<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ccff">CHAPTER 1</span></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ccff">__________________________________________</span>​</div><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbImageWrapper js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/imperial_meeting-600px-jpg.5642/" title="Imperial_meeting-600px.jpg">
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</div></div><br/><b>IMPERIAL ORBITAL COMMAND PLATFORM <i>APEX 5</i><br/>
BALBRINGI SECTOR</b><br/><br/>"Do you understand the orders you've been given, Admiral?"<br/><br/>He blinked at first. Dark eyes hardened, then narrowed, as they surveyed the holo-map in greater detail. Pale planetary icons hung in spangled array, strategic targets cast in a rendered, carmine tone. The goal pulsed in the faintest blue, as did the myriad hyperlane vectors radiating from the sector that created a web of near infinite flexibility and reach. It was so simple, so ingenious.<br/><br/>"Yes, sir," the newly-minted Admiral Steen spoke, "I understand my orders."<br/><br/>The instructions that Admiral Steen had received were far simpler than the circumstances that affected them.<i>Occupy the Tannis Sector and ensure no communications or vessels leave the system. Maintain secrecy and covert supremacy at all costs</i>. Some Imperial officers used Sector Incursions as opportunities to live the vicarious power through the immense, dreaded presence of an Imperial navel formation appearing from hyperspace — a star mariner's darkest nightmare. The manifestation of a sudden, imposing military presence sent expected shockwaves through systems and inhabitants — an effective tool to enervate those the Empire saw fit to dominate; a tool that was crude and criminally overused, in Steen's opinion. Power was an elusive, ephemeral animal, fueling the fallacy of pride in many an Imperial officer — a vice not discouraged in naval academies or routine conduct.<i>Not discouraged enough</i>, Steen often reflected.<br/><br/>When (formerly) Rear Admiral Arrol Steen voiced such opinions openly, he found mixed reactions from quiet consent to outright hostility. In time, Steen learned to become more selective in the officers with whom he confided: those of superior rank and wise disposition. Steen found that the most ineffective officers attained their rank by artificial zeal and political connivance. "Loyalty to the Empire," was their constant call, but Steen found that such ardence eroded all too quickly when tough choices needed to be made; their "loyalty" amounted to little more than craven thirsts for personal gain, and they wielded blame in attempts to deflect accountability for their gross incompetence. Expending the lives of valuable crewmen came as easily as breathing to such wretched vermin, and Steen despised such flagrant ignorance.<br/><br/>The Empire tended to take what it wanted, purporting a fervent policy of eminent domain upon every inch of planets, outer space, upon every soul within the Galaxy. Such was the relentless spirit of the Emperor, whose influence and persona could be remarkably felt in the conduct of the Imperial establishment. Most, in Steen's opinion, mistook the Emperor's will to dominate as an excuse for reckless and heedless violence. As a result, reasonable caution and prudence were labeled as cowardice or worse: disloyalty. Steen had weathered such idiocy in his illustrious career, and the humble man felt his chest swell with a seldom felt pride at being the one chosen for this vital mission. Indeed, Admiral Steen felt a subtle vindication at the Imperial establishment choosing judicious discretion over bombast; the latter a hollow sentiment to storm the tide against a fracturing Empire.<br/><br/>Though consciously removed from the quagmire of collective opinion, Steen was no fool when it came to intra-Imperial politics. The Imperial Council held sway over all facets of Imperial life and the character which governed how that life was implemented. Though the Emperor held onto power with an iron grip, the casual conversations and chatter among naval officers told of deep fissures within the Imperial military apparatus. Externally, much effort had been exerted to portray the Empire as a solid, impregnable force of order; the truth, however, painted a different picture as various Vice and Grand Admirals in far-flung systems already vied to carve out fiefdoms of territory, their troops pledging fealty to them as the true, sanctioned heirs of Imperial succession. The thought unnerved the Admiral, who genuinely worried at the prospect of a Galaxy populated with several warlords, each convinced they deserved the right to rule as regents in a post-Imperial apocalypse.<br/><br/>Admiral Steen remained largely removed and uninterested from the world of such politics and the Imperial Council. He had preferred taking dangerous assignments over advertising his credentials and achievements. Frankly, Admiral Stern would rather execute a handful of pirates that attempt to promote himself at some ingratiating, Imperial naval conference. The task of laying in wait to rescue the Empire could be seen in myriad ways — ostensibly apolitical, the question would need to be asked what constituted "the Empire." Which Empire would he be fighting to preserve? The nature of such discursive inquiry reeked of senatorial maneuvering, and Steen wondered if his disinterest (and apparent lack of ambition) factored into him being chosen to command this keystone operation.<br/><br/>"A question, then a few requests," Steen said. "First, what contact protocols shall the Task Force adhere to when dealing with locals?"<br/><br/>The white-uniformed Vice Admiral replied without question. "Execute the mandate of your orders with extreme prejudice," Vice Admiral Bensun replied. "Should one ship or communication leave the system, the entire operation will be put into jeopardy." The naval officer's great mustache ruffled  as he enunciating the last word, his gaze narrowing. "You have requests? Which are?"<br/><br/>"That Captain Arin Voss be promoted to Rear Admiral and be made my executive officer aboard<i>Vengence</i>."<br/><br/>Admiral Bensun puffed a grim chuckle. "Already have your roster figured out, don't you?" The portly man caught a glimpse of the Grand Moff, his chiseled, aquiline features gazing out into the bleak, black expanse of the Sector. The Admiral cleared his throat and spoke. "I'm unfamiliar with the officer of whom you speak. But, you're a rear admiral now, Steen. You can arrange your assets however you wish."<br/><br/>"Understood, sir," Steen replied. "But, Captain Voss is not yet a direct asset. She commands the Star Destroyer<i>Governess</i>in the 3rd Fleet patrolling the Arkanis Sector."<br/><br/>"You know extra-fleet reassignments are is frowned upon." The Vice Admiral's words could have been a reminder of dictum, if a wry smile didn't lift edges of his rotund visage in a forgiving smirk. "It looks like sanctioned pillaging."<br/><br/>"I'm aware of the precedent to not upset Imperial Naval status, sir. However, the task you've asked of me, of Blackspear Squadron, is extraordinary ... which is why I'm also requesting that the ISS<i>Praxis </i>and her commander, Captain Umbra, be added to my roster."<br/><br/>"<i>Praxis</i>?" the Grand Moff chimed in inquiry. All went silent as the man responsible for overseeing all of the Tingle galactic sectors made his presence known. "My son-in-law worked that vessel years ago. He insisted it was unremarkable ... what is your interest in it, may I ask?" A hawk-like glare emitted from the Moff's intense, beady eyes. Their bore their question straight into Steen's soul, though the Grand Moff's inquiry came in pure curiosity.<br/><br/>Rear Admiral Steen stood taller when the Grand Moff addressed him, listened to his words and nodded before answering. "Years earlier, I tasked my staff with keeping a log of all ship repair and upgrades. The information is available on the Imperial database, though no one seems to use the resource. With it, we keep watch for vessels with unique properties and characteristics, sir." Steen watched the Grand Moff studying him, and his penetrating gaze sent a shiver up the man's spine. "The<i>Praxis </i>was not utilized to its full capacity when your son-in-law served as crewman. The ship displayed exemplary service, however, when placed in the hands of a more dynamic commander, such as Captain Umbra. To answer your question, sir, the<i>Praxis </i>offers an unusual combination of heavy firepower and maneuverability. An armored cruiser, it can clash with ships of higher class-size and combat them with compatible armaments. Plus, the newer matrix drive installed last year gives it an asymmetrical displacement, resulting in a thrust ratio that would rival a corvette."<br/><br/>The Grand Moff stood immobile, studying the man. "And, Captain Umbra?"<br/><br/>"As I mentioned, dynamic. He's a well-known and decorated officer with an aggressive streak," Steen answered.<br/><br/>"Brash and reckless is more like it," the Vice Admiral quipped. "He's more of a liability, don't you think? Besides, how do you plan on tearing him away from vessel command to be on your staff?"<br/><br/>Steen held his hands behind his back. He turned slowly to face the Vice Admiral with a demeanor that came calm and sage. "Forgive me, Vice Admiral, but Captain Umbra will not be on my staff ... and, I'm fully aware of his zeal. Every man has a weakness, and his is simple: he's less cunning than cavalier. He'll gladly relieve command of the<i>Praxis </i>when I ask him to helm the Star Destroyer<i>Devastator</i>." A wry smile inched up one side of Steen's smile. "I want a bold officer in charge of my heavy attack line."<br/><br/>A tense silence permeated the proceedings before the Grand Moff spoke.<br/><br/>"Your requests are granted, Admiral, Steen" he said. Detached, the Grand Moff had been rubbing his lower lip in absent-minded distraction as he listened to Steen's thorough and well-conceived explanations. He slowly stood straight once again. "As will all requests after this meeting. Make no mistake, however — the trust we invest in your abilities cannot be squandered. The fate of the Empire may hinge on the success of your mission. When called upon, you must be ready to deploy as directed. Do you understand?"<br/><br/>"Yes, sir," Admiral Steen answered crisply, at attention.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ccff">__________________________________________</span>​</div><br/>Captain Arin Voss stared out the port window at the wide array of stars, her hazel eyes steeled to the fate that awaited her. The<i>Allegiance</i>-class Star Destroyer — her apparent destination — grew ever larger into looming view. The knot in her stomach also grew, a sign of weakness that she desperately wanted to conceal. The day prior, she received the unusual order to immediately depart the Vvvv and report to an undisclosed location. Captain Voss delegated command to her Lieutenant and boarded her personal shuttle. Patience served her well as the location was revealed to be a top secret rallying point, though the purpose of her absconding remain cloaked in mystery. If she were honest, fear permeated her erstwhile optimistic nature — many an officer met their end in similar fashion to account for past failings. Though, Captain Voss could not recall any recent blunder or failure in service. She considered herself a devoted officer and Imperial citizen, and she prayed whomever waited for her at the end of the journey felt the same.<br/><br/>The<i>Lambda</i>-class shuttle<i>Hallius</i>whisked the Captain and her stormtrooper escort deftly through the assembled naval Task Force that seemed to orbit the massive battle cruiser like metallic moons about an utterly dominating singularity. Star Destroyers, Cruisers, Corvettes: the composition may have seemed random to a civilian, but to a seasoned professional the choice of vessels was nothing less than exquisite. Every ship offered a balance of positives and negatives, and the sheer potential of firepower and flexibility left the female officer breathless. Whomever commanded the flotilla of star craft, the man or woman within the<i>Allegiance-class</i>Star Destroyer, reigned as undisputed regent.<br/><br/>A warbled call echoed about the cabin as the communication officer opened a comm line. "This is the shuttle<i>Hallius</i>to Battle Cruiser<i>zzzzz ... </i>request permission to land."<br/><br/>"<i>Permission to land will be given upon receipt of an authorized clearance code</i>," the cold voice stated, tersely. Tie Fighters screamed about the shuttle; many of the Tie Fighters, no doubt, filed in formation behind the shuttle's approach.<br/><br/>"Understood. Sending clearance code now." A new set of pleasant noises chirped as the communications officer sent the transmission. Captain Voss wondered if the shuttle crew shared her apprehension, the tension undoubtedly collective, as the massive warship filled the breadth of the shuttle's viewport. She heard the dull clank of the stormtrooper's armor as they adjusted their sitting position and grip upon their blaster rifles.<br/><br/>"<i>Shuttle Hallius</i>...<i>your clearance code is confirmed. Proceed along vector 5-2-8 to port docking bay 10</i>."<br/><br/>"Copy that,<i>Vengeance </i>," the comm officer said. "Proceeding along vector 5-2-8 to port docking bay 10."<br/><br/>The lean shuttle accelerated toward a distinct point of light along left side of the battle cruiser, and Captain Voss found the name of the battle cruiser tugging at her memory. Where had she heard of zzzzz before? Not knowing profoundly bothered the Captain, who prided herself on a mind as sharp as forged nano-steel. She had forgotten more ship names than most officers knew, but the name<i>Vengeance </i>held a poignant resonance she could not place — one she felt she should recall given the fluttering in her core from the dredged up emotions.<br/><br/>Captain Voss' heart beat harder as the shuttle entered the invisible ray-shield that enabled the artificial atmosphere of the docking bay. The shuttle landed and the aft boarding ramp lowered amidst reams of billowing, white steam. The pilot turned in his seat. "We've arrived, Captain. We shall remain here until you return." The look in the pilot's eyes touched the female officer, for it conveyed his wish for her to return alive.<br/><br/>A cadre of black-armored stormtroopers waited at the bottom of the ramp. "<b>Captain Voss?</b>" a synthesized voice asked. She nodded curtly. "<b>Come with me, Ma'am</b>," the special operations trooper said.<br/><br/>"Where are you taking me?" she asked, her tone politely imperious.<br/><br/>"<b>The Captain has requested your presence.</b>"<br/><br/>A faint exhale of relief passed Captain Voss' lips. Though nothing with the Empire was ever assured, a meeting with a random commander meant she would likely live to see the dawn of the next solar cycle.<i>Thanks be to small miracles,</i>she privately intoned. The white-clad stormtroopers that accompanied her from the Vvvvv remained behind to guard the shuttle as Captain Voss was escorted into the heart of the battle cruiser's interior. Soon, the noise and mechanical scents of the hanger bay ebbed, fading to the sterile business of executive escort. The central corridor that ran through the vessel from aft to stern brimmed with activity as men walked and materials hovered in an immaculately ordered traffic. All obstacles parted when the black stormtroopers appeared, and the escorting guards did not slow or flag their progress in full expectation of moving unimpeded.<br/><br/>The journey abruptly turned right down a traverse corridor of finer scale, stopping at an alcove and sealed lift doors. The inside perimeter of the frame glowed dull white and the doors opened swiftly with a pneumatic hiss. One stormtroopers passed his wrist over a sensor, and the lift doors closed. Even the battle cruiser's artificial gravity could not quell the heavy ball that formed in Captain Voss' gut as the lift accelerated instantly to hundreds of kilometers per hour. The level of apprehension jumped from mild to severe when the stormtroopers halted at a single, security door. Despite the steel rectangle before her appearing residential, it's mundane nature sparked an ominous, unsettled demeanor in the seasoned Captain. One of the stormtroopers spoke into his wrist comm.<br/><br/>"Captain, sir ... Captain Voss is here to see you, as instructed."<br/><br/>"<i>Send her in,</i>" a mechanical voice replied.<br/><br/>The door shot upward with frightful power and the stormtroopers took positions to either side of the portal. Captain Voss entered bravely, both petrified at the clandestine nature of her fate, as well as impatient to strip the cloak away and get to the bottom of the mystery. A determined face faded to shock, then joy as the door snapped down behind her. "Rear Admiral Steen?!" she asked, beaming in disbelief.<br/><br/>A man, barely visible, sat perched on the edge of a desk in front of a transperisteel pane. The vast flotilla Captain Voss had observed and passed through — innumerable, grey triangles lit by the bright, distant star — sprawled as a backdrop, Admiral Steen now standing in stark silhouette. "Attention!" a low, commanding voice barked. Captain Voss snapped upright, clicking the heels of her polished, black boots. The pretty woman's face turned expressionless, her blue eyes staring straight ahead. Rigid, military discipline ruled the woman as the familiar man walked casually toward her, hands behind his back. "It would seem that you're in need of reacquainting yourself with Imperial rank markers."<br/><br/>Captain Voss let her blue eyes drop to survey the blue and red squares on the man's black-colored naval uniform; her eyes widened at the additional red square completing the Imperial octet. She thought the sight was on of the most beautiful in her life and let a white-toothed grin break past her red lips. Those azure eyes swung upward and were met by the wry smirk of her former commander.<br/><br/>"You should know an Admiral when you see one," he intoned, kindly. "At ease," he said, opening his arms slightly.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ccff">__________________________________________</span>​</div><br/>Arrol felt the pure elation from his good friend as he embraced her mildly. The gesture he gave was unprecedented — they both knew it. After a minute, he felt Arin pull back and watched her tug her olive-green naval uniform straight, a smile still on her face. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered. Her eyes studied the Admiral's badge as if in a trance, a deep exhale releasing the last of the worry she's generated due to the secrecy. She cocked a smirk of her own, subdued and gently jovial. "If you wanted to show-off, there are less nerve-wracking ways to ..."<br/><br/>"I need your help, Arin," Steen interrupted. The voice he used was soft, yet equally serious and imploring.<br/><br/>"Yes," she said, without hesitation.<br/><br/>Arrol raised his eyebrows a moment, averting them to her own cluster of insignia badges. "You should listen to what I have to say before agreeing. It could be dangerous, and you won't be commanding a vessel."<br/><br/>"It doesn't matter," she insisted softly, almost breathless. When Arrol caught sight of Arin's eyes, he found them radiant blue and focused upon him, unwavering. The intensity of Arin's devotion gave Arrol pause — it was precisely why he wanted her with him, though the burden of command weighed his spirit — Arrol knew that Arin would not hesitate to follow him into the burning fires of death, never flinching from her self-ascribed place at his side. The military life had chosen them both and would forever keep them apart: it was a reality Arrol had long ago come to terms with and accept. She was one the finest naval officers he ever had the privilege of mentoring, and — most importantly — he could trust Arin with his very life.<br/><br/>Arrol poured two drams of dry, sweet liquor, handing one to Arin. He activated a holo-display and explained the entirety of their mission. He explained every ship he had mustered to date and those in other fleets yet to be intend to possess. "We still need an Electronic Warfare Frigate. I have my eye on the ISS<i>Midnight </i>... it has one of the most powerful CIIDC (Communication Interruption/Interception/Disruption Countermeasure) arrays in operation. Plus, it's in fleet ...<i>plus</i>, it's currently docked and unassigned at the Volo 5 Platform."<br/><br/>Arin followed along, listening intently, her finger toying with her lip. "Where's the current rallying point before the Offensive Jump?" she asked.<br/><br/>"To be determined. I'm thinking somewhere outside of general traffic and away from Rebel sympathizers," Arrol said.<br/><br/>"Of course," Arin said, thoughtfully. "We could rally somewhere hazardous, using the environment to ensure we are free of passing interlopers ... but, we can't risk losing a ship to a black hole if they arrive off-target ... nor should we absorb any radiation which could be tracked. What about ... the moon of Devon VI?"<br/><br/>"Where's that?" Arrol asked, using his fingers to scroll through an index of system names.<br/><br/>"It's just outside the asteroid belt within the Muaat Sector. It's an obscure location devoid of resources, purpose, hazards, or radiation. The Task Force could gather near the dark side and then jump in part or en mass?" Arrol began checking the known hyperlane routes for obstructions when he heard Arin ask. "So, what exactly have I agreed to do? You mentioned me not commanding a vessel, so ..." She watched him, bemused.<br/><br/>Arrol confirmed the suitability of Devon VI, leaving Arin in pregnant silence for half a minute before facing her to answer. "You'll be doing the most important job I can conceive: my executive officer. Not just for this battle cruiser, but for the entire operation. I guarantee you that our situation will not be as straight-forward as the Vice Admiral insists. Should anything happen to me, i need someone who can competently assume command without hesitation. I need someone who can be inserted into any role and into any vessel type. But more importantly, I need someone I can trust." Arrol let a seldom viewed smile slip past his grim exterior. "And, there's no one I trust more than you." He paused, ignoring the woman's attempt to contain her emotions, then turned toward his desk. "I have something for you."<br/><br/>He handed Captain Voss a sleek bag with folded garments within. "My executive officer should be of a rank commiserate with her experience and importance. Henceforth, I hereby promote you, Arin Celene Voss to the rank of Rear Admiral. This is your new uniform with proper rank insignias already fastened."<br/><br/>Arin simply stared at him with a look unlike anything he'd ever seen before. A few some time, she found her voice. "Thank you, sir," she said quietly. "I ..."<br/><br/>"... you intend to serve the Empire as you've served me. Yes, I know. Go and change; your new quarters are down the hall. I'll send word dismissing your shuttle and security."<br/><br/>"Yes, sir," she said, crisply. The Rear Admiral turned to depart.<br/><br/>"Be quick," the Admiral quipped with a smile. "We've an Electronic Warfare Frigate to commandeer!"