I raise a glass in toast to the Major General: “To Cain! May his retirement be everlasting, his checks never bounce and his liquor be free flowing!”

  “Hear hear!” The various officers bark.

  The establishment was filled with various officers from the Ash Worlds and Cain’s 300th Corps. It seemed the politics of his job, alongside the increased scrutiny of the ISB, had become a bit too much for the brave and gallant General, so he had decided to retire while the getting was good. I couldn’t even really blame him. Officially the war was over, the galaxy at peace and the Volunteer Forces were going to be downsized in the relative future. He had waited long enough to make it clear he wasn’t resigning in protest while also resigning in good standing with his superiors and underlings, making it clear that his resignation had nothing to do with any failure on anyone’s part. He had played his cards well, incredibly well in fact.

  Cain had really made the annoyingly practical choice that he was likely better off as a military adviser to his Senator from Alsakan than continuing to serve as a reservist General waiting for the Empire to no longer require his services. It would be difficult to replace a man as charismatic and stern in the face of danger as him.

  “Thank you, thank you.” Cain says, his cheeks red from the booze, “I just wanna say, you are all lovely people and I … I couldn’t’ve asked for better soldiers to have under my command. So I raise this glass to you! To you all! Long may we live!”

  “Long may we live!” The crowded room echoes, glasses once more raised into the air.

  I take another swig from mine as I look around the room. When would I ever see so many men this happy again? How many of these men would I even see again? How many of them would side with me? How many would I need to kill?

  I shake my head briefly and take another swig, eyeing the bar, a platter of foods about to be placed upon it. Best not think of such things. The night was still young after all and I had a sandwich with my name on it.

  Luis takes center stage during the briefing on the new scout sections, my semi-exile the perfect excuse to keep any changes to doctrine for myself. Either way the conference room over Toong’l was filled with various officers’ persons or holograms. Commodore Jim was my primary target today, him and his protege Sato would be very useful and Jim had yet to confirm anything despite his apparent interest.

  “-So to reiterate, six patrol craft weren’t enough to ensure proper coverage of the surrounding area, be it within medium comms range or long range. The proper number appears to be ten, though we may need more in larger operations. We also found the IPV-1 to be the most adequate due to its smaller manpower requirement and its decent enough sensor package. Though it does lack some more robust armor and firepower, these scout ships are primarily mean to avoid combat unless placed in a picketing position during larger engagements.” Luis explains.

  “So did you stuff another eight ARC-170s into the new MC40a cruisers or did you decide on another support ship?” Sykes asks from his current headquarters at Pakuuni.

  “We decided it would be more practical to add a smaller ship to support the MC40a in case of a larger threat.”

  “And?” Bvinsk asks, probably wondering about how he was supposed to resupply another ship.

  “We believe the Marauder corvette does good work.” Luis says.

  “Those things are pretty cheap. Sublight speed isn’t exactly great either.” Commodore Jim mutters to himself.

  “Do they even have enough space for fighters?” Commodore Abelard asks.

  Luis frowns: “They can rather easily hold a full squadron of Starchasers and other similarly sized fighters, but they can only manage six ARC-170s and two Starchasers. So we have to fit another two into the hangar bay of the light cruisers.”

  “And I suppose upgrading or modifying the MC40a won’t work?” Jim asks.

  “Theoretically possible, but the additional firepower was seen as beneficial. Especially if one of the scouts is engaged and requires rapid response. After all, something that would be able to engage such a nimble picket would likely balk at the pocket frigate and two additional fighters.” Luis replies.

  “And it wouldn’t compromise the entire formation.” Jim adds appreciatively.

  “Exactly. Now mind you, it should work well as an early warning system and decently well as a jamming support, but this formation is primarily to scout out a system with a dedicated and trained force instead of the hodgepodge of fighters, corvettes and shuttles we used previously.”

  “Well I’m sold.” Sykes says, “Admiral Dericote, I would request at least one such formation for my battlegroup, preferably two.”

  “It may take a while for the Marauders to arrive, but I can see about getting you the MC40a cruisers and the IPV-1 pickets within a few weeks.” I reply easily.

  “Looks good.” Abelard agrees, “I assume this will be sent off to Coruscant as soon as the … political situation has cooled.”

  “That is the current plan.” Luis agrees.

  “Then we must hope that our comrades in arms can benefit from this soon.” Abelard says.

  “That we must.” I agree.

  I look over the shipyards of Mon Cala once more as I sip my caf and think. This faux peace felt … weird to me. I knew the pieces moving in the background, moving and preparing for war, but on the surface, my corner of the galaxy was at peace.

  It should be a crime to be doing what I was planning, what my comrades in the Sith Cordon Fleet were planning, what the few allies I still had on Courscant were planning, what Solomahal had planned. I close my eyes for a moment. If there was any other way out, I would be throwing myself at it with full force.

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  But Vader and Palpatine were too powerful. They had the Senate in an iron grip and their boots pressed on the necks of far too many an innocent worlds’ neck. I inhale slowly and open my eyes again to see the Acclamators enter system with the additional Stormtroopers to join with Hope and Endurance Companies as well as be distributed throughout the command as attached elites.

  They would make things more difficult, but not impossible. Many would die within my command to these menaces’ blasters, many more would die from the war to come. I exhale slowly. Better to die free than to live a slave.

  I march along the line of Stormtroopers, their white and shining armor an … interesting contrast to the busy hangar bay of my Little Revenge. Their officers were standing far more proudly than I would like whenever Chain would inspect their men more closely. The now Commander was being very careful in ensuring nothing was amiss. His promotion, as well as those of his trusted subordinates well deserved even if it didn’t involve my interest in solidifying my control of the Stormtrooper Corps within my command.

  I remain quiet and solemn as I let Chain’s frown deepen from under his helmet. I could tell he wasn’t quite happy. On the one hand, it was obvious he was trying to analyze the best was to divide the men among our various ships to defeat them in detail. On the other hand he clearly was displeased by what he saw. These men had maybe half a year of training unless they were one of the officers present who had been sourced from various Volunteer regiments.

  I wasn’t impressed yet either. Most were as stiff as a corpse and I knew for a fact the only ones who had seen combat were the officers. Sure, training was all good, but Maker knows what will happen when you enter your first life or death situation. My first time involved a rabid mudpuppy and running for my life. Sure, training and more blood had turned that into murdering the enemy before they could gut me, but that wasn’t something I was going to bet on these TKs doing.

  Chain finishes his inspection and salutes me: “Men present and in good order.”

  “Very good.” I reply, “Hand out their assignments. Remind them they may find themselves within smaller ships where we will only need a squad or less to … supplement our veteran arms-men.”

  “I’ll be sure to do so.” Chain agrees.

  “Wonderful. You may return to your duties and I shall return to mine.”

  I read the report again. Something about this was … fishy. I suppress a smirk at the thought, now was not the time. How did Kamino, a world whose inhabitants had fought and beaten back the very climate of their world, lost its primary source of influence and economic strength to a storm? Kamino had, in a single stroke, gone form the premier world of cloning and a major provider of soldiers for the Imperial Army’s reformed Stormtrooper Corps to a backwater specializing in exotic weapons and a doomed population.

  I consider the report a while longer. This had Tarkin’s camp written all over it and if the remnants of the HONO Clique weren’t so politically crippled we would have demanded an inquiry by now. I sigh, nothing that could be done about it now. Either the Cloners had attempted to go rogue and died for it, or the Empire was sick of their monopoly on the Fett Clones and decided they were better off without, returning the quality cloning monopoly to Arkanis.

  Perhaps it was both, perhaps it was neither. Difficult to tell in these times were I was out of the loop. Also didn’t help that the few friends I still had in the upper ranks outside of my command were rather busy attempting to defeat the Separatist holdouts in the North or stuck on Coruscant.

  It was becoming increasingly clear the restrictions being placed around me. Loosing my intelligence network, becoming something akin to a pariah to the Imperial court, the only thing stopping the Sector Governors from undermining me being the robust administration and Bvinsk’s imperious presence. Not to mention the loss of too many friends and allies.

  I sigh, three years, prepare for two. If I could continue our preparations for two years, I could spring Plan Dorn and try to fix this mess we were in. I may not succeed, nine hells I would probably fail, but I had to try. If not for myself or my ideals, if not for the honor of the Navy and my beliefs in the ideals of the Republic, then for my family. To keep them and their descendants away from the heel of Imperial tyranny.

  Colonel Green’s shuttle lands with the thud of an inexperienced pilot, the ramp lowering promptly to deposit the Intelligence Attache of the Greater Calamari Command into my ship’s hangar. The man descends all the way to the bottom before raising an eyebrow in lieu of formally requesting entrance. I roll my eyes before gesturing him down, Green taking the final step before exchanging a quick salute with me.

  “To my office?” I ask.

  “Probably best, sir.” Green replies before falling in step with me.

  “My old network or yours?” I ask as the elevator doors close on us.

  “Neither. It’s from the old man’s. One of his more … difficult contacts has requested a meeting.”

  “Difficult how?” I ask as the elevator spits us out onto my level.

  “How else? It’s fucking Mandos.” Green answers.

  I sigh exasperatedly in agreement as we continue to my office: “How bad?”

  “Whole sector is in revolt now. Regent Kryze no longer appreciates the Imperial garrisons on her worlds and demanded they leave. When Crimson Dagger and Blazing Claw both rejected her demands she rebelled.”

  “How bad is it?” I repeat myself.

  “Well neither command can agree who actually is in charge of the Mandalore Sector, their borders intertwine there like the Greater Tion does with the Greater Halla around the Triellius, so neither Moff Tannier nor Moff Renau are coordinating their efforts. The Empire has already lost four battleships, six cruisers, twelve frigates and thirty corvettes, about a third of that has been seized by the Mandos and been turned against us. They’ve also activated their long dormant shipyards again, so there is a distinct possibility we’ll see ships we haven’t seen since the Mandalorian Schism some seven hundred years ago, likely updated to modern standards too.”

  “That is bad, very bad.” I say as we continue down the hallway, passing a detachment of Stormtroopers as we do.

  “That’s not even the worst of it. Multiple worlds have declared for Kryze, most prominently Ordo, Concord Dawn and Krownest. Over half the Sector is in some stage of open revolt and the various periphery worlds that are culturally Mando but not technically part of the Sector have either gone neutral or have started having insurrectionist issues again.” Green says as we enter my office.

  The doors close behind us as I continue to my desk and take my seat: “So where does Solomahal’s contact come into this?”

  “A former Minister of the New Mandalorians who defected after the Deathwatch takeover. They rejoined the government when Kryze took over. The Minister has officially offered to talk to Imperial dissidents within the military on his leader’s behalf.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Wren I think. He’s related to the rulers of Krownest if I understand their naming conventions right. Though I will freely admit, my Mando is barely good enough to say hello, order a caf and ask them not to shoot me.”

  R4 already has a datapad ready before I can even ask for one. I quickly scan over it before turning to look at Green with a raised eyebrow: “A cultural minister? That doesn’t seem very … Mando.”

  “Even they have culture, sir.” Green chastises.

  “Fair enough.” I reply, “Sure, see if we can arrange something covert with him. Maybe do the preliminary talks yourself. We’ll see how the revolt goes. Maybe if they last long enough I’ll talk with Admiral Benoni of the Sith Cordon about losing a couple ships to help them. He’ll probably refuse, but then we can leverage that in the future. Have his unwillingness to support our potential allies be used against him.”

  “I don’t like it, but I can see the logic behind that, sir.” Green replies.

  “I don’t like it either, but we need new allies and we need to ensure our current allies fall in line when the time comes. Last thing we need is for the factionalism of the Republic and Separatist Navies to rear their ugly heads again.” I stress.

  “Agreed, sir.” Green says absentmindedly.

  “Anything else of note?”

  “Gerrera attempted a bombing on Eriadu. He wanted to nix some of the researchers and higher ups during a conference. However the Coup foiled the conference before it started and all Gerrera did was blow up an empty compound.” Green reports.

  “And Exarch Singh?” I ask.

  “Last sighted meeting with a few ex-Separatist Senators within the Tion Cluster. He’s currently believed to have fled to Argai. He’s attempting to slow the negotiations between the Free Dac and Mon Cala governments.”

  “That’s … something. Any successes in our agents meeting with him?”

  “One contact made, but I am hesitant in risking an in within the remnant Free Dac administration.”

  I consider that for a moment, then speak: “I’ll defer to your expertise.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Though speaking of Singh, any trail on those Commandos that sprang him?”

  Green frowns: “They appear to be based from somewhere along the Celanon Spur. Though I haven’t been able to narrow it down due to its low priority.”

  “Fair enough. Keep me posted on any updates. You’re headed back to Toong’l next?”

  “Yes, in all honesty I should have let one of my subordinates deal with the mess at Pakuuni, but I wanted to test the waters with some of the smuggler cartels myself and ensure it was my men in charge of honeypotting the droid foundries there.” He says sheepishly.

  I chuckle at that: “I understand that too well. If you’re not leaving today, I would ask you to join me for one of my officers’ dinners this evening.”

  “Any of questionable loyalty present?” He inquires.

  “Only those tried and true.” I reply.

  “Then I would be delighted.”

  “Wonderful, we start at twenty hundred hours.”

  “I’ll make note of it.”

  “Very good, dismissed.” I order. The intelligence officer makes a quick salute before marching out, the door closing behind him promptly.

  A scoutship of mine had reported a sighting of three Imperial class Star Destroyers making for Dac by way of the Tion Cluster not under my supervision. How very sneaky of them. I frown as I read the report from the Lieutenant in command of the picket and its two escorts. They had caught them early and not reacted to the patrol’s presence. Though the patrol had managed to get a ping off of their transponders before running silent to avoid detection.

  The Sovereign, Majesty and Crown. The personal flagship of Tarkin and her two sister ships made in the yards of Kuat herself. My frown deepens. Did Tarkin want to impose on the trade negotiations between Mon Cala’s polity and the Empire? Was he sent to relieve me?

  I shake my head at the last thought. That was unlikely. The ISB had been too ineffective and their last report had only reported on what I was willing to offer, those being my sympathy to Mon Cala, possible corruption and my hard work.

  So Tarkin probably wanted to ensure a harsher deal than what I would be willing to impose. Karking typical. I inhale deeply and slowly exhale. I would ensure things run smoothly. We weren’t ready yet.