Godfrey d'Outremer

Three Imperial III Star Destroyers, pure white, the symbol of the Imperial Alliance emblazoned upon their outstretched dagger like hulls, emerged from hyperspace over the fallen world of Umbara. Whatever legitimacy the Umbaran government had once had, was now long gone. Before the Slaver’s Trial, it would have been seen as rampant Alliance aggression to show up with a full fleet and kick down the door of Umbarian Hegemony. Perhaps it still was, but fervor in the Galactic Community had dictated the fall of the evildoing government. Godfrey took a sip of stimcaf and ordered the comms officer to open up a channel on guard, In order to address the planet as a whole. It would be a brief address, there were multiple reports of the self defense militias powering down shields and weapons planet wide. The planet would surrender imminently

Starfields flickered and pulsed like one of the garish neon displays for courtesans that had plastered the skyscrapers on old Coruscant during the height of the Galactic Alliance’s power. And while those displays had promised much and delivered little, these starlight flickerings promised another entry into the fleet battle. A foe long forgotten in the many battles against the Sith. For in that moment the last vestiges of Galactic Alliance power tore themselves into realspace with a flash of crimson light at the rear of the House of Dragons Fleet. Having snuck swiftly from their base at Corellia, the remains of the once mighty Core Worlds battlegroup was finally here for their long awaited revenge. They had waited patiently since the failed invasion of their home system for the Sith to try to invade again. But the blow had never come. So the combined fleet had begun their own plans of attack. Now fully realized after the Sith Lords had committed their final elements. Among the dozens of capital ships, were the Belarus and majestic cruisers of the Fleet Modernization Programme alongside the light corvettes and bulk cruisers of the Corellian Home Guard. Beside them also were three Tagge class cruisers of the Falleen Diaspora who'se crew were far too eagre to rid the galaxy of the death cult. There too were the princes of Outremer with their blue painted Scythe battlecruisers and carrack cruisers in the vanguard of the GA fleet. And in the command bridge of the Scythe class battlecruiser Pacificateur sat SACCORE himself. The Supreme Allied Commander of the Core Worlds. The Galactic Alliance senator, Godfrey d’Outremer. The man who had faced the Dark Lord’s personal fleet at Corellia and had walked away with a total victory. “All ships, show these damn cultists how the Galactic Alliance gives its revenge.” And the fleet answered. And a host of turbolasers, missiles, and seige torpedoes blasted towards the Cultist fleet. These Sith aligned vagabonds were nothing more than a momentary obstacle to the return of a peaceful and democratic glactic government. And the GA would see them wiped away.

“She is their great uniter. If she dies their Empire dies. She is a popular figure, and who could take her place? A dried up old empire Moff? No, she is the last of them and their brightest face. We give them a promise. A promise of her legacy, a way to preserve what she died fighting for.” He shook his head. “A constitutional Monarchy. Something that maintains both of our desires but also keeps a strong republican background. The devil is in the details of course, Admiral. But…” He smiled widely and gave the man a bow that was more fitting to the courts of Outremer than a Republic ship. “I leave the matter in your capable hands. Thank you for your time.” And with that he saluted, then walked back to his shuttle.

“Sometimes Admiral…” He let his voice slow down to a growl, reading the shock, surprise, and anger in Slaughter’s eyes. This was a risk, but Godfrey had taken his lumps many times. It was time for him to put it all out in front of them both. The Galactic Alliance had died a death as painful as any friends. But At least the Galactic Alliance had been something. There was freedom there. And as if all the ghosts of Coruscant were behind him, he straightened into an equal parade ground posture to Slaughter’s. “…we who have been given the power to change the galaxy have to make a choice. We have to sacrifice our own egos, our own lives, for the lives of trillions who would be condemned to live under the iron fist of facsim.” He lifted his chin to look Slaughter in the eye. This was not about him, it was not about Slaughter. It was about freedom. It was about an entire generation of the galaxy being born under the yoke of tyranny. A tyranny with a smiling face, but tyranny nonetheless. “I do not think we could forgive ourselves if we sat on our hands and did nothing when we had the slightest chance to give the people freedom.”

Now it was time for him to ask the probing question. The Same probing question the Bothans would have asked if their clan leaders were in this secure bay. “Then perhaps we can do it without a war. Bloodlessly, or at least bloodlessly as possible. For their sake” He scratched at his beard for a moment, his eyes tracing every feature of the Admiral’s. The haggard and tired lines, a man running as much on Caf as he was idealism. He looked him in the eye again, lowering his voice as he spoke. “Their entire little new empire is built around Nasra. She was the fresh new face of a young pretty girl that shook up the long string of tired old men that made up the empire we fought against all those years ago. The moffs thought they could contain her, but she purged them of anyone disloyal to her with grim efficiency right after the battle of Carida. The entire movement is her. Without her there would be no Empire.” He raised an eyebrow. It was time to make the Davidian suggestion. “So put your fleet element in the vanguard. And when the Scarab focuses on the Misericordia. Fall away. Withdraw and let that child die in the glorious death she deserves. It doesn’t need to be obvious. And the firepower of a Dreadnaught is enough to make any admiral pull his forces back. You never even have to fire a shot in rebellion. Sure a few Imperials die, but their dream of a united fascist government dies with her. Your men are safe, their planets are safe…”

The soldier in him told him to get ready for a fight, but the long term senator told him something very different: It was time to back down from a confrontation. This wasn ot the time, and the other man was far too smart for such a thing. So he would do his best to deflect and dismantle a fight before there could be one. “To tell the truth I don’t know much about you Admiral, we never served with one another during the height of the Republic, and the resulting Galactic Alliance decided against us serving in any capacity with one another. My assessment was based on my own initial impressions, thoughts, and Idealism. I made a mistake on my assessment.” Godfrey ran a gloved hand through his graying beard. Giving the other man a look of apology the best he could without actually saying it. “We both lost nearly everything in the fall of Coruscant, I lost my wife and nearly everyone I ever called friend. I didn't mean to insult you or your intelligence. Or damn well anything you are fighting for. I was merely speaking in caution because I felt that I should. I see now that you were already steps ahead of myself. So now I must ask you Admiral, what can I do to be of assistance in your plans to preserve what little we can of the Republic?”

The look on Slaughter’s face told him all that he needed to know about the man’s intentions. He could smell the rage on his breath, and the small veins that bulged from anger were even more apparent from as close as they were both standing. Slaughter was short, but at point blank range, the man carried himself with a grim dignity. History, if such a thing survived the war, Godfrey thought, would be kind to the short admiral whose long and storied career stretched back the decades. But Godfrey himself was an old man now. He had spent the golden days of his thirties and forties in the senate. Gambling away the last days of peace with asinine propositions of trade and taxation. How many friends of the old alliance were now dead and buried? RIllian? Dead. Killed like Janhavi in the fall of Coruscant. What strength did the old Galactic Alliance survivors have? If this fight was going to happen it needed to be years ago. Not kriffing now. They had already spent far too much of their strength. One look out the viewport, or at the real time data displays that were prominent in the room would tell them the state of any Galactic Alliance centered secondary rebellion. How many of the starships in orbit with them were of Imperial make? How many of them were the diverse monarchist forces that the upstart Raven had brought into her cause? How many integrated GA units would actually turn blasters against their comrades in the name of democracy? Godfrey looked back at Slaughter and sighed. IT was time to do what he had always been very good at. His voice fell to a low growl. So only the Admiral could hear it. “Now I must say something that you may not want to hear. So forgive me for always playing the devil’s advocate, but I think I must do so again.” He absentmindedly straightened his jacket. Pulling futility at the starched pale blue fabric as if a better kept appearance would dull the knife he was about to proverbially stab into his comrade. “Who is left?” He made sure to catch the man’s gaze and hold it. “Tell me we have any allies waiting in the wings of this command room.” He pointed to the doorway, then to the Twi’lek assistant. “Tell me she is going to pull off a mask and it's going to be ShadowFett under there. Or Tenebris. Or Cadan. Or someone other than an idealistic young woman who doesn’t know she would be throwing her life away for a dream. No. Something less than a dream. A wisp of an idea. An Idea that died over Onderon then was buried in the rubble of Coruscant.” The ex-senator’s expression became pained. “If we had Gren Sairdonga, Cadio Sikaot, or even the much slandered Starlisk we might be able to bring something to the board other than prideful threats. But what forces can I bring to bear? The Bothans? My wife was a bothan if you remember. But the Bothans wouldn’t fight a war that could leave them diminished or even defeated. My own home planet’s prince has sworn undying loyalty to the Imperial Throne.” Godfrey took a breath then stepped away, surrendering to a long string of painful coughs. Which left him winded and gasping. He recovered a minute later, his face flushed. “Admiral I do not mean to sound defeatist but even Mon Calamari upon its liberation is now under stewardship of an Imperial Admiral. The new MC90’s captured in the underwater berths fully crewed by an integrated crew of Imperials and GA. We have no leverage. Unless you have an entire Katana Fleet and a revived Jedi Order hiding up those resplendent sleeves of yours.”

Godfrey took one look at the Admiral’s face and grimaced himself. The man exuded the feelings that were currently twisting themselves around in his stomach. A silent and ineffable rage that seemed to course its way through every blood vessel, streaming to devour every thought and word that proposed itself upon his lips. He could feel also the despair that followed every angry heartbeat. Was all that they had fought for for the last four years going to be for nothing? All those dead friends, beloved family, only to see that river of blood turn into the very beast that they were fighting to destroy? Or perhaps, like he had belittled those young jedi at Bothawui, there was something good in this new order. Gone forever would be the Senate on Coruscant. Gone too the mountains of bureaucracy, the inefficient military command, and the forced ignorance of the evils that took place in the outer rim. He leaned forward and shook his head. “I think it may be safe to say that Democracy is dead. At least on a galactic scale. There was even a Jedi present, the famous Wookiee one.” He looked up as if the heavens would have an answer. “What can we do?”

Godfrey held on as the gunship pilot decided to play some kind of prank on him. It was exceedingly unprofessional, especially for a high ranking member of the Rebel Alliance Military Command. He had saved Corellia for the forces sake and now this kid was playing all sorts of games with him. It was her right though, he had asked to get to the Admiral quickly, so he had no room to complain. He held onto the drop handle and did his best to keep a regal posture, even as they rocketed through turbulent atmosphere with little care for his aging knees. But that was the life he had chosen. And somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this would be his last war. And looking down to the approaching hanger, it was probably Slaughter’s last war as well. Old men had little use in the future, and they were both well past their prime, same with the shuttle of choice that he had been dispatched in. It spoke exceedingly more about the state of the Galactic Alliance Military in Exile than the aging senator and commander likely knew. He brushed his gloved hands down his crisp pale blue uniform, then stepped out of the LAAT/I gunship as it settled onto its landing gear. He tucked his cap under his arm and returned the Admiral’s injured salute with a crisp and well practiced one. Slaughter had not been in any direct action for some time, and the cast gave Godfrey a pause. But he was an Admiral, and Godfrey only a ranked commander. So he would not ask about it. “Admiral…” He looked about him, as if looking for spies. “I assume you have heard about the Imperial Meeting?”

“I don't care what he is doing, tell him I want to see him. And its kriffing urgent. Tell him I swore at you, threatened to kill you. Whatever you want. But I need to see Admiral Slaughter this damned instant.” The ex senator from Outremer, erstwhile politician, gambler, and SACCOR (Supreme Allied Commander Corellia) when it had mattered most, turned his eyes to fiercely glare at the random and ill-informed officer who had greeted him in the hanger bay. Godfrey had been a senator for one of the most Monarchist factions in the galactic senate. In fact he had been generally hated for his heated disparagement of the Jedi Order on the senate floor. But they, he and Slaughter, were military men and all that survived the Galactic Alliance of Free Planets. But for now the commander of the Easternmost military garrison of the Rebel Alliance waited beside his shuttle. Wearing the pale blue uniform of Outremer’s naval command.

“Idealism is what led us to this kriffing disaster. It was hope and idealism that had the Galactic Alliance disband their fleets in the outer rim. It was blind hope that caused the Jedi order to ignore the Sith while they actively subverted the Senate and the Mid Rim. Do not pretend that ignorance is anything but death. It killed your grandmaster. It killed Coruscant. It killed the Alliance. And it nearly killed your order.” He left off the 'Should' that he really thought and no doubt that the young and naïve jedi would intone. Thinking of the countless Jedi that had been executed in the streets of Iziz while holocameras watched in eager fascination. Perhaps it would have been better had the Jedi order perished completely with Darex, Darkfire, Scorpio, and Jade-Skywalker. "Your order died on Onderon and Coruscant. They died because they did not have a kriffing plan." There was now venom in his voice. "They went to Onderon against military council and guess what happened? A hundred jedi were executed on the streets. A hundred Jedi I knew. Slaughtered like pigs, begging for their lives as the Dark Lord cut their hearts from their chests." His voice took an even more dreadful turn. "Where was your council when the heavens fell? They died like a trillion others, a planet sized moon crushing them where they stood." He shook his greying head. The venom gone, replaced by the sadness of a man that had seen too many friends die. “Hope is a good thing. But hope in ignorance is folly. If the child wishes to keep in that ignorance I do not blame him. But that is the idealism of children. Not men, and not the men that will save this galaxy while innocent planets burn! Do not be ignorant and believe that some democracy will come from this War. Win or loose that institution is over. No democracy will be built under Raven, and certainly not under me.” He turned his sad gaze back to the young boy. “You must grow up if you are to survive this war. I recommend you do it sooner than later. For we old men will die in this war. And you must carry the lessons we painfully learned into the next generation.” His eyes went back to the Jedi Knight. "Now is there anything else you need from me?"

Godfrey looked as if he would strike the young apprentice. Give him a backhand or box about the ears for being insolent. But he controlled himself. Wishing for a moment that he was back on Outremer where young men with such bad ideas were pilloried for the court and citizenry to laugh at. “Have you heard anything that we have been saying? Do you ignore what your eyes show you?” He pointed a gloved hand at the monitors which were showing burning bodies and a burning city. “Do you think the Naboo with all their non existent military did anything but surrender? No! The Sith have no mercy for anyone who have opposed them in the past, or even dare raise their voice against them in peaceful protest.” He shook his head sadly. “And though your points on democracy do not fall on deaf ears, they fall on ears that have lived through three republics. Three chances. Three failures. No, democracy lies in the gutter, bleeding like a run over dog. And the only thing we can do to help it, is to put it down.”

Godfrey shook his head sadly. “If Naboo falls, and with all intel it will, they will come directly here.” He held up a datapad. “We have several plans to evacuate the Bothan council and the clan leadership. But with most of our assets scattered over a dozen systems we will need the combined arms of the Alliance to defend this world. For if this system falls, Nar Shaddaa and corellia are next.” He did not need to say what would happen then. The loss of life would be catastrophic. He looked back to the child. “Alliances built on common ground will last generations. The Galactic Alliance was a hasty and shoddily built republic with little interest in actually protecting the people. Imperials that were promised a place in government in the peace treaty were shunned by longtime Republic allies. I was there and I saw the fractures before the signatories even finished drawing their pens.” His eyes glanced up, as if he were remembering a thousands sunsets. “It fell apart quite violently, and the Remnant were the only ones left standing after coruscant. If the Sith were to be defeated we needed to work together….” He grimaced. “And when we do achieve our final victory, I do not foresee a democracy at the end of it. And nor should I, all of the great leaders of ‘Democracy’ died in their ivory towers as the heavens fell.” He smiled suddenly. “Democracy died the death it deserved is the lesson to be learned from the Galactic Alliance. But come I wax poetic, perhaps its me just complaining about my pension fund dying alongside Hesperidium.”

Godfrey grimaced noticeably, his beaded face cringing at the harsh tones the child was pumping out into the room. He looked back to the Jedi knight and then pointed to an overhead screen which was showing the scenes of horror of a full scale invasion of the resort world of Naboo. “It looks like your Grandmaster was right on the objectives, but wrong on the timing. As for your operative, I have no clue of anyone named that. Though the Spynet will likely answer for this task. Blackmorne bring your datapad over here. As for you young one.” He looked immensely sad for a moment. Then looked at the young apprentice. “I was indeed at the Death Star, lost many friends, and as for Carida, that was a separate organization known as the Imperial Knights. They are the jedi under direct control of the Rebel Alliance Leader. Empress Raven Nasra, of whom I fought at the Death Star. Alliances are like that, one day you want to kill someone, the next you want to hug them. And may your generation of Jedi Knights be stronger and more moral than the last one. Present company excluded of course.”

"Oh well if the Grandmaster sent you, you are most welcome.” He paused for a moment then gestured them both to follow him. “You say Draygo is grandmaster now? Do you rotate them out? I could have sworn last year it was someone else, but I have a lot on my mind. Bring the kiddo if you need to. I am sure the force will have willed it.” He ignored the child best he could, being that he never really liked the sniveling brats, but he was polite to him. But they sure got in the way of state business. How many meetings as a senator had he been cancelled on by representatives because of some problem with children… But that did not matter. Blackmorne opened a durasteel door and they entered a plain room. The Bothan slipped in a earbud of some kind and began to scan the room with her datapad. Likely looking for listening devices so he ignored her. “Go ahead master Jedi.”