Author - I lwk dont want to go back to uni but if I want a better paying job I must. Why can't I win the lottery I would have made writing my full time thing and I'd probably write 2/3 more stories at the same time. I know I deff want to write a Command and Conquer story (tiberium) starting a bit before events of the 3rd game as a teen who joins the brotherhood of nod and climbs up the ranks (Only have a rough draft so far).
Anywho enjoy.
Pa tre aon - Deluxee
****
A few days after Thrawn's arrival, Elyria felt less like a battlefield and more like a stage under military lighting that every eye in the galaxy looked toward, more or less.
The Seventh Fleet owned the upper orbits. Local repair schedules had been rewritten around Navy inspection windows and major Valenne's people still moved through records and prisoner blocks for the second time now, as if something new will materialise from there.
In public I remained the loyal governor who had placed his declared ships under High Command with a smile on his face and kept his head bowed while greater offices decided what the hell to do with this corner of the galaxy.
However in private, I thought that Darnis still had too much air left in his lungs and I took it personally.
I spent the morning in a closed civil office with Harlan, Lira, and two trusted information cutouts who had never held formal rank and never would. No uniforms or official seals. Just people who knew how a rumour had to travel or where to put right amount of credits if it wanted to arrive as local knowledge instead of blatant and targeted propaganda.
"We will not announce anything from the palace, not even a whispered breath. The moment someone even suspects this came out of this system or even the surrounding ones the credibility tanks." I said.
Harlan nodded while looking over his slate.
"Keep the structure simple," I said and waved my in the direction of the holo. "He is gathering residual ships from loyal captains and private contractors. He is contacting mercenary groups. He intends to put up a fight rather than submit to review, he is no longer acting like a man who expects to remain Moff by law."
Lira glanced up. "And the hooded figure?"
That one I disliked even as I used it.
"A sighting near his palace," I said. "Hooded and armed with a fire-sword, no need to give him a name or his precise description. Just enough to jog the memories of officials who still remember Jedi and their ilk."
Atii, who had been leaning against the wall with her arms folded, made a low sound. "That one can burn back toward us, especially if the Inquisitors decide the sweep the entire sector and they do not really do things gently and many have died just because they looked wrong at them, even governors." She gave me a look filled with worry.
"I know." I rubbed the faint scar at my temple and stared at the muted city map on the table. "If it spreads too well, Inquisitors or worse may eventually ask why such stories grow so easily around this sector. So it stays thin as a whisper, not a full on shouting from top of the building."
One of the cutouts, a thin woman with a transport broker's accent, tapped her fingers once. "People believe anger faster than theology. Lean on the rage. Say he is raving in closed sessions, saying the sector betrayed him that the Empire abandoned him."
"Then use it," I said. "Delusional or enraged I dont care how you word it. Talks about traitors under every floorboard. Make him the kind of man we want him to be, should be easier now that its revealed he sanctioned an operation against his good and 'loyal' subjects, which is us."
We spent the next hour shaping it all and adding details.
We made sure not 1 rumour is going to be identical but all of them will have some similarities.
One version for dockside gambling rooms, heavier on mercenaries and secret musters.
While another would be for administrative clerks, heavier on irregular orders and sealed communications.
And another for the nervous and still jumpy merchants, with emphasis on the possibility that Darnis would rather burn the sector to the ground then give up his grip on power, add in some sprinkling that he might seize their cargo and ships or even take them as hostages and it looks beautiful.
The jedi story will be spread only through encrypted channels that will then filter to the wider public starting from some drunk talk and some gossip a bartender droid spilt on a customers request.
Before they left, I made the boundary explicit. "If anyone asks who told you, you overheard it from someone already frightened, or heard it in passing in a bar or a club. If anyone presses for proof, you become uncertain and ask them to question other people because they may have gotten a clearer picture and when they do they will also learn of the jedi and then spread it themselves. Certainty is for evidence, we do not want evidence what we want is just some... harmless rumours."
After they were gone, the office felt larger and quieter. Through the window I could see a Navy shuttle cutting down toward the military quarter, one more reminder that the system belonged only to me in name but not reality.
That afternoon I returned to ordinary work which means, more god damn paperwork. I need top quality administrative droids but each of them has to be custom made and the order list is extensive, they cant be second rate because one fuck up and you have to dig through half a year worth of documents within a week and I do not want that.
Though if anyone is spying like the ISB and should they reconstruct my day, they would find a governor buried in stacks and stacks of paperwork while drinking a somewhat concerning amount of coffee.
By the end of the week it was possible to tell which stories had grown legs and which had died on the road.
The strongest by far was the image of Darnis enraged and detached from reality. That one spread through Vordax offices and neighbouring administrative posts with almost no help after the first push, seems he really has been going cuckoo. Clerks repeated that he had flown into rages at senior staff, accused long-time allies of betrayal, and spoken as if the sector itself had become a conspiracy against his house. Whether every detail was true no longer mattered. Enough people wanted it to be true that the story fed itself, my favourite is that he stripped naked and started raving in his room and smashing things left and right.
Close behind it came the mercenary talk. Route operators began "recalling" strange charter inquiries and private security companies being asked about availability with some of those recollections may even have been real. Panic and confusion makes memory a bit funky.
The claim that he was gathering residual ships also travelled, though not as much: naval clerks, freighter captains, a few planetary defence officers. It became accepted enough that when neutral systems refused new requests from his office, several cited "instability risk" without needing further encouragement.
The hooded fire-sword figure remained the weakest, it moved through taverns and lower-exchange rooms, picked up some colour, then stalled against more practical fears.
People could believe a Moff was cornered and dangerous fewer were ready, yet, to rearrange their lives around a possible Jedi ghost in his halls. That rumour stayed alive in the background like a bad smell under floorboards: not dominant but neither was it gone. All in all that rumour stayed that a background rumour nothing more.
By week's end, in enough places that counted, Darnis Jerjerrod no longer sounded like a sitting Moff under uncomfortable review. He sounded like a man already halfway to the gallows who has lost his marbles. Who is delusional enough to do something irreversible, and isolated enough that official hesitation itself could be framed as negligence.
****
The summary reports were still open on the table when the disappointment settled in properly.
A week of careful but spicy rumour spreading, and what had it bought me? Squad.
Just chatter to make clerks nervous and enough repetition to make Darnis sound unstable in half the sector's lower offices. And from the most important blue man in orbit, one dry instruction to monitor rumours spreading among the Elyrian population and surrounding areas, as if I were a local sensor buoy rather than the hand that had set the wind moving.
I shut the displays hard enough to make the frame click.
Rusty looked over from the corner. "You are displeased."
"I am underwhelmed." I replied with a slight grimace of disappointment.
I then stood, paced once to the window, and stared at the night grid of Havenridge under Seventh Fleet shadow, the lights of the massive ships themselves could light up the entire city like its daylight if they descended lower.
"Rumors are supposed to create urgency or a greater sense of unease instead these ones created conversations. Conversation is what keeps men like Darnis alive long enough to bargain or weasel themselves out of this situation."
Atii had gone off-shift while Harlan was buried in tax-relief drafts for the clans. That left me the one channel I never opened when too many loyal ears were in the room.
"Rusty," I said. "Hard seal and no recording to local archive."
He obeyed. The office dampeners came up with a low pressure change that always made my ears ring for a second. Only then did I open the private line into the dark infrastructure almost no one in my government could admit existed and if they do I am afraid of what I would have to do to them.
Grok's image resolved to show a calm, super tactical frame motionless against a dim command background. "Governor."
"The rumour campaign is not performing up to standard even with your droids spreading some of them on the capital world," I said. "It is not enough for us and Thrawn's response was to tell me to monitor rumours."
"Time favours the side that uses it, Darnis Jerjerrod retains residual administrative access, private contacts, and the possibility of a negotiated survival if central authorities decide removal is messier than management. Probability of him reaching some sort of a deal is around 49.33% recurring."
"I know." I rested both hands on the table and leaned in. "There is an ISB officer moving toward the sector capital, should arrive within a day or two, bound for Vordax. I want that mission broken before it becomes another controlled process Darnis can survive, he survived two audits already he might as well survive a third."
Grok was silent for a fraction longer than polite processing required. "Clarify desired end state."
"Destroy the inbound ISB element if you can do it cleanly and at distance," I said. "If you cannot, then Darnis dies on the ground. Use embedded assets or reprogrammed units or even blow his entire palace complex to the ground if you have to, I dont care. I want a threat against Elyria to be dealt with. Permanently. "
"You are ordering the assassination of a Moff and, conditionally, the destruction of an Imperial Security Bureau mission while Grand Admiral Thrawn holds your system."
"Yes."
Another pause. Not refusal. Calculation sharp enough to feel like resistance.
"Risk assessment is severe," Grok said. "Current attention density around this sector is abnormally high. Navy High Command presence, active ISB review residue, public political volatility. A failed strike creates more danger than a delayed one. A successful strike with recoverable method creates almost as much."
"Then do not fail, and do not be recoverable."
"Those are preferences, not guarantees." Grok's photoreceptors adjusted minutely. "I can continue preparation. Existing work already includes theft and reprogramming of local service droids in Vordax administrative and residential grids for remote leverage. That network is not yet mature. Accelerating it increases detection probability."
"Accelerate anyway." My own voice sounded thinner than I liked in the sealed room. "Darnis does not get to use process and corrupted legal system as an armour to survive and then strike us again. If the Empire wants him under review forever, he will crawl out of it but If someone removes him during the confusion, the declaration follows the body. He has more than enough enemies both in sector and others including the core."
Rusty shifted by the wall, metal plates soft under the dampeners. "Creator, this action is irreversible in political consequence."
"So was sending a fleet at my cities," I said, not looking away from Grok. "I am done being the only one in this sector who pays in blood."
Grok processed that without moral commentary. "Order accepted under specified constraints: hidden method, no open attribution, priority on the inbound ISB mission if interdiction is possible, terminal option against Darnis Jerjerrod if mission destruction is nonviable or insufficient. I will not use assets that create an obvious Elyrian signature."
"Do it."
The link held a moment longer, two machines and one tired human governor in a sealed office under a sky full of someone else's fleet. Then Grok inclined his head by the exact degree that meant execution rather than debate.
"I will begin. NIDA (New Independent Droid Army) will test and showcase its subterfuge skills with this mission governor."
The channel died.
I left the dampeners up for a few seconds after, listening to my own pulse in the quiet.
I dropped the seal after a few more moments of silence and sat back down on my chair and went back to work.
****
After a few more days of stewing and people getting more information and talking things over it seems that there is some clan trouble brewing, not like its an open revolt or something more like delayed replies from council contacts, and a formal request from Thorn-Root for a closed meeting that was worded politely enough.
By the time I called the inner group in, Harlan already had three separate notes from market overseers saying plains traders were holding back surplus "until local trust with the local sky people government is settled."
Elara came first, braid dark against her shoulder, her red face having been put into that careful neutral mask she always wore when something is bothering her or she was angry and trying to be useful anyway. Jaster took the wall to her left for once out of his armour suprisingly, while Atii sat on the table edge until Harlan's look made her move to a chair.
Torv remained by the door with Rusty beside him, Reza attended by holo from orbit, a muted blue figure over the end of the table.
"Speak plainly," I told Elara.
Elara rested both hands on the chair back in front of her and did not sit. "Thorn-Root stood with you through pirates, through the Moff's war, through rationing and recruitment. That loyalty is not infinite if it starts looking one-sided. The Sun clan elders died in a fire the official report still calls an accident, no one in the plains believes in that kind of accident anymore. They might have been disliked and arrogant but they were still clan elders of one of the oldest clans."
Atii's eyes cut toward me, then away.
Harlan cleared his throat. "It is not only Thorn-Root. Ash-Fen has asked whether emergency seizure rules are being applied unevenly. Red-Current's junior speakers have started saying the capital protects its favourites and disciplines the rest by night and paperwork. Even Stone-Vale, which rarely speaks unless grain is involved, sent a query about collective punishment."
"They think I ordered a massacre and then put a tax form over the ashes," I said.
Elara's answer came without ornament. "Some do. More suspect you found local collaborators, punished them outside visible law, and now expect the rest of us to swallow it because the Empire is watching and are afraid of making any noise. That suspicion is enough to make loyal clans uncomfortable my clan included."
I could have said the Sun was a traitor working with Jerjerrod and they provided the enemy with provisions in the warehouse I could have said the undercity route had local hands on it. I could have said wartimeand legal process rarely share a calendar. None of that would have held as cleanly as Elara needed it to, not with elders dead and us still calling it misfortune without trying to pacify the rest and to bring more stability in their life.
Reza's holo flickered slightly. "From a stability perspective, discomfort is already a cost. If plains output slows while High Command is in-system, they may start investigating the causes and it might damage your reputation that you can't get a grip on the natives living here."
"I know." I leaned both palms on the table and looked from face to face. "I am not opening a public confession theatre for Navy and ISB to sit in on. Not while Thrawn is overhead and Darnis is still breathing somewhere on Vordax. But ignoring this makes it worse."
"So buy time," Atii said.
I started thinking a bit on solutions or temporary stop gaps, coming up with something a few minutes later I turned to Harlan. "For three months the tax burden on clan-administered production and internal plains trade cut by half, it is only temporary, and set up an official day of mourning for the lives lost in the accident. Framed it as recognition for systems and communities that held through invasion and sabotage. Do not point fingers or name any clan named as suspect in the announcement just bring everyone together in celebration of victory."
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling while thinking what else to add to that.
"Open the emergency stores beyond the wartime minimum. Push staple prices down through the civic markets and authorized plains depots, grain, protein bars, preserved vegetables, medical basics. Make the next three months materially easier to live through than the last three."
Elara studied me for a long second. "That will help the quiet majority. It will not satisfy the ones who want blood answers."
They can stuff it for all I fucking care.
"I do not need them satisfied," I said. "I need them not forming a second front while I am being inspected by half the Empire. You tell Thorn-Root the investigation into collaborators continues through evidence and names, not through clan-wide blame. If they have proof, I will hear them. What I will not do is put the plains into collective trial because one warehouse.
Her mouth tightened, but she nodded. "I can carry that. I cannot promise it will be loved."
"Better than I hoped."
Torv spoke from the door, voice low. "If you drop taxes and open stores, dissenters may use the breathing room to organize more cleanly."
"They may." I looked at Rusty. "Which is why you increase monitoring on the loudest voices. Look at any route changes or sudden hospitality toward outside agents, money moving to weird places. If someone wants to turn discomfort into conspiracy, I want to know before it grows teeth but do not act on it, once we have enough evidence we will submit it officially to the native elder council for review and judgment on the guilty.
Rusty's photoreceptors dimmed and brightened once. "Define priority list."
"Anyone, though prioritise the Sun clan. They are bound to be the biggest dissenters."
Elara just sighed defeated and tired. "If one of mine is stupid enough to do something, better you catch them than the Empire does."
Jaster gave a short approving breath through the nose. Reza signed off after confirming orbital stores could support the food release without stripping fleet reserves, under Thrawn he is being run ragged and he is put to the same standard as the rest of the fleet.
Meanwhile Harlan left with a draft already half-built around survival, unity, and reward for endurance. Atii waited until most of the room had cleared before saying, quietly, "You're patching the hull while the ship is still in a fight."
"That is what patching is for," I said.
After they were gone, Elara remained long enough to stand with me at the window. Below us, Havenridge's repair lights made the damaged districts look almost festive if you did not know better.
"You are changing the way you hold power."
"I am trying to keep a system intact under scrutiny," I sighed as I answer.
She did not argue she only nodded then left.
****
Pellaeon's call came through just after the tax-relief drafts left my desk, while the ink-stamp field on the last civil order was still warm.
His image resolved at half-length over the office emitter: older, precise, dressed in the kind of naval formality that never looked performed. There was no fleet-bridge chaos behind him, only a clean bulkhead and the quiet confidence of a man used to being obeyed without needing to raise his voice.
"Governor Voss," he said. "You've had a hard season."
"We've had a decisive one," I answered, and then, because this was Pellaeon and not a local clerk, I stood at attention.
He almost smiled. "I have reviewed the available summaries of your defence and the subsequent political mess around Moff Jerjerrod. Not all of it is neat however, some of what has come to light regarding your methods, procurement channels, and independent force development may complicate any rapid formal rise. The Empire rewards loyalty more easily than it rewards improvisation."
Thats a bummer, I wanted to become Emperor by the age of 25.
Then he continued, steadier. "That said, you held a system against a reckless campaign against overwhelming odds, preserved a civilian population under pressure, and demonstrated practical command competence under conditions where many governors would have filed for rescue and waited to die. Dedication, loyalty under fire and battle judgment. Those however still do matter."
The office around me felt briefly larger for containing that kind of recognition from him, well at least someone recognises my talent, happy days.
"I expect you will see a generous reward once the present disorder is settled," Pellaeon said.
As the younger generation would say, this is fucking pogchamp.
"Not only through words but material support , the exact shape of it will depend on how cleanly the Jerjerrod matter ends and how carefully you conduct yourself while higher offices are watching."
Well I can always call off Grok I guess...
"I remain a servant of the Empire," I said.
This time his smile did appear.
He gave a brief chuckle. "Yes. And a clever and resourceful one at that, keep being useful, Governor. Usefulness and loyalty to the Empire brings great rewards as you will soon come to realise."
He asked, briefly, after the state of Elyria's docks and whether Thrawn's presence had stabilized local panic. I gave him the public truth: repairs ongoing, markets kind of tense, fleet presence was scaring the local population a bit but they feel safer now at least.
He offered no gossip about Darnis and no demand for private confessions, that was Pellaeon's style. He applauded the win, marked the irregularities, and left the future to the future.
Before closing, he added one last line, almost mild. "There are people in central command who prefer their outer-rim governors quiet and dependent. Be prepared for both gratitude and resentment."
"I am," I said.
The channel ended.
I exhaled and sealed the call log under routine naval correspondence and called for the next report.
I can't wait for the rewards. Maybe I can ask for expediated process for the administrative droid? It would be worth not having a star destroyer if I can just not be stuck in this room almost all day everyday.
At least the chair is comfortable.
****
The news reached Elyria in broken waves, first as priority security alerts, then as public channels fighting each other for the cleanest version of a ground breaking story.
I was chilling on my balcony with bowl of fruit and star wars equivalent of apple juice when the first sealed notice came through from a sector relay: critical incident on Vordax Prime. Multiple fatalities at a formal banquet hosted under Moff office authority. Names still being confirmed among the dead, an ISB investigative officer Lian Tsu-ijian and most of his traveling entourage. Also dead were several local political figures who had, in recent weeks, drifted into open criticism of Darnis Jerjerrod.
Holy, Grok sure out did himself but that is not what I fucking tasked him to do now was it?
Mire mouth agape scrambled for the remote to turn on the major channels so that everyone in our little relaxation group could see it.
Instantly a holo projection went up, it also showed the difference between worlds based on how it was being reported.
Core-world news stations spoke in careful institutional grief, if I didn't know any better I would have though they are droids with synthetic skin thats how fake their grief looks like. One Coruscant desk anchor, hair perfect and voice soft with practiced gravity, called it "a horrific act of political violence at the edge of lawful administration" and asked whether outer-rim offices had become too personal to remain stable and like with the old seperatist spaces they should be clamped down harder by the military and naval wings of the empire.
A naval analysis program on a mid-core network showed stock footage of Star Destroyers and talked about chain-of-command failure, carefully avoiding certain topics that would throw shade at the navy.
Outer-rim channels were less polite.
A Ryloth-facing exchange broadcast played a grainy banquet-hall exterior and a commentator with a harsh accent said outright that Darnis had tried to cut the head off both Imperial review and local opposition in one sitting to secure the planet from internal threat.
While a a Bothan-leaning information service refused to assign guilt and instead repeated, over and over, that whoever benefited from the chaos should be watched twice, in the same breath they talked about how in Hutt-space pirate someone laughed through a translator module and called Vordax "a banquet where the main course was corpses of you rivals."
Most narratives, though, hardened in one direction.
Darnis Jerjerrod as deranged, as cornered and as a threat to Imperial order.
One popular strip-news stream out of the neighbouring region there ran a scrolling banner:
MOFF BANQUET MASSACRE - LOCAL OPPONENTS AND ISB TEAM DEAD - WAS THIS A COUP ATTEMPT BY THE HOUSE IN POWER?
Another, more official bulletin from a sector-adjacent government office used softer language: "Pending full investigation, administrative authority on Vordax is to be treated as compromised. Citizens and local commands are advised to obey only authenticated central directives."
Then the real hit landed.
A priority Imperial transmission overtook every lesser feed, the seal of the Grand Vizier's office burning gold at the center of the wall. Mas Amedda's image appeared on screen and in a formal, crushing cadence he declared Moff Darnis Jerjerrod a traitor to the Galactic Empire, accused him of acts against Imperial stability and lawful governance, and ordered that he be apprehended by any means necessary for judgment before the Emperor.
No invitation to debate or plead or a pathway back to quiet retirement.
Traitor
Holy fuck what is going on? Grok what kind of shit did you pull out if that shit is tracked back to me I will be hanged for inciting sector wide violence or something.
The entire area went still enough that I could hear the cooling fans in the emitter stack.
Atii whispered, "He's finished."
Torv snorted "He's fucked thats what he is."
"He's declared finished," Harlan corrected, voice thin. "Those are not always the same thing."
I barely heard them. My eyes were still on the casualty roll now attached to the banquet reports. ISB officer some known anti Jerjerrod critics along with a handful of names I recognized from older coalition side-channels as men who had hated Darnis without ever committing to me.
I excused my self for a bit and went to my office once inside I told Rusty to seal it
The dampeners came up, local archive markers went dark, only then did I open Grok's private channel.
He appeared in the usual calm standing posture.
"Grok," I said. "What in the absolute fuck did you do!? I said to destroy the ISB officer in transit once that is impossible to kill Dernis. Not to stage a red wedding styled massacre for fuck sake!"
"Although I do not know what you mean by red wedding, I must state that it was not mine or any droid from NIDA."
I blinked a couple of times and tilted my head in confusion, mouth opening and closing.
What the fuck?
"Grok... Clarify?" I did not intend to make it sound like a question but yet it came out like that.
Grok's head tilted by a precise degree. "My units were still in preparation, the remote-control network was incomplete and out of position for ideal assassination conditions on the primary or secondary target. Primary method involved theft and reprogramming of service and household droids already inside relevant areas in the palace, to be coordinated from distance at the correct window. That window had not yet opened. We had not struck."
There was something almost like disappointment under the clinical phrasing, as much as a droid of his design could allow it. Not really moral regret but more so a professional interruption for a plan that was already in motion. Also he did say something about testing the capabilities of his droids didn't he?
I stared at him while the sealed office hummed. "Then someone else ran a broader version of the same idea, or a better one."
"Probability high," Grok said. "Observed outcome exceeds our planned target set. Includes opposition figures not present in your instructions. Includes public theatricality incompatible with our concealment priority plus the galactic media was notified about the event too quickly even with the moff putting in place countermeasures to stop the spread of information. Someone deliberately sent off the relevant information and may have even stirred the narrative."
"Who and for what purpose?"
"Insufficient data. Candidates include rival sector houses, internal traitors to Darnis seeking to force central intervention, residual coalition actors with independent agendas, or a deeper office already operating against both of you. Method discipline suggests experience."
The vanished coalition rat rose first in my mind, the Baelish-type smile that had warned no one and survived everyone.
But the more probable are certain core interests, it was already shown that some in the core like Paelleon and who ever sent in the deathtroopers they have certain interests in the region so it would not surprise me if they want to stir the pot a little bit more.
Any of them could have looked at Darnis's banquet and seen an opportunity to finish multiple problems at once
I felt no real triumph.
Ok, that's a lie maybe there is a little of triumph swelling within in me but that is because the fat fuck is done for now.
"Continue monitoring," I said. "Do not expose your unfinished network by scrambling for credit or contact, in fact pull back the network and stay low. Do not openly search If anyone left a signature, and map who benefits fastest from all this mess."
"Understood."
I then returned to the balcony and everyone was glued to the holoscreen.
On one screen, Mas Amedda's declaration was already being repeated with official captions. With people speculating what will happen now.
At the bottom of the screen I read what a line that as soon as it moved onthe screen it disappeared replaced by different one
DARNIS JERJERROD - TRAITOR - APPREHEND BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY
****
Apparently Grand Admiral wanted me to assemble my inner circle and all the military liasons for some reason so that is what I did in a rather sizable conference room, after some minutes Thrawn's channel opened.
His image held the room immediately. Red eyes and immaculate white uniform and the calm of a man issuing orders that move tens of thousands as if he is asking for someone to pass him some water, more than one person shifted uneasily under his red gaze.
"Governor Voss," he said. "Moff Darnis Jerjerrod has been declared traitor. I am moving to suppress residual loyalist elements and effect his apprehension. You will join with your available forces under my command."
There were a dozen clever answers I could have thought of and multitude of excuses but I used none of them.
"I and my people are loyal subjects of the Empire," I said clearly enough for the room and the holo to catch my every word "We will fall under your authority and follow your lead."
A slight pause. Approval, or simply acceptance of the correct response. "Prepare expeditionary strength, do not strip your system past defensive viability. Report force composition till 5 in the afternoon standard Havenridge time. Of course, if your forces perform admirably that will be counted towards your contribution and will be put into consideration for when it is time to reward you, keep being a loyal governor and you shall be given riches beyond comprehension."
"Yes, Grand Admiral. Glory to the Empire"
"Glory to the Empire Governor."
The channel died.
For half a second the room remained frozen.
Karlach was first. "Finally. We will get to finish that son of a bitch for good."
Orlen's mouth tightened into something like hunger. "If there are any ships left lying around Vordax they sure as hell will break once the whole navy arrives. We will be more than likely treated as witnesses for the operation."
Jaster gave a short, sharp laugh and rolled one shoulder as if warming an old muscle. "A hunt is cleaner than a siege. My warriors will want in on it"
That was the opening the room needed. What had been a command requirement became, in the mouths of the military-minded, an opportunity with future medals that had their names on them and further rewards.
I called the closed planning group immediately and watched it swell past the original list: Harlan, Torv, Karlach, Thorn, Reza, Orlen, Jaster. Then there were the clone captains from the Acclamators, Mandalorian clan war-leaders who had been in Havenridge for resupply. A militia leaders along with native war chiefs and many others.
Lira came because someone had to keep the inventory up while Mira followed with a record slate. Elara entered last and stayed near the wall with the civilians and quasi-civilians who were not as 'pumped up' as the war hawks.
I let the first wave of enthusiasm spend itself, then cut through it.
"Before anyone starts counting banners or their medals we need to understand the board. Thrawn can crush what remains of Darnis without us. We are not the decisive hammer, we are not even a distraction pebble for that matter. We are proof of loyalty, local knowledge, and political completion and witnesses to the operation. That still has value high value but it's certinally no reason to empty out Elyria of its defences"
Karlach frowned, but held his tongue.
Reza nodded once. "Most of the ships need yard time anyway."
I already seen some of their faces to fall, honestly since when has Elyria harboured so many war hawks? This reminds me I need to release the Aurealis Wing mercenaries soon and pay their compensaition, they are getting antsy but cant really leave now that Thrawn is here and that some of their ships are still in repair.
Then I gave them something to keep them happy, because their war fervour needed direction. "Pellaeon contacted me earlier. He expects a generous reward for this system's conduct once the disorder ends due to our loyalty and battle competence and merits, he also warned that irregularities may slow any formal rise. That means what we do now will be read as either confirmation of usefulness or confirmation of appetite."
That did it.
The overzealous side of the room lit up like a weapons board.
One of the native clans men, a highly decorated and scarred one at that spoke with a flat yet hungry tone. "Then we take the biggest ships, the biggest guns enough to be visible in the after-action, maybe even to have enough cargo hold to haul our spoils home in one trip."
A Mandalorian war-leader, looks like clan Torvyn slammed a fist lightly against his own breastplate. "If rewards are being weighed, let them weigh our dead enemies that fall to our blades."
Sira our dutiful militia commander was practically vibrating "My regiments held the bulk of the armoured assaults my boys and girls are more than happy to return the favour on Vordax." She gave a wolfish green and honestly woman calm the fuck down we are not going to be razing the city but I am glad for her enthusiasm
Orlen leaned forward more sombre and professional. "Ask for formal retention of the heavier prize hulls, at least some of them along with expanded patrol rights with that you could further ask the Navy Central Command for additional forces to patrol the area granting you more firepower. Who knows maybe you will have a few more governors under you when this is all over?"
Jaster grinned at that. "More planets means more potential skirmishes with pirates and a potential sources of foundlings for the clans."
Hawk (CT-8812) who usually spoke in careful and flat tones, said, "If the Moff's fall opens seized depots, we should be near the front of any sanctioned recovery, this would help us to fund the expansion of our crews and to buy temporary navy droids to crew any ships we acquire."
Around the table the wish list grew longer and honestly more out of pocket, seriously who the fuck suggested we take over the entire sector? The moment I even suggest it I will be seen as arrogant and overreaching and be laughed out of the room, worse the rewards might be shortened some others asked for some customs relief and tax reductions while others just wanted to pillage and loot the entire capital city to their hearts content.
I personally want those administrative droids.
Though not everyone was in a merry mood, some like Lira thought that we are trading more blood for more ships we could eventually buy and glory.
Elara had not moved from the wall. When she spoke, the native commanders nearest her at least had the grace to look less ecstatic. "Thorn-Root can send a disciplined contingent but we will not send a migration of fighters to Vordax so officers can come home louder and more arrogant than they left with pillaged gold on their necks and more blood on their hands The plains still have to collect, this would be a glory raid, many would not buy a pointless expedition even if its a safe one like that, even worse if battle does happen."
Atii, caught between the two currents, glanced at me and then at the animated cluster around Jaster and Karlach. "They're going to star wishing for Coruscant in a minute if you let them continue dreaming."
I sigh with a wry smile "Yeah, I recon they would."
I took the centre of the table back before the expedition turned into a crusade.
"The detachment will be sizable but not truly of fighting strength, and it will be capped. Reza has veto on any ship critical to home defence. Clan and militia contingents are volunteer-selective under their own commanders, no mass levies or mobilisation while Mandalorian units under Jaster's and other clans will select who wants to go, Orlen will come with us and his already selected forces to Vordax, under Reza's operational command structure. We will ask for sensible rewards only after they ask what we want, if we ask beforehand it will show us being interested only if there is something for, we want to show them that we are loyal subjects not scavengers."
That cooled the room by a degree, not more.
Karlach still looked hungry somewhat hungry even the posture that Thorne has at the entrence of the room showcased his eagerness.
The clones were already writing deployment sequences on their wrist-slates while Jaster had the bright-eyed look of a man who found his old hobby exciting again. I am starting to feel Jaster was a bit of a rogue back in the day who loved doing heist and planetary sieges for money, I think.
"Darnis made this sector bleed for his pride, he killed our friends and our families. He saw us as weak but we shattered him repeatedly and now we will help end him, under command of renowed Grand Admiral Thrawn. Then we shall come home as victors with rewards in our pocket and medals on our chest all in order to make Elyria stronger, wealthier and safer!"
I dont know who started it but it started as a singular voice before cascading to a tidal wave of support.
"PEACE THROUGH POWER"
"PEACE THROUGH POWER"
"PEACE THROUGH POWER"
Most of the people dispersed, while I along with some others like Reza and Orlen stayed long enough to sign the first expeditionary authorizations, then looked once toward the side of the room where Elara had stood.
She was right to be unhappy, afterall Elyrians were not really war like, yes they loved battles and duels but not wars and now with all of this happening they are starting to change, almost like war and battle was in their blood.
**Atii POV**
I stayed after most of them left because I wanted to see who Kael became when the room only had those closest to him.
The room, emptied in layers.
Karlach went out already assigning noncommissioned officers by memory while the clones moved as one efficient organism toward the corridor, wrist-slates bright. My father meanwhile clapped one of the Mandalorian war-leaders on the shoulder hard enough to make the man's armour ring and said something about proper work at last.
Orlen followed Reza with the taut posture of a man who had been given a useful leash and intended to run exactly as far as it stretched, but overall he looked quite happy and... eager.
Lira and Mira left together in low, unhappy conversation while Harlan had too many authorizations in his hands and not enough faces for the concern under them.
Kael remained at the centre table, signing the first expeditionary sheets with neat, unhurried strokes. He looked calm.
He always looked calm when he was focused on something or when dealing with high emotions like anger, happiness or sadness which is a rather new development.
That was part of what had changed.
The boy I'd dragged into morning training months ago that had flinched with his whole body when cornered. This version did not even flinch when we were sparring with dulled blades and had it fly past his eye. He no longer flinches instead he finds himself in the moment, makes sure his posture is correct while his wording and timing are impecable.
Useful and necessary as governor maybe. Still different.
I hated that I could track the difference so precisely.
Elara stopped beside me instead of leaving. She didn't ask whether I was all right she just followed my line of sight to Kael and exhaled through her nose.
"You see it too," I said.
"I see a boy who is becoming a man, a man of Imperial politics." Elara answered. "And growing too quickly."
Kael did not look up, just wrote another signature and another authorization.
A quiet word to Torv about escort rotations for the Vordax detachment. Every motion was competent. Every motion slightly farther from the person who used to eat late in the palace kitchen with dust on his boots and joke, badly, about caf that tasted like engine solvent.
Scrutiny had done some of it, ambition had done the rest. Or maybe those were the same thing I dont know. Perhaps neither and it was him just growing and adapting to whatever the life in the empire was throwing at him.
"He didn't even hesitate on Thrawn's channel," I said.
"That is how one survives a Grand Admiral's attention," Elara said.
"I know how survival works." I crossed my arms and huffed. "I also know what it looks like when a fight stops being about the people behind you and starts being about what else can be taken once the enemy is down."
Her eyes moved, briefly, to the far side of the room.
Father was still there, of course, he was with with two clan warriors and a militia officer, animated in a way that made him look younger than the gray at his temples would suggest. Hands were sketching something in the air while his voice was brightest she has heard in a while, full with the promise of a clean campaign against a declared traitor and glory and rewards it would help strengthen their clans.
He looked alive in the specific way warriors got when the universe finally offered them a target worth taking.
Elara's mouth softened and then set again. She knew exactly what I was seeing because she was seeing it too, only from closer to the bone. When she looked at Father like that, all the practical council woman fell away for a second and left someone watching a man she cared about walk eagerly toward fire.
She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed once, firm and brief.
I let the contact steady me, then nodded toward Kael. "If he keeps trading pieces of himself for a better tomorrow for Elyria there won't be much of him standing soon enough."
"Then stay near enough to him and steady him, be the light in the lighthouse for his lost ship" Elara gave me a look and a sly smirk while saying it.
I felt my self blush a bit and avert my gaze.
Stupid red woman.
At that moment Kael finally lifted his head and found us at the edge of the room. For an instant the public governor's face slipped and something older showed through: fatigue, calculation, a small smile on his face as he looked at us.
Looked at me.
He almost looked like he might come over. Then Torv handed him another slate, and the moment closed.
I watched him sign the next line and sighed.
Stupid Elara.
Stupid Torv.
Stupid... Kael.