyer as it sat two kilometres away across the black void of space. Though he would never admit it, it felt good to see one again.  This was indeed the beginning of something new, but would it be good or bad? Who was this Admiral? The Snare had been recalled from patrol only hours before joining the task force. Wolam had not been given the chance to meet his new commanding officer. The man's name was Gandel. Wolam had known a captain by that name once. A good man. Something which in his experience was alarmingly hard to find amongst the higher ranks of the Imperial armed forces. However Gandel had been reported missing, presumed dead years ago. Zechler had tried to find out what had happened to his old mentor, however he could learn nothing. Whoever this other Gandel  might be, Wolam hoped he wasn't another blustering bureaucrat. Only time would tell.

“Sir, message from the command ship. They report that the boarding shuttles have finished their operations. We are ordered to set course for the next nav waypoint and standby for the jump to hyperspace.”

“Very good Lt.” Zechler replied, striding into the middle of the bridge walkway. "Let us conclude our business here. Commander Vanis, power down the gravity well projectors and rig ship for lightspeed.”

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

The universe exploded around the Dominator, black velvet giving way to a cacophony of swirling colors as the ship made the jump to hyperspace. According to sensors, the Snare was right there with them. Gandel approved. Not just of the interdictor and it's usefulness in this sort of operation, but of the efficiency with which she was commanded. There had been no way to know that there would be pirates at the navigational beacon. To bring her gravity wells up so quickly, Snare's captain must have had standing orders to start them charging as soon as the fleet hit realspace. That spoke of an "always be prepared" attitude that would serve the 105th well in the chaotic war zone that was Tapani Sector.

Much to Gandel's own personal chagrin, he hadn't yet met the ship's captain. He'd been in such a hurry to get the operation started he was starting to let his professionalism slip. That would have to change.

Satisfied that Decker had the ship well in hand, Gandel left the command deck and retired to his office. It wasn't the same as it had been on the Decimation… but then, it never would be. Not only were the accommodations on a VSD smaller than on an ISD, but Gandel had had many years to get used to his old space. The chair in particular was a point of disparity. Gandel's old chair had been well worn, formed to his personal contours. This new chair was… well, new. He could still smell the synthleather upholstery, it was that new.

Gandel slid into it and took a moment to get comfortable before turning on his desk's terminal. First came a report about the recent action, to be sent back to Corvae. Of particular interest would be the disabled bulk freighter that the 105th had rescued from an unpleasant fate. It was a shipping company local to the sector, which explained why Gandel hadn't recognized it's logo. The company operated out of the Gilliana system. According to the maps, that was one of the major star systems in the area. Hopefully the crew of the freighter would spread word of their rescue by Imperial forces back at their home port, and with any luck the news would spread to other systems.

Gandel had to shake his head a little. The freighter crew had been incredibly suspicious of the Imperial's motives. Even when they finally agreed to let the Imperial engineers to their work, the crew hovered around to watch their every move. And when the boarding parties packed everything up, wished them a good trip, and left… the freighter crew almost seemed as if they couldn't believe that was it. At least the ship's captain had manged to get out a polite "thank you" before they left.

Gandel finished the report and marked it to be transmitted as soon as the ship hit realspace. Now then, on to the next set of business. He pulled up the personnel file for the Snare's captain. A picture and short bio obediently appeared on the screen, and Gandel's brow creased. The man looked familiar. Come to think of it, the name was familiar too. When it had just been Captain Zechler he'd thought nothing of it. Wolam Zechler, on the other hand… for the life of him, Gandel couldn't place the face or the name, so he started reading the bio. He had to read it twice before he found the reason why Wolam Zechler was so familiar… he'd once served with a Lieutenant Wolam Zechler, before his assignment to Grand Admiral Thrawn. Their shared duty station was right there in the service record. Memories of the man began floating back.

Well then, wasn't this a small universe after all? And, a more morose thought, had he really forgotten that much of his life before being exiled to the Unknown Regions? He brought up a new message template, marked for transmission at the earliest possible moment.

Captain,

Please arrange to visit the Dominator at your earliest possible convenience. I make it a point to get to know the officers under my command, personally if at all possible. I regret that the pace of operations has been such that this invitation was delayed until now.

Maxwell Gandel
Admiral, 105th Imperial Fleet

He eyed the message for a moment. It was short and to the point, but interfleet communiques generally were. And there was no need to be too overly friendly in tone… after all, there was always the chance that Zechler didn't even remember serving with Gandel.

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

Haika turned to Helena, feeling stiff in the uniform. “You asked me here for a reason beyond my evident illness.”

She sighed. “I suppose that nothing gets by you.”

Haika arched an eyebrow. “Very little.”

“I have a task to ask of you and your men…”

“My friends,” Haika emphasized, “I don’t command them any more than you command me. They follow me because I ask them to, not because I tell them to.”

“That as may be,” she turned to him. “I do have a task for you.”

“And what might that task be?” Haika asked, an edge in his voice.

“You and your friends,” she sighed, “well, you aren’t obviously aligned with us, are you. I mean, none of the enemy even knows that you exist. You’re friends are smugglers, you are a wanderer. To the untrained eye you may look a mercenary or bounty hunter.”

“I won’t lie,” Haika said, “I’ve followed those paths once. I suppose it is the closest thing to what I am.”

“Well,” she struggled for words, “you look like scoundrels in the end.”

Haika gave a brief and rare smile. “I suppose we do.”

“And as such, you could get behind enemy lines, ally yourselves with them…”

“You’re asking me to be a spy and saboteur, aren’t you?” Haika asked.

“In no less blunt terms…” Helena replied.

“Hmm,” Haika leaned against the bulkhead.

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t know you could do it. If I didn’t know you were the best we have for this job.”

“You have a specific job in mind?” Haika asked.

“We would like you to get close to the Imperial leaders, like you are close to us.” She looked down for a moment. “We want you to rely information to us through the already existing network, we want you to disrupt their operations, and, if worse comes to worst…”

“You want me to kill them?” Haika asked.

She nodded. “Only in the worst case would I ask you to be our assassin.”

Haika sniffed. “You say that like killing would dissuade me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Haika’s voice was barely above a growl. “Killing is my business, fear my weapon, discord my ally. It is what I am. It doesn’t repel me.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me there.”

She leaned her head to the side. “You are an odd man, Master Vibrose.”

“I am an old and tired man.” Haika shook his head.

“Tired, maybe.” She smiled at him warmly. “Not old.”

“But I feel old.” Haika rolled his neck, feeling the slight pop of loosening joints.

“So you’ll do the job?” She asked.

“I will.” Haika bit his lip. “But let me say this: I am what I am. Here I will follow my instincts. If you ask me to do something that I feel is wrong, I won’t do it. If you attempt to stop me from doing something I think is right, I will do it. When I am out there, behind enemy lines,” Haika took a deep breath, “you are my advisor, not I yours.”

“I understand.”

“You also understand that I may never return, that I may get caught, and that you’ll have lost an asset?”

“I do.”

“Then we are all on the same page. I leave as soon as possible.” Haika turned to leave.

“Thank you.” Helena bowed her head.

“You’re welcome,” Haika responded, not turning, “Although this may cost me my soul, you’re welcome.”


The Angel took off without a word. Only Jax and Haika knew the mission they were on. The others just thought they were changing business interests. They were smugglers. Changing businesses meant little to them.

“You’re sure this is for the best?” Jax asked.

“Trust me.” Haika said.

“You know, H,” Jax shook his head, “sometimes I think I trust you too much.”

“Sometimes I think that too.” Haika said. Even know, he could feel the pulsing draw of the crown, safely locked away and out of sight.

The hours ticked past. Haika could always feel the presence of Imperials far better than he could other people. He didn’t know why. Perhaps hate fueled it, or simply an outburst at the personalities the Imperials drew.

He felt Imperials now, as the ship suddenly slowed as if it had hit a brick wall.

“What’s going on?” Jax asked.

“I dunno, sir!” One of his crew called. “It’s like the ship sensed a planet or asteroid field or something.”

“Gravity well…” Jax hissed.

“Calm yourselves,” Haika breathed deeply. “Its just Imperials. I assume that we’re all going to be cordial to our new employers?”

Everyone else calmed visibly, including Jax. However, beneath his veneer, Jax broiled. Haika knew he would have difficulty maintaining a presence of complacency when he was so against the Imps. On this matter, at least.

“Unknown vessel,” a voice blared through the comm, “report your name and designation immediately before your are destroyed.”

Jax hit a button. “This is YT-1930 Fallen Angel, under the command of Captain Jax Youngstar. We’ve come seeking your boss.”

There was a moment without reply. “Why?”

“We’re seeking meaningful employment,” Jax sucked a breath between his teeth. “We have a friend aboard who believes his particular skills may be an asset to your cause.”

“And what might these skills be?”

Jax looked at Haika. Haika leaned forward as he responded. “I am a Force User,” he stated calmly. Then he breathed deeply and made his lie. “A former Emporer’s Hand.”

There was a heavy silence. “Repeat that, Angel.”

“I’m a Force User. A former Emporer’s Hand.”

Another silence. “Angel, please prepare to dock. A TIE Wing will guide you in.”

“Much obliged.” Jax responded, then shut down communications momentarily. The crew gazed at Haika.

Haika hissed his command. “If a single one of you so much as breathes a word of the truth, I will hunt you down and make sure your deepest fear is realized.”

He shook his head again. “I’m sorry,” he spoke slowly, “that was uncalled for.”

Jax raised an eyebrow. By now, the TIE wing had approached and was guiding the ship towards a Star Destroyer.

“You better hope this works,” Jax said, “you better hope, godsdamnit.”

“It will.” Haika swallowed, then, beneath his breath, “I hope.”

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

Captain Decker watched impassively as the ship which bore the supposed Emperor's Hand made it's way into the massive hangar. Passing cleanly through the magcon field, it floated gracefully to it's assigned landing space. With a hiss of exhaust, the landing gear touched the deck as if the ship weighed not more than a feather. The company of stormtroopers assembled in the hangar stood just a little more ready - they knew a force user was on board, and while none had faced one themselves they'd all heard stories from the clone wars. If things turned ugly, they'd have to act fast. Decker sincerely hoped things didn't turn ugly. If they did, his head would likely be the first to hit the deck.

The landing ramp descended, and lone individual descended to the deck. The lightsabers were immediately noticeable. Not one, but three. Then again, just about everything the man wore looked designed to draw attention, from the lightsabers to the golden armor and even the tattered old cloak which seemed to slither around him of it's own accord. Hand or not, Decker decided, one just didn't pick up three lightsabers from the local flea market. Whatever this man might be, he was likely a force to be respected.

Decker met the man at the foot of the ramp, the safety blanket of stormtroopers some distance behind him. "Welcome aboard VSD Dominator," he greeted the new arrival.

"Thank you, captain," the new arrival responded. So, he at least knew how to read Imperial naval insignia. His eyes traveled from Decker to the arrayed stormtroopers. "That's quite a welcome you've arranged."

"It's not everyday you get an Emperor's Hand as a visitor… even a former one," Decker replied. He produced a datapad and held it towards the visitor. "Speaking of which, I'll need the security code that verifies your identity." Without hesitation, but with a cold look, he took the pad. "Don't worry about our records being too up to date," Decker said with a wry smile. "We've got all the old codes. If you were a Hand before Thrawn went to the Unknown Regions, we haven't purged it yet." This sparked a look of interest from Decker's guest, who took a moment to tap in a lengthy alpha numeric sequence. Satisfied with the result, he handed it back to Decker.

The captain was, despite himself, surprised to see that the code had been accepted. There was no name, no picture. Just a notice that the bearer of the code was an Emperor's Hand, with the highest security clearance, and that the officer viewing the message was to cooperate fully and render any assistance required to the bearer of the code. Slowly, a smile brightened Decker's face. Perhaps the fleet's luck really was turning around. He straightened his posture ever so slightly, and produced the salute he had thus far neglected to provide. Behind him, he could almost feel the stormtroopers back down from their hair trigger readiness.

The Hand returned the salute. "Now, if that's all settled," he asked, "When can I meet with your ranking officer?"

The question gave Decker pause. He'd mentioned nothing about Admiral Gandel, given the Hand no reason to think that he wasn't the one in charge. Yet, somehow, the other man knew. Well,  perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. "I'm afraid the admiral is currently in a meeting," he admitted. "I'll let him know you're here as soon as possible." Decker paused, realization dawning. "I'm sorry, the file gave no name…"

"Phaerce," the Hand replied. "Samuel Phaerce."

Decker nodded, filing the knowledge away. "Until the admiral is available, is there anything you or your crew need?" He cast a questioning glance at the YT-1930 still cooling it's engines. The sensors had shown a number of life signs aboard the ship. Decker wondered if they, too, were ex-Imperials. If so, he hoped they would be the first of many to rejoin the fleet.

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

The ride in the lift was filled with an uneasy silence. Haika preferred it that way. The less he had to talk, the more he could watch, and the less chance he would have of making a possibly fatal mistake in what he said.

Uneasily, one of the guards who were accompanying him to the Admiral's anteroom shifted his weight. His boot made a squeak. Haika cast a sidelong glance at him. The man noticed and suddenly straightened to perfect attention, fear rippling from his pores.

Haika could smell that fear. In some ways it was rancid beyond belief, a stench of desperation and finality. In other ways, it smelt more delicious than anything he had ever known.

With that, Haika knew.

Something was changing in him. Something was changing, and he had lost the ability to rein it in.

He hid behind a mask of cool indifference while he contemplated this. He had unlocked a part of himself, a hateful part, back on Llord. That had been the cause of his abandoning the Jedi. He couldn't be the good that Jedi were, not with all that darkness in him.

But he had controlled the darkness. That was important. He had it under control. But something had changed.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door slid open. The anteroom beyond was large but not overly extravagant. It was comfortable, but vaguely looked sterile, as if a person shouldn't become to comfortable. Haika supposed it looked efficient.

He stepped in, ignoring everyone else in the lift, and sat with an air of confidence in the largest, most comfortable chair he could find. He noticed its resemblance to a the Emperor's one-time throne, and wondered if it had been designed to mimic it. He guessed it had.

When he had been asked if there was anything he or his crew wanted, he had replied to Decker to take that up with them, and that he simply needed to talk to the Admiral. Decker had promised that the Admiral would soon be out of his meeting and would talk to him at his earliest opportunity. Decker had then offered to show Haika to quarters where he could change out of what must be very uncomfortable armor. Haika had declined. The armor was actually rather more comfortable than most clothes, and he needed to maintain his air of importance.

So now he sat in the chair like the Emperor's throne. Haika marveled somewhat at that. He supposed that as Samuel Phaerce, he was the highest ranking Imperial in the fleet. Hands reported only to the Emperor, and without an Emperor, they reported to no one.

Haika peaked an eyebrow. He wondered if he claimed to be the new Emperor, if the fleet would follow. He doubted. If anything, he would be thrown down in an instant. He was happy that wasn't his plan. Sabotage was one thing, taking control and then destroying everything was another.

He had another reason for being happy. He worried that perhaps, just perhaps, he might like that power a little too much. This darkness might cling to it, take root in it. Maybe he would become worse than the last Emperor if he did it. Maybe he would forget his friends in the proper Tapani fleet. Maybe he would forget Jax, and Howldan, the Ahiks. Maybe he would forget Jenia.

Could power mean more than love to evil?

Haika determined to keep Jenia in mind. He hoped that would keep his mission in the forefront. He couldn't forget who he was.

Haika's hand suddenly shot to his head. Pain exploded there, behind his eyes. More pain than he could possibly imagine. It tore down his spine and into his guts. He gritted his teeth and bent over. A pulse droned in the pack of his head, screaming for something, the one thing, that could relieve that pain. Haika ignored it and breathed deeply, trying not to scream.

“Hand Phaerce, sir,” one of the guards said, “are you alright? Sir, what's wrong?”

Haika groaned. “I'm in pain, soldier,” he said simply, “an old pain has been coming to me, and I haven't been able to have it checked. I long ago ran out of proper medication for it.”

“What is it, sir?”

“A curse of spirits,” Haika hissed. “People with the Force have different talents. One of mine is known as divining, or seeing. The pain comes from my ability to see the future. Sometimes I hold off visions, and the pain comes.”

Haika thought the lie good. It was tasteful and unprovable. Everyone's experience with the Force was different, so even if they followed up, they couldn't prove him right or wrong.

The pain left as suddenly as it had come. Haika sat up.

“See,” he said, “it's gone. Now then, soldier, I ask that you back away nice and quick before I slice your hand off for the insolence.”

The soldier looked down at his hand, which was resting on Haika's soldier. His eyes continued down to Haika's hand, which rested on a lightsaber hilt. He shot back like a bolt of lightning.

Haika grinned evilly at him.

There was a woosh of an opening door. Haika turned and saw two men leaving the offices of the Admiral. Haika stood. Now the real act was about to begin.

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

Under normal circumstances, Gandel would have been fairly surprised to see a man in unfamiliar armor standing just outside of his office. Luckily Captain Decker had discretely warned the admiral via a message to his personal datapad. Meeting concluded, Gandel now had the opportunity to see this supposed Emperor's Hand for himself.

The whole subject of Hands was a tricky one. Nobody knew who they were, or just how many there were. Given their supposed skill sets it was entirely likely that one or all of them had survived the fall of the Empire and the chaos that followed. Why they wouldn't be working for the Imperial Remnant, however… of course, maybe this one was. It was, Gandel thought, possible that the Remnant hadn't completely abandoned the Tapani Sector as it first appeared. Sending a Hand could be a gesture of support. Hopefully, if that were the case, it would be but the first such gesture.

And, speaking of gestures, Gandel gave the Hand a formal salute. Technically, he supposed, the man outranked him. But then a Hand's position in the chain of command had always been vague. He assumed that the Emperor had done so intentionally, so as not to impose restrictions on his agents. "Hand Phaerce," he greeted his visitor.

"Admiral Gandel," the Hand replied in turn, with a matching salute. Formalities taken care of, Gandel smiled.

"I have to say, it's good to see you. Please, come into my office." As the two men settled in, he once again reflected on how disused his office looked. And once again he regretted the loss of his personal effects on the Decimation. "Please excuse the… rigid atmosphere. My command ship was recently destroyed in a skirmish with the Rebels, and I haven't had the time to redecorate this one. Too busy working with General Corvae, figuring out how we're going to hold this lost cause we call Tapani."

The Hand didn't look amused. In fact, Gandel hadn't seen his visitor so much as crack a smile. It was disconcerting to see someone look so grimly serious. But then, that was probably the intended effect. "That's why I'm here," the Hand said finally. "To judge the capability of the remaining Imperial forces and their ability to hold this sector, as well as act in an… advisory capacity."

"I see." Gandel leaned back in his chair. So, this was to be an evaluation? Did the bureaucracy that led the Remnant think they had time to carefully weigh the situation before deciding whether or not to send aid? No wonder they lost the war. He allowed some of his discontent to darken his expression. "What would you like to know?"

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

“All in good time,” Haika responded, holding a hand out to the office, “although I would like to speak in more privacy.”

The Admiral looked around the room at the guards. “Of course,” he responded.

The Admiral looked at the man he had been talking to an nodded. The man nodded back and saluted before leaving.

Haika and the Admiral entered the office. It was considerably less austere than the anteroom. Haika found himself unnerved by the fact that he actually liked the decorum. He made his way to a comfortable seat in front of the Admiral's desk and sat, the Admiral swinging around the desk and sitting on the opposite side.

“Now then,” Haika began, “perhaps it would be best for me to explain my sudden appearance.”

The Admiral nodded as if the thought had been lingering on his mind.

“Since the death of the Emporer,” Haika said as he twisted into a more comfortable position, “I have been moving from group to group. You see, the Imperial Remnant is by far not the only Imperial group remaining, although it is the largest. Not every commander was thrilled with the leadership of the group.”

The Admiral nodded again. “I understand.”

“Occasionally, there is even fighting among these groups,” Haika shook his head in displeasure. “I am not a pawn, and work for none of these groups. Not even the Remnant. In my current capacity, the best I can do is keep the peace between them. We can't have fighting within the Empire while there is a greater enemy pressing conquest against what is rightfully ours.”

The Admiral nodded. “I agree entirely.”

“So for many years I have been traveling from group to group, advising and, where necessary, changing their leadership.” The implication was clear. Assassination.

The Admiral straightened slightly. “Go on.”

“I know most of the groups, and am not particularly, shall we say, fond of any of them,” he blew a breath between his teeth, “they have all lost part of what it means to be Imperial. And then I hear of you.”

“Hear of us?”

Haika glared. “I am a Hand. My networks know a lot.”

“Of course.”

“You seem to me,” Haika continued, “to be my best option for a pure Imperial base. The true meaning of being Imperial, its heart, lies with you. You have not had to deal with the politics and disgusting under-the-table dealings that have become commonplace. You, Admiral, are the Empire.”

The Admiral remained passive.

“So I have come to judge for myself whether or not this is true. And to advise you, where I can,” Haika leaned back. “If I judge you to be what I think you are, I will go to a few of the other groups that I have my connections in and bring them to you. Perhaps I can even persuade the Remnant to lend support.”

The Admiral steepled his fingers. “You could do this?”

“I think that I could even draw a few of the groups I haven't had contact with. There are a few, but I am a hand, and a Hand can take liberties in command.”

“I understand. How long will you be determining the purity of the fleet?”

“For as long as I deem necessary.”

“How long do you believe.”

“No more than two, three months.”

“Why so long?”

“Truthfully, Admiral,” Haika shook his head, “a Hand is a person like any other. It has been a long time, longer than I can recall, since I've been able to stop moving for more than a few days, maybe a week or two at most. I've had to be faster than shadows to maintain what semblance of order I can. A two month reprieve somewhere that seems to be the closest thing to the old Empire I can find would be a welcome change from the monotony of the constant and dull politics of the other Imperial factions.”

“I understand,” the Admiral replied, “when we came back from the Unknown Regions, what many of us were looking forward to was a simple reprieve from the constant travel, to sit back at a place we could call home and relax for just a little while. Unfortunately, fate got in our way.”

“Fate,” Haika spat, “or filthy Rebel scum?”

“Rebels, then,” the Admiral nodded, “what fate would deem the Rebels the correct rulers of the government?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

The Admiral stood, and Haika followed suit. Reaching out, the two shook hands, and then saluted. “I'm glad we could come to this arrangement.” Haika spoke.

“As am I,” responded the Admiral, “as am I.”

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

Gandel sat alone in his office after Hand Phaerce had left. He hadn't known what to expect from an Emperor's Hand. After all, they'd been nothing short of mythological beings during his time in the Imperial Navy. Before the Unknown Regions, and the collapse of the Empire. He'd heard stories and rumors, and nobody denied they existed. If one ever showed up, he knew, you were probably in trouble.

Well, he was in trouble. Even after joining Corvae's command he'd been lacking an anchor. The Remnant - and he was coming to dislike them more and more - had abandoned Tapani Sector. So while he now fought alongside Imperials, he still wasn't fight alongside the Empire. It had been a nagging frustration.

And then Hand Phaerce showed up. A real Hand, here on his ship. An anchor to the Empire, who's words reflected Gandel's own dedication to it. And, even better, he'd brought with him the promise of help. More troops and ships would mean he and Corvae could do more than just hold what territory they had. With enough additional support, they could go on the offensive. Take back Tapani, and wave that victory as a battle flag to the rest of the galaxy. Show them that there were still Imperials left who were willing to fight the good fight and restore the ideals of the Empire, regardless of the Remnant's lack of spine. Such a victory would attract more supporters, set up the possibility of future successes. Perhaps it would embolden even the Remnant. It would be the first step on the road to restoring the Empire that Gandel had once known, to-

He suddenly realized he was grinning like a fool, and laughed. He was getting ahead of himself. Way ahead of himself. Perhaps all that was true, or perhaps it was an overoptimistic dream. Either way, it was sometime for the future. For now he had other things to consider.  Activating his desk terminal, he tied into the ship's communication systems and contacted Corvae.

It took several moments, but at last her face appeared on the screen. "What's wrong?" It was an interesting assumption, Gandel thought. But then, up until now he'd been content to send reports via text.

"Actually, something's right," he replied. "I have good news for you, general."

"Do you?" Corvae looked skeptical. So far, not much had gone her way during this conflict. There was no reason for it to start doing so now.

"I have on board my ship, at this very moment, an Emperor's Hand."

Corvae's expression became even more skeptical, if that were possible. "Are you certain?"

"He provided us with a security code. According to our databases, it checks out as one of the highest security clearances in existence at the time of our departure. Oddly, it doesn't seem to be included in the data upload we got from your systems."

"A lot has changed since you left, admiral. I'm sure I don't have to remind you of that. The rebels captured a great deal of sensitive information when they occupied Coruscant. We were forced to reevaluate many of our security policies." Corvae shook her head. "I know you have a… let's call it a fondness, for anything that has to do with the old Empire. But let's be realistic here. It's an old code, and it's entirely possible the rebels captured it when they took the capital. If they hadn't run into you it probably wouldn't have come back as valid."

"I don't know," Gandel mused. "What could they gain from planting someone in my fleet? Or anywhere in your command, for that matter? In the grand scheme of things, Tapani Sector isn't a high stakes fight for them. If they wanted to, the rebels could send in a fleet to restore order and be done with it. The Remnant has officially withdrawn, all they would have to worry about is us."

"And that's exactly why they would want to compromise your command," Corvae pointed out.

"Hmm. I see. Still, isn't it a risk worth taking? Phaerce, the Hand, he claims he has contacts with other Imperial splinter groups. If there's even the remote possibility he could bring them in on our side, shouldn't we pursue it?"

Corvae could tell Gandel's enthusiasm was getting the better of him again. Yet he had a point. The Imperial forces in Tapani were in dire need of reinforcements. She had yet to implement Gandel's propaganda recruitment plan, and to be frank she was convinced it was going to be a waste of time. So the idea of boosting her numbers in any way possible was appealing, especially if they were actual Imperials. She considered her options.

"Very well," she said at last. "But don't trust him. Keep both eyes on this supposed Hand, and send me regular updates. And admiral? I don't care what his supposed security clearance is. Any information regarding our operations in this sector is to be limited to your fleet and nothing else. Until I know we can trust him, I don't want him privy to our every move."

"Understood, general."

"Good. Now, while I have you, what's the status of your pirate hunting operation?"

"Everything is going well," Gandel reported, glad Corvae had finished damping his good mood. "The interdictor cruiser is worth its weight in your choice of precious metals. By now word should be getting around to the various criminal elements and, hopefully, to the governments of the freighters we rescued. There have been several incidents where our timely arrival has saved ships and their crews from the hands of pirates."

"Excellent," Corvae smiled. "Continue with your mission for now. I think we'll keep you on the same rotation for now. Continue with regular reports, and with luck we should be able to move you into a new patrol area soon. Corvae out."

The communications screen died and Gandel shut it off. Corvae made sense, he supposed. Yet he couldn't help but feel that there was more to Phaerce's presence. Somehow, he just couldn't see the man as a rebel infiltrator. Well, he supposed, he'd find out one way or another soon enough.

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

“How many Noble Houses are on our side, Admiral?” Haika thought the meeting seemed to be dragging on forever without any real information being given. The leaders of house Pelagia would be disappointed. Although, Haika thought, does that really matter. He found himself not particularly caring whether the Pelagians got enough information or not. They weren't his people.

“Enough,” the Admiral replied. Another unclear answer.

“You know, Admiral,” Haika said, “I almost feel like you don't trust me with this information.” There was just a hint of threat in his tone.

The Admiral leaned back. “Of course I trust you, Hand Phaerce.”

“It's Major General Corvae, isn't it?” Haika spat her name like it was sour.

The Admiral's eyes grew surprised for a moment. “No, of course…”

“It's hard to lie to a Force User, Admiral,” Haika interrupted. Another threat.

The Admiral opened his mouth then closed it again. Then he spoke. “Yes,” he said, “the General has…recommended that I hold you at arms length. She believes that there is a chance that you…well, that you are a Rebel infiltrator.”

Haika thought for a moment, then grinned. “Really? Why?”

“She has mentioned…distaste for your use of old codes. She was certain that the Rebels could have gotten them. She thinks that there is a possibility that you are a spy.”

Haika laughed. “Is that all? I simply used the old codes because I wasn't aware that you had the new ones. You've been gone a long time, Admiral.”

“Yes,” Gandel spoke, “we have.”

“If I could organize a meeting with the General…”

“You've been requesting that for days,” the Admiral spoke, “since you got here, really. She is extremely busy. She'll find time to see you.”

“You see, this is what I don't understand,” Haika spoke, “she is too busy for a Hand. A Hand is second only to the Emperor and Vader, as I see it. Their eyes and ears in the Galaxy. And yet she, a simple General,” he shot to his feet, rage sliding off of him, “refuses to see me! Me! This is what I have been saying, Admiral. They are impure! They are not the Empire any longer! Imperial, perhaps, but the Empire! Bah! They refuses to acknowledge the old ways, the ways that led the Empire to its height and glory, and that is why they lose! That is why they lost! That is why they failed to defend our Emperor, how they could allow a boy, a pathetic mewling babe, to destroy all we worked for! No respect! None!”

The Admiral had a mix of fear and awe on his face. A Force User in this heightened a state was dangerous. To say the least.

“Hand Phaerce, please,” the Admiral spoke.

Haika calmed and sat. He panted. “I'm sorry, Admiral. I can understand her hesitancy. Please, just inform her that I will be more than happy to provide the new codes whenever she asks.”

“Of course,” Gandel nodded.

“It is awful, Maxwell,” Haika said, “that things could fall so low. I have a deep respect for you, and what you have managed to do with your fleet. But people like Corvae. I have killed them before.”

“I believe you, sir,” the Admiral replied.

“I think that we are done for now,” Haika said, “I'm sure you have other business. Contact me if you need any of my services. I am more than happy to provide them for an Imperial such as you.”

“Thank you, sir,” the Admiral said.

Haika stood and walked to the door. He stopped.

“You know, Gandel,” he said, “if it hadn't been for those damn Rebels, I think you could have been a Grand Admiral one day. Maybe that day will still come.”

He left.


Haika knew it must all be fake, the emotions, the feelings. He had put them on as a show.

Then why did they feel so real? Why did he actually feel anger at being ignored, why did his words feel truthful?

He had done it before. Why now?

The pumping pulse of pain was with him always now, just behind the eyes. Something was calling to him. A need had to be filled. He didn't know what that need was, but he knew it was there, and he knew it couldn't be sated by just anything.

He had more important things to focus on. More pressing things.

He needed to make sure Samuel Phaerce was in the new codes.

He marched along. He needed to find a tech officer, someone who could get the information in. He needed it fast. He needed it now.

He headed towards the mess hall. It would be the best option. He needed someone who was away from their regular work. They couldn't be seen.

He reached the hall and cast his eyes about. Groups of Imperials, showing what little individuality they had. Ordering pastas from the cooks, complaining about damp trays and other trivialities. They were human here.

He supposed they were human everywhere.

He finally saw one. A technical officer. He slid through the shadows, appearing behind the man as he sat.

“Technical Officer Splane?”

The man turned, speaking before he saw the intruder on his time. “Who's asking?”

He saw Haika.

“Oh…oh,” he dropped to his knees, begging, fear rolling off him in waves. “Forgive me, Hand Phaerce. I didn't know it was you.”

Haika savored his pain, his fear. The pain behind his eyes settled. Then he spoke. “Stand up, man. Only the Emperor deserves your pathetic groveling.”

The man did as he was told, instantly at attention.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course, sir,” the man saluted, “what is it?”

“Follow me and I will tell you.”

“Yes sir.”

Haika led the soldier through a maze of halls. There were parts of every ship that people didn't go to. That was where they were headed.

They came to a computer terminal in one of these empty areas. “I need you, TO,” Haika said, “to add me to the records.”

“What sir?”

“I am not in the Imperial codes. Add me.”

“But, sir,” Splane said, “you're a Hand.”

Haika grabbed the technical officer's face and twisted it to the terminal. With a flick of his wrist, the blades hidden in the forearm of his suit slid out, the points placed in the small of the man's back.

His fear was bliss.

“Add me to the codes,” Haika hissed, handing the man a chip with all the needed information.

“I can't do it from here,” Splane blabbered, “I'd have to be in the bridge.”

“That is a filthy lie,” Haika hissed, pressing the blades farther into the man's back. “Do it.”

The man gulped and began working. It took some time, but they weren't interrupted. Finally the man stopped.

“It's done,” he swallowed, “you're on the network.”

“No one will know that you added me?”

“No one.”

“You won't reveal anything?”

“Not a thing, sir,” he swallowed, “I know what you'd do to me sir, if I did.”

“You see,” Haika mused, “the thing is, I can't take your word.”

He swung the man about crashing him into the wall, then swinging him back to the terminal. “Clear the security cameras memory of the past thirty minutes, anywhere we've been.”

The man did.

“Turn them off for the next forty-five.”

The man did.

Haika swung him around, once again smashing him into the wall.

“Do you fear me?” A voice that wasn't Haika's asked.

“More than anything.”

“Good.”


Haika awoke in his bed. His head pounded. He couldn't remember where he had been before he fell asleep.

He sat up, stiff from sleeping in his armor. He rolled out of bed and cracked his neck. There was a burning sensation on his upper back, just below his right shoulder. It felt itchy and unpleasant, but not painful.

He took off his breastplate and pauldrons. Then he removed the armor on his arms and rolled down the undersuit. He went to the mirror his large room contained and checked.

Someone had carved the shape of a man into his shoulder. It was a primitive image, like cave paintings on some planets. The man was stooped, holding an object in his hand. A crown.

Haika swallowed. He couldn't remember this. He touched the wound. It was still raw. It stung when he touched it.

He would have had to be willing to do such a thing. Why couldn't he remember?

He rolled up the undersuit and put his armor back on. At least it would prevent him from itching the now scabbing wound.

The wound would leave a man-shaped scar.

Haika went to the door of his room and unlocked it. With a tap, it slid open.

Haika gasped.

The morning was getting worse and worse.

He turned to a comm and keyed in a code. The Admiral himself answered.

“Hand Phaerce?”

“Tell me, Admiral,” Haika asked, masking his fear, “is it a common occurrence to find a dead body outside one's door, or is this the first time?”

“What?”

“There is a body of a technical officer outside my door,” Haika explained, “he is pinned to the wall by his own ribs. This, I would assume, is an overt threat against my life. Is this a common occurrence?”

The Admiral blabbered random syllables for a moment before answering. “What is the man's name?”

“I can't see why that is relevant,” Haika turned, trying not to look at the open stomach, the exposed ribs, the guts on the floor. Most especially on the man's horrified face. The man had feared before his life was taken. He checked the name tag. “Splane. The man's name is Splane.”

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

Gandel tried to hide the shock and horror he felt welling up in him, and was afraid he hadn't succeeded. The scene was gruesome, moreso than anything he'd ever witnessed in combat. There death and carnage made sense. There was a reason for it, even if it was terrible. Here… who would have done such a thing? And why?

The entire hallway in front of Hand Phaerce's quarters had been cordoned off. Stormtroopers stood vigilant, allowing only specific persons access to the crime scene while members of ship's security and a team from the med bay began their analysis. It was the closest thing the fleet had to a criminal forensics team. They'd never needed one before… Gandel would find out who did this.

"What do we have so far?" he asked Captain Decker, who stood with him inside the security cordon.

"Technical Officer Liam Splane," Decker consulted the datapad he held. "He's been with the ship from the start. I've got Lieutenant Aster handling the investigation. He reports directly to me, and I'll make it known he has the authority to question whomever he sees fit. He already has ship's security questioning Splane's comrades. Somebody had to have seen something."

Gandel shook his head. "It makes no sense, captain. Why now? Why… like this?"

"We'll find the answers to those questions before we're through," Decker promised.

Gandel's eyes narrowed. Hand Phaerce thought this was somebody sending him a message. A threat. Who in their right mind would threaten an Emperor's Hand? Looking once again at the body - still pinned to the wall by it's own ribs - it was obvious that whoever had done this wasn't in their right mind. Which meant Phaerce could be right. "Review the security footage from the hangar," Gandel ordered. "If any of Phaerce's crew left their ship within the timeframe of the murder throw them in a cell and question them." He wished the rest of this ship was outfitted with security cameras. But this wasn't a reality holodrama, it was a warship, and only sensitive areas had cameras.

Gandel hoped it was one of Phaerce's people. The thought that one of his own could do something like this to a comrade in arms… "If Hand Phaerce objects?" Decker inquired.

"I'll tell him myself," Gandel sighed. For one thing, he wanted a few personal questions answered. Like how did an Emperor's Hand miss the sound of somebody being murdered and pinned to the wall just feet from his own door? And just how well did he know the men he'd come in with?

He set off down the hallway with a stormtrooper in tow. Decker had insisted on the bodyguard. If somebody was committing gruesome murders, the admiral was not allowed to become the next victim. Neither was Phaerce. Gandel had assigned him a 'round the clock guard, though the Hand hadn't been the least bit happy about it. He could see why. He doubted a Hand needed help protecting himself, but that wasn't the point. The point was to sent a clear message: Hand Phaerce was under the admiral's protection.

He was glad to see that the guard was still in place when he caught up to the Hand. He'd been worried Phaerce would scare him off, but it seemed his devotion to duty was intact. "Phaerce," he greeted.

"Ah, admiral," Phaerce returned the greeting. He sounded tired, Gandel thought. But the impression lasted only a moment, and then it was gone. Replaced by Phaerce's usual fiery demeanor. "What is it?"

"Tell me about the men on your ship." He had to check himself to keep from using his 'that's an order' voice, and in the end it still came out sounding more like a demand than a request. He wondered if Phaerce would take offense.

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

“Tell me about the men on your ship.”

Haika lifted an eyebrow. It sounded almost like an order. He grunted, deciding it was only mildly offensive. Hand's positions were ill-defined. He supposed he was unable to be properly ranked. He decided to simply follow the command.

“I'll be honest with you, Admiral,” Haika said. “I only know their captain with any certainty. Not long after the unfortunate…demise of the Emperor, I found the need for contacts in less-than-legal sectors of the Galaxy. Occasionally, I needed them to do missions, or run me from place to place. The Rebels could occasionally be troublesome, and it was best to remain under their sensors. Youngstar was one of my contacts. One of the best. I'd trust him with my life, and have in the past.”

“And the others?”

“Jax's crew goes through changes over the years,” Haika shrugged, “a man dies here, has to be replaced. A mission requires two extra hands, he hires them. A man fails, he's replaced. I don't know any of his current crew.”

“So any of them could be of less loyalty than Captain Youngstar?”

“Jax is a good judge of character. He wouldn't hire men who would do something like this.” Suddenly, Haika remembered Corjeck. “Although, one or two have slipped through.”

“So one of them might have been the murderer?”

“I suppose, although I find it less than likely.”

The Admiral nodded. “It makes sense to take them in, though. For questioning.”

Haika exploded at the thought. Any one of them could reveal his identity. Above all, that had to be kept safe. He couldn't be compromised. He wouldn't.

“I would, to be on the safe side, Admiral,” Haika nodded. “But go through your other leads first. Check the cameras, ask around to see if anyone saw anything. Pick up suspects when the leads show to. It can let the murderer get comfortable, get relaxed…lose security. By waiting, he may reveal himself.”

“Or strike again.”

Haika nodded. “That is a possibility, but a second murder would provide more clues. I'm not advocating letting the man go free. Just patience. Sometimes, patience is the greatest tool a person has. With patience, you can find the greatest time to strike.”

“Or miss it.”

“Opportunities always arise.”

“I suppose.”

“Just wait long enough to see if something surfaces. Tomorrow, perhaps, you could detain the crew. Just check to see if it wasn't someone else.”

“Of course.”

“Good. Now, if that is over, I was wondering if you heard back from the General.”

Gandel nodded. “She's willing to meet you tonight, if you are willing.”

“Of course,” Haika nodded, “where?”

“A shuttle will be provided to take you to a meeting place.”

Haika nodded. “What time?”

“1900 hours.”

“Perfect.” Haika turned. “If you don't mind, I need to see a medic. I need to get medication for these headaches.”

“Of course,” Gandel nodded, “your guards will accompany you.”

“I would expect no less.”


Haika made his way to the med bay, where he talked to the medic for only a few minutes before being handed a bottle of pills. The whole time, his brain was flashing ideas to eliminate the threat that Jax's crew held.

As he and his guard left, he tossed one of the men the bottle of pills.

“Carry these.” The order was casual but clearly threatening.

The man put them silently into a pouch.

“I have some personal items to retrieve from my ship. Now that I feel more comfortable here, I believe I can remove them from storage there into my quarters.”

“Of course, sir.”

Haika nodded once and made his way to the hangar in silence. The ship sat open.

He made his way up the ramp and into the ship. He could hear snores from one room. He went by and saw the crew. All but Jax and one other. Perfect.

Making his way to the secret panel, he opened it before the guards. They remained silent.

“Make sure none of those idiots comes over here,” Haika ordered, “none of them are to know of this place's existence.”

They took up guard. Haika entered.

Tapping the code to the safe, he could feel the presence of the crown. It settled him. The pounding behind his eyes seemed wiped away. A child-like smile momentarily glided across his face.

The safe swung open. Haika removed the case and set it on the ground. He turned. None of the guards was looking.

Also in the room was a small computer terminal, to be used to manually override the main controls. Haika activated it and tapped in some codes. An acknowledgment scrawled across the screen. Haika nodded.

Haika stood with the case and turned, leaving the secret place. He closed it and looked at the guards. One offered to take the case with the crown. Haika threw him a deadly glance.

“This is mine,” Haika hissed, “no one touches it but me!”

The man backed a step away.

“Someone seal those idiots away in their room. They are going to be arrested tomorrow, and I don't want them finding out and trying to make a dash.”

A guard nodded and headed off. One raised a suggestion.

“A crew member and the captain are missing.”

“The captain is not going to be detained,” Haika said. “The last crew member…well, we'll just have to find him, won't we?”

They nodded as one. The final guard returned and nodded that the door was locked and couldn't be opened from the inside.

The group hunted for likely places that the last crew member could be found. Slowly, Haika began ordering one or another to break of from the group, to meet them later at his quarters. They could cover more ground if they spread out, Haika explained. The men agreed, realizing that if the last man was the murderer, catching him could end their guard duty with the frightful Emperor's Hand.

Finally, Haika was down to one guard. All according to plan.

Entering some hallway that was primarily bunkers and quarters for low-ranking units (and a place that, on many ships, provided services like tattooing and cheaply made alcohol), they came across the crew member. Haika had known they would find him here. The man was fond of booze.

“Catch him!” Haika ordered, loud enough for the man to hear and realize he was the subject of the order. He turned to run, drawing his pistol (he had bought this, too, from one of the men here).

Haika's guard began running after the smuggler. Just as the guard was about to catch the man, the smuggler turned and fired a single shot.

Into the guard's head.

All according to plan.

Haika dashed forward, faster than the man could ever hope to be. He caught the man around the throat, driving him back. An act in case of cameras.

The man quickly raised his gun, knowing it would likely be snapped out of his hand in a moment. That was when Haika did something extraordinary.

He let himself be shot.

The blaster bolt struck Haika's shoulder from point blank. His armor dissipated most of the blast, but the wound beneath stank and burned wildly. Haika gritted his teeth.

All according to plan.

As the second shot came, Haika removed a saber and deflected the bolt, destroying the one visible security cam.

With that out of the way, he once again dashed forward, slicing the smuggler's hand off with the saber. He caught the man's throat again and smashed him into the wall.

“Yo-you're eyes…” the man stammered before the blade burned across his throat, leaving no trace against the wall.

Phaerce knew his eyes. They would be filled with blood, the whites dashed from existence. A side-effect of his control in this body. A tear of blood slid down his cheek.

He lifted the man's body and dragged him three feet over, to the chute to the trash compactor. With a practiced movement, he heaved the body in. It would never be found.

Then he released control. The fool, Haika, would believe what Phaerce wanted him to believe. He would think the man got away after shooting the guard and then the hand. It would condemn the smuggler. But the victim-turned-suspect would never be found.

Haika dropped to the ground, the pain of the wound driving him there. Blood dripped from his cheek, but he couldn't feel a wound. He crawled over, first to the guard. Dead. Next to the case. Safe.

Then he passed out.


“Our security footage shows that you were shot by a suspect,” Gandel explained, “from point blank with a heavily modified pistol. Your armor is all that kept you from death.”

Haika nodded from the med-bay bed he lay upon. He felt cold.

“How long have I been out?”

“A few hours.”

Haika nodded.

Suddenly, a voice came across the public comm.

“All available medics to landing bay! All available medics to landing bay!”

Gandel grabbed his own comm and spoke quickly. “What's happened?”

“The smuggler ship exploded, Admiral,” a voice replied.

Gandel cursed. “The suspect is clearing his trail.”

“Sir, we have worse news!”

“Get on with it,” Gandel ordered.

“The shuttle with Major General Corvae aboard was landing at the time,” the voice responded, “it was caught in the explosion. The General's been injured.”

Phaerce momentarily grinned. Two birds with one stone. The grin disappeared quickly.

Haika swung his legs from the bed. His shoulder burned, but he gritted through the pain. He'd been shot before. Never from so close, or with such a powerful weapon, but he could bear it.

“Let's go.” Haika said.

“You should stay here,” the Admiral stated. It wasn't an order. It was apparently out of care.

“I am a Hand, and damage has come to the Empire,” Haika replied matter-of-factly. “It is my duty to hunt down the traitor's and slice them from head to foot.”

He was already rolling his undersuit up over the bandages at his shoulder. There was a large hole. Haika would have to replace the suit.

Gandel acquiesced. “Yes, sir.”

Haika placed his armor on. The left pauldron was completely obliterated. He left it aside.

“Let's go.”

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

Life was much more interesting for Crewman Bazil these days. For one thing, there was a ship full of smugglers sitting in the main hangar. They'd come in with that force user everybody was talking about. The Emperor's Hand. Bazil wondered how he could still be an Emperor's Hand when there wasn't an Emperor anymore, but decided this wasn't worth thinking too closely about. Besides, the admiral seemed to have accepted him. From what Bazil heard the two met often.

But though the smugglers had come bearing Hand Phaerce, they were by no means above suspicion. They were still smugglers, after all, despite rumors that they were actually an elite group of undercover Imperial commandos. And if Phaerce was anything like Vader (and Bazil had no reason to think he wasn't) he was probably planning to kill the scum as soon as they were no longer of use. All the more reason to keep a close eye on them.

Oh, it wasn't really Bazil's responsibility. There were stormtroopers down there to do that. But Crewman Bazil had a unique vantage point on the situation. He worked, currently, in the hanger's control bay. It's large, sloping windows afforded him a magnificent view of just about everything, from the TIE racks to the parked shuttles. He also had control over the hangar's tractor beams and magnetic containment field. So he kept vigilant watch, ready to spring into action the moment they tried anything. So far he'd been rather disappointed.  Most of them just stayed on their ship. A handful had come and gone, but they weren't even trying to be sneaky about it.

A light on Bazil's control board clicked on, indicating that his comm unit was now active. Hangar control, Bazil recognized the voice of Lieutenant Hamish. He would be working flight control on the bridge about now, which meant there was a ship incoming.

"Go ahead," he responded.

Be advised, you have an incoming shuttle with Assault Gunboat escorts. They've been granted priority clearance to land, find a spot to park them.

"Copy, flight." Bazil hummed and looked over his board. Priority clearance… that would be somebody important. Better park them close to the exit, then. There were plenty of places open, and he chose one that was fairly isolated from the rest. He frowned when he noticed that any possible flight path would taken the shuttle close to the smuggler's ship, but there was no way to avoid that.

The lambda class shuttle came into view, gliding through the hangar's magcon field as it's wings folded gracefully closed. The gunboats came in just behind it. Manipulating his console, Bazil told the hangar's tractor beam to take hold of the ships and started guiding them towards their intended landing zone. He was so focused on this task he almost didn't notice the power surge. "McMaster," he called over to the other crewman in the control bay, "Verify the power readings from the smuggler ship. Are they powering up?"

McMaster, sitting some ways down the control console, frowned. "There's a power buildup in their reactor, but none of their systems are… Frack! Baz, she's gonna-!"

The smuggler's ship, once so harmless and peaceful, turned into a raging ball of destructive fury that swept across the hangar. Bazil barely had enough time to disengage the tractor beam before the shock wave hit the shuttle, and then the control bay.

****

For the second time in one day, Gandel stared in shock and horror. Phaerce stood beside him, grim faced, and the two surveyed the damage. There was hardly anything left of the smuggler's ship - or, rather, if there was anything left it was unidentifiable as such. Wreckage littered the deck. Parts of TIE fighters that had been near the ship, blown clear of their racks, had gone in every direction. He saw a solar panel sticking out of one shuttle's cockpit, having nearly sliced clean through it. A ball cockpit lay shredded against one wall. The control bay's hardened windows had shattered, and Gandel could see medical teams moving within it. There was even wreckage floating in space, blown out of the hangar and through the magcon field. Which, thankfully, had held.

The deck where the smuggler ship itself had sat was now nothing more than a ragged hole torn in the metal, the edges still glowing. Fires raged in at least two separate locations. Intrepid damage control teams worked feverishly to combat them, to keep them from reaching ammunition stockpiles of fuel reserves. They could have put them out by simply lowering the magcon field and sucking out all the oxygen, but that would kill any potential survivors. Despite the late hour, crews had been at work. Pilots had been in and out, and there were troopers who liked to use the wide open space for exercise.

It was bad. But it could have been worse. The hull hadn't breached, and the stockpile of warheads for the bombers was in no immediate danger of cooking off. And, thank the gods, General Corvae had survived the ill timed explosion. Her shuttle lay awkwardly on it's side, one wing torn off. Emergency crews had taken her, her staff, and her bodyguards to the med bay. Corvae herself was unconscious, which was why Gandel was here and not in the med bay. Once she was awake he would see her - and with any luck he'd have something to report.

All in all, it looked like an unfortunate coincidence that her shuttle had been in the hangar at the time. There was no way the smugglers on the ship could have known she was coming, that she was on that shuttle. It was yet another act of bloody violence, committed by the same person as before.

Gandel's horror turned to rage. He pulled the commlink from his pocket and switched it on. "Captain Decker," he demanded.

"Sir?"

"Put the ship on lockdown. Arrest," he glanced at Phaerce, "Arrest anybody from the smuggler the ship who's still alive. Initiate deck by deck sweeps. Search any compartment large enough for a person to hide. And put guards on every sensitive area. The last thing we need is for this maniac to start sabotaging critical systems."

"Affirmative sir. I'll have the ship's stormtrooper contingent mobilized shortly."

The commlink clicked off. He looked at Phaerce. "You… the Force. You can use it to do things people otherwise wouldn't be able to do. It's why you're a Hand. Can you use it to find people?" he asked. "To track down whoever did this?"

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

"You… the Force. You can use it to do things people otherwise wouldn't be able to do. It's why you're a Hand. Can you use it to find people?" Gandel asked. "To track down whoever did this?"

Haika raised his right hand to his chin, fearing that lifting the damaged left arm would cause permanent damage. He stroked the growth of beard there.

“I can,” he answered, “although finding people isn't one of my best skills. I am more in tune with what you might call the physical side of the Force. Augmenting my physical abilities and manipulating the physical realm. Tracking people is a mental Force ability. It involves finding the person's specific ,ind patterns and latching on. I can do it, but my findings will be imprecise at best.”

Gandel raised an eyebrow. “You are prone to visions, no? Isn't that a mental ability?”

“It is the one mental ability I have always been adept at,” Haika said, “the one exception to the rule.”

Gandel nodded. “So, you can find him?”

“I can't promise accuracy, but yes, I can find him.”

“Then do it,” Gandel spoke, “find him. I am going to detain their Captain, question him about the crew, where this man might go, what he might do next.”

Haika scowled. His tone of voice had been too authoritative, like he was giving orders. “I will track the man, but only because he is a threat against both what I perceive as the Empire's greatest hope and to myself. Your orders mean nothing to me, Admiral.”

Gandel shook his head. “I apologize,” he said, “this maniac is just wearing. Nothing like this has ever happened in my fleet before.”

“That is heartening to hear,” Haika said, “it surely can't be said about every Imperial group out there.”

Gandel nodded.

“It will take me time to sweep the ship,” Haika said, “I'll need solitude, quiet, to focus and do it properly.”

“I understand,” Gandel agreed.

“Also,” Haika spoke, “I feel it likely that my quarters may not be safe. I'll need other accommodations while I search.”

“You can take any place you see fit,” Gandel said.

“Just a quiet room, if you will,” Haika said.

Gandel nodded at one of Haika's guards. They had been heavily chastised for their failure. Most had been replaced, other than the first few who had been sent away. Their failure had been understandable. The last few were punished severely.

“Corporal Thatcher will take you to an appropriate place.” Gandel said.

“Thank you.” Haika replied, “I think we should both get to work, Admiral.”

“Agreed,” Gandel nodded , turning and heading for the wreckage for closer inspection.

“Oh, and Admiral?”

“Yes?”

“Do not worry,” Haika said, “ I have a feeling we won't have to worry about this man for long.”


Haika sat cross legged in the center of the room. Anything that could have gotten in his way was pushed up against the walls. His guards were just outside the entrance.

Haika controlled his breathing and pushed out with the Force for the third time. Every time he had done so, he had gotten the oddest sensation. Every time he reached out, he got the sense that someone, something, was watching, changing, shifting his perspective. Almost like another Force user was pressing back, almost un-noticeably, stopping Haika's senses. The shock of it had caused Haika to draw back every time.

Could there be another Force user on the ship? No, Haika would have sensed that long ago. He bit his lip.

Whatever was doing it was powerful, and sentient. It was insidious, creeping into Haika's senses like a cancer and causing them to shut down. Haika felt weak in comparison.

He determined not to pull back this time. He reached out, probing the ship. As his senses left the room, then the halls nearby, in an ever-increasing circle, Haika began to feel the thing's presence. It was odd, because the feeling didn't seem foreign. It wasn't placeable. It was almost like it was coming from inside Haika's own mind.

Haika pressed on. The farther his consciousness spread, the thicker the other presence felt, pushing back, pulling Haika's mind in. It felt like he was thinking through an ever thickening wall of mud.

Haika began to get a sense of the presence. Whatever it was, it was old. Older than Haika cared to know. And it was hateful. But it wasn't angry. Above all, the presence seemed almost joyful.

Haika pressed farther. It was becoming more and more difficult to do so. His mind was telling him to pull back, to stop fighting the presence.

The ship was slowly entering his consciousness. Every nook and cranny within his senses was visible to him. Every living creature was a glowing pinprick of the Force. Farther, Haika pressed.

He was reaching his quarters now. Now the med bay. A thing of the Force in the med bay, glowing brighter than any life.

The crown.

The presence Haika had been fighting drew back suddenly, and Haika's mind flooded the ship. He could sense the mind of the killer. He knew where it was.

Phaerce grinned through Haika's face. Pressing back had been working, but he supposed this was the most efficient route. He would convince Haika that he knew where the killer was, but by the time anyone reached it, it would be too late.

And by the time anyone came to suspect Haika, it would be too late for him too. Phaerce would have full control soon. The crown was the last piece. All Phaerce needed was the crown, and Haika's mind couldn't interfere any longer. It would be locked away.

It was irony, then, that Phaerce couldn't put on the crown himself. It had to be willingly put on by the host. Otherwise it wouldn't work.

But Haika wasn't far gone from that. He was already possessive, obsessive, deranged for the crown, whether he knew it or not. Its presence invaded his every thought.

That was how he had made it, of course. So that the one who would come to wear it would have no choice in the end.

All Haika needed was a push.

Haika opened his eyes. The killer was about to deal with the problem himself. He was about to airlock himself.

Haika stood and commed the Admiral.

“News, Hand Phaerce?”

“The killer is deranged,” Haika said, “he knows we're on to him. He knows he can't succeed in whatever plans he had. He's decided he'd rather know his end than have us choose it. He's airlocking himself with the garbage. Now.”

“What?”

“He's killing himself as we speak. The airlock is timed. He'll be jettisoned any second.”

“But we need to capture him, to interrogate him.”

“I know, but it is already too late. Nothing we can do will stop this. He's already dead. I just felt his life force go.”

“This isn't good. We have search patrols out for him. How are we going to explain that he escaped? How do we tell that to General Corvae when she comes to?”

“We tell them that we found him and executed him for his crimes. Then we jettisoned the body with the trash.”

“It will have to do. Thank you for trying, Hand Phaerce.”

“As for Captain Youngstar…”

“He will continued to be questioned until we can ascertain that he is not an accomplice. I admire your trust in him, but this is necessary.”

“Of course.”

“I suggest you get back to the med bay and have that shoulder checked. We have war business to deal with. All of this internal drama has been an unfortunate distraction.”

“I agree,” Haika said, “and I suppose, for now, you run the Imperial troops here uncontested. Congratulations, Admiral. You control Imperial Tapani.”

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

It wasn't the way Gandel had imagined himself taking control of Tapani's military machine. But then, he hadn't really imagined that he'd take it over in the first place. He and Corvae had settled into a comfortable working relationship, and at most he'd expected to take full control of the fleet assets under her direction. Nothing more. Now, he was the ranking officer in the sector.

Corvae's people back on Tallaan hadn't exactly been willing to take the situation at face value, and he could see why. With all the defections Imperial forces had suffered in the sector they were likely paranoid about opportunistic would-be warlords making power grabs. He'd been able to calm them down by assuring them Corvae was alive, that he was heading back to Tallaan so they could transfer her to their planetside medical facilities, and that as soon as she recovered he would cede control back to her.

He stood by her side now, reflecting on the situation. She had internal injuries, and bacta immersion could only do so much for those. Right now the droids had her sedated so she wouldn't worsen her injuries by trying to move.

Congratulations, Admiral. You control Imperial Tapani.

Hand Phaerce's words echoed through Gandel's mind. The implications were immense. He'd already spent countless hours going over information provided by probe droids and what was left of Imperial Intelligence operations in the sector. Apparently, while he was out here hunting pirates, Corvae had been working to take back lost ground. Several bases had been retaken thanks to negotiations with deserted military forces or through actual assaults. They were mostly minor targets and installations the Noble Houses wouldn't miss with their attention taken by the larger war.

It wasn't much, but it was progress. Gandel felt it was time to expand on those successes. How to do that was the question. Before reading through the intelligence reports, Gandel had thought of the situation as being fairly straight forward: Melantha vs Mecetti. Now it was clear that the entire sector had been plunged into utter chaos. According to the reports, House Pellagia and House Cadriaan had settled into an alliance with one another. Both were hunkered down against the storm raging through the sector, allied with no other major power and just trying to survive in the face of attacks by House Mecetti. They were currently no overt threat.

Mecetti was also overrunning House Barnaba, and though the two had no obvious alliance the boys at intelligence tentatively put Barnaba on the side of Melantha. Probe droids had spotted Melanthan warships in Barnaban space, sparring with Mecetti forces. Perhaps Melantha was assisting Barnaba just to spite Mecetti. He was more inclined to think of it as two vultures fighting over a fresh corpse.

And then there was House Reena, which looked to be ever the opportunist.  Their warships had been spotted attacking Barnabin, Cadriaan, and Pleagian forces. Intelligence tentatively placed them on the Mecetti side of the conflict, though their forces hadn't been seen acting in concert yet.

House Calipsa was finding itself hard pressed on all fronts, and it was only a matter of time before their defenses crumbled entirely. Their fight was all but lost, they just either didn't know it or refused to accept it. Refugees from Calipsa and just about every other area of conflict were flooding neighboring sectors. They were also flooding into the Free Worlds region of Tapani. The loose alliance of independent systems had thus far avoided most of the conflict, but it was only a matter of time before war came knocking. According to intelligence, they had marshaled what meager forces they could and nervously stood waiting for the inevitable strike from one Noble House or the other.

Intelligence had also been monitoring how the rest of the galaxy was looking at things, and their findings were interesting to say the least. The major holonet news networks were all over the "Crisis In Tapani", carrying regular updates on the situation and bringing in various experts to explore the situation. The Imperial Remnant remained predictably silent on the matter, having officially withdrawn. But the New Republic was quite vocal. It seemed there was a raging debate about whether or not they should involved their military forces in what some considered a regional conflict.

Gandel worried that they would decide to interfere. The situation here was bad enough without another New Republic fleet coming in to hunt the remnants of the 105th. Even with Corvae's other assets, the Tapani Imperials would be hard pressed to hold off a concerted New Republic effort at pacifying the sector.

All of which led into Gandel's current plans. He needed more forces, and with the threat of the Noble Houses coupled with the threat of New Republic 'pacification'… the Free Worlds regions seemed an obvious ally. All he had to do was convince them that they needed to work together for mutual survival. Well, that and convince them the Tapani Imperials were a kinder, gentler Empire. One that wouldn't try to impose their will upon their allies once the conflict was resolved.

The propaganda possibilities for such an alliance were remarkable. Once allied with the Free Worlds, he could hold it in the face of the New Republic if they tried to interfere in the sector. Tell them that Tapani's problems would be solved by the Tapani Sector, that outside interference was unwelcome.

He'd already ordered Corvae's forces to get in touch with the Free Worlds - for now, they could believe that she was still in charge. When the time came for meetings, he would be Corvae's emissary. After all, it would go a long way towards the image of a kinder, gentler Empire to have a woman in charge of the entire operation. Gandel's own record wouldn't hurt, either. He hadn't been around to perpetrate any of the evils that the old Empire was slandered with, and he'd been under Thrawn's command.

He was hoping that would work to his advantage elsewhere. Using the holonet, he'd started broadcasting recruitment calls. The Empire in Tapani was under siege, abandoned by an Imperial Remnant who didn't have the stomach to fight in their own defense, who abandoned the civilians in the sector to violence and destruction. Rally to General Corvae's 1st Tapani Battlegroup and Admiral Gandel's 105th Imperial Fleet, valiant and beleaguered defenders of order and stablity, of safety and security, of the innocent and the weak, of Imperial honor and ideals!

He'd thought it was rather good, though there had been concern from some about the blatant use of the 105th Fleet in the broadcast. It might attract New Republic attention, but it might also be a draw for other Imperials. It was a risk he was willing to take.

Of course, if one was going to win real propaganda points one needed a victory. The question was, where could he gain a meaningful victory without danger of total defeat? There had to be something, somewhere…

He looked down at Corvae, lying motionless in the medical berth. "With any luck," he told her, "By the time you retake command we'll be on our way to winning this little war." He glanced up at the medical droid on duty. "If anything changes, you let me know immediately."

"Of course, sir," the droid responded.

************

Gandel stood with Hand Phaerce, studying a holographic map of the sector. "Procopia," Gandel said. "It's the Sector Capital… well, it was before this war started. Now it's been all but abandoned by the various political leaders. It's still a major symbolic prize, though. Frankly I'm surprised nobody's made a move for it yet. It only has light defenses of it's own, and it generally relied on fleet assets from whatever Noble House had the upper hand in politics. That was Mecetti when the war broke out, but as things escalated they withdrew their forces to participate in offenses against Melantha. Nominally they still control the system. But any concerted effort could take it with ease."

"And you want to take it?" Phaerce questioned.

Gandel smiled. "What better way to show the Sector we mean business? Besides, the aim wouldn't be to occupy it, or even land troops unless we absolutely have to. No, I'm talking about 'liberating' the sector capital from the hands of the Noble House that started this war. If nothing else, it will get everybody's attention. At best it will gain us some good will, maybe even allies and new recruits."

"And what if Mecetti decides they want to take it back?"

"House Mecetti has spread themselves thin," Gandel mused. "When the war started, their initial targets were Pelagia and Melantha. While they've had some initial success against Pelagia, House Cadriaan has bolstered their ally's defenses and Melantha has held it's own. And now Mecetti is mired in fighting the remnants of the Barnaban navy who, according to Intel, are not taking very kindly to the destruction of their capital. They've also waded into Calipsa, which turned into a three way fight when Melantha decided they wanted a lot of the same territory. In other words," he turned turned to face Phaerce, "If we put enough tonnage on top of Procopia, they won't be able to take it back very easily. Not without taking forces from other vital areas. I think they'll let us have it, at least in the short term."

Phaerce nodded, looking thoughtful. Gandel searched his face for some sign of what he was thinking. "I'd like your input," he added honestly.

Re: The Noble Wars: Tapani Civil Wars (Open)

Haika stroked his face slowly, staring at the map. High strategy was beyond his realm. He was a warrior, a fighter, not a planner. He sighed.

“I'll be honest with you, Admiral,” he said, “I am not much of a tactician. My expertise is in sabotage, intelligence and political elimination. Control of governments is one thing…” Haika waved a hand at the map, “this is another. I will trust your judgment on the matter.”

Gandel nodded once. “Thank you.”

“However, I say this,” Haika continued, “I know how the current system works. It may be a little different than you remember. They are obsessive, domineering, egotistical bastards, the leaders of these holes-for-worlds. And, as you have said, this is the Capital. An important symbol indeed. A gem, really, a prize. And nobles love their prizes and trophies. They glance at them, smiling at how their greed has won them these lovely playthings. Then they forget about them until someone else takes them away. Like children. And, like children, they will fight to get their old possessions back. You may not hold the world as easily as you think. Mecetti will throw their tantrum, and it may be a big one.”

“I'm sure we can handle it,” Gandel replied.

“I am too,” Haika agreed, “but be ready for bigger backlash than you were expecting.”

Gandel nodded.

“On the upside, by liberating the space above Procopia, we effectively gain control of the weapons beneath. With a slight maneuver of words, a small arsenal could be ours.”

“A small arsenal,” Gandel nodded, “barely a proper prize.”

“You never know what may be important. You never know what might be kept down there. A capital is ripe with government toys. We may find more than we thought.”

“True.”

Haika turned for the door. He stopped suddenly, a headache ripping from behind his eyes. His muscles tensed instantly, pain ripping down his spine, into his stomach, his chest. His legs felt weak. He began to fall. Gandel dashed for him, catching him a moment before he hit the ground.

Haika regained his legs and raised his hand to his mouth, blood coming away with it. He spat into his palm, more blood soaking onto his armor.

“Hand Phaerce!” Gandel looked shocked.

“I'm fine,” Haika growled, “I'm just…”

“Just what?”

“Having difficulties with this body,” Phaerce spoke, “let's say it's having difficulty accepting the treatment I'm putting it through.”

“You have been shot,” Gandel pointed out, “and you haven't been taking it easy. Go to the med bay, get yourself fixed.”

“I'll try,” Haika spoke, rubbing his head. “But I would like to have a talk with Captain Youngstar first. I believe that I can get any evidence against him that he may be holding back. If there is none, he will be set free. If there is, I won't hesitate in killing him myself.”

“I thought you were sure he was innocent.”

“I am,” Haika said, “but if he has deceived me, my vengeance will be swift and public.”

Gandel nodded.

“Good evening, Admiral,” Haika said as he left.

“Get yourself rested,” Gandel repeated, “you are an asset too important to lose.”

Haika left.


Haika sat on the other side of the bars from Jax. He remained silent for several moments, studying his friend's face.

“Tell me you didn't do it,” he said softly.

“You know I didn't,” Jax hissed.

“Say it.”

“I didn't aid any murderers,” Jax glared, “and there were none on my ship.”

“I'd like to believe you, Jax,” Haika waved to his left shoulder, and the wound he sported, “but the evidence is there to see.”

“My crew were all stable,” Jax said, “not like some.”

Haika peaked an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“This has gone on too long, Samuel,” Jax's eyes burned holes in Haika's face, “you're losing it. You're not in your right head. I've seen it. I've known you too long not to. You're losing who you were.”

Haika breathed deeply. “You're changing the subject. Did you help your crew member murder not only a tech officer on this ship, but your whole crew?”

Jax shot to his feet and screamed. “No! He didn't murder anyone! You did! You're the only killer on this ship! I've seen and heard things you've done!”

Haika shot towards the bars and grabbed Jax's lapels. He twisted his wrists, and the devices he had hidden in his gauntlets slipped out: a small piece of folded flimsi and a keycard.

Haika's voice was a hiss audible only to Jax.. “I've given you what you need to get out. But I'm too far gone. I can feel it. I'm not by myself in here anymore. Get back to Pelagia, tell them to pull out, run. The Imps are going to win this one.”

Jax gulped. “What's going on?”

“I don't know,” Haika tossed Jax back as if in a rage. He screamed his next words. “This man is lying! He is a murderer and a spy and scum. Tomorrow, he is dead! Tomorrow, he will be destroyed for his crimes!” Haika turned to the camera in the room. “Have guards escort him to an airlock first thing in the morning. I will throw the switch myself.”

Haika turned and left the room.


Jax sat down on the small cot. He knew he didn't have much time until guards came to beat him. They did things like that before executions. Beat the prisoner to within an inch of life.

He reached into his shirt and turned his back to the camera. He pulled out the key and the note.

He read it.

Jax,

There is little time to explain. There is a presence consuming me. I have lost control of it, I'd lost control before I even knew it existed. But today, I had one of the spasms, and the presence was there, and I felt it. It is stronger than me. I cannot push it back much longer. Get off the ship. There is a ship waiting for you in the destroyed hangar .Get the frak out. The presence will be after you next. You are the last loose thread.

H.

Jax shook his head, and stuck the flimsi in his shirt. He twisted, checking the camera. He sighed and went to the door of the cell. In a second, he had it open. He had the camera destroyed a moment later. He was running soon. Haika had been thorough. There was no one stopping him. He encountered no one. He followed the least likely paths. He came to the hangar. Only then were there people, but he could avoid them. And there were still ships here. And one which was conspicuously ready for flight.

He got in. He started it up. It wasn't until he was out of the Star Destroyer that anyone realized that he had taken off without permission. He was gone before the chase even began.

***

Haika stumbled, his muscles seized, blood in his mouth, his nose. He could feel his ears pounding. He was in more pain than he could imagine, but that presence kept pushing him. It was what kept him on his feet.

Then he was before the case with the crown. Then it was open.

Then the crown was in his hands. Then it was on his head.

Haika wasn't there.

There was only Phaerce.