Ylesia

[Vangar]

The large starfighter-hunting corvette arrived in orbit of Ylesia without incident. As Vangar Longfang stood staring out a portside window the Imperial Moff of the Anoat Sector drew a sharp breath. There were so few ships in orbit. Even as a mixed band of fighters moved to intercept them, Vangar shook his head. It was the best the best the Alliance had to offer st the moment. The battle had taken an even larger toll than the armored reptilian had estimated.

 

The commander of the Dawnstar quickly cleared the line of security questions with years of experienced and knowledgable answers. It was that same  fearless upfront attitude that had seen the Dawnstar’s survival in not just her long length of service, but also rack up an impressive kill count over Nar Shaddaa.
 

Soon enough the corvette was settling onto landing struts within the designated landing areas of established camp. For a rendezvous point, the place was decidedly well equipped and prepared with prefab and solid structures standing side by side beneath the backdrop of a towering stone temple-esque structure.

 

Before he had even disembarked, Vagnar had obtained a list of known surviving Imperial and Rebel personnel. He was relieved to see that both Slaughter and Beck’s names were on the list. The Empress and Kolchak’s names were expected among the missing. What was of concern was that the Jedi Grandmaster had not yet been accounted for; nor had a plethora of Imperial Sector Governors and Moffs. Where he had once been one of many appointed regional governors overseeing a large swath of space, worlds and people, he was now one of few. New leaders would beed to be appointed, drawn from the best and brightest of the people, those with dedication to the advancement of peace and prosperity not just for themselves, but for all.

 

Running his finger down the list, the Barabel’s eyes moved back and forth scanning the people moving about all around them and the list as he and the small cabal of officers made their way through Rebel and Imperial alike. All of them stood side by side working together. As they gained the makeshift base of operations that made up what remained of joint Imperial and Rebel Intelligence Command in the surface, the Baron Administrator’s eye focused on the single Kaleesh male who seemed to have taken charge. Vangar tapped a clawed finger on the name on the dstapad. “I thought so,” he whispered to himself nodding. Qessax Jal Todda, the son of a Kaleesh warlord and a Intelligence Operative that Vangar recognized. Of course the wrinkled red-skinned reptile looked like he had aged a lifetime in the few years since, but even with their limited interactions while Vangar was just the Baron Administrator of Cloud City and not responsible for the whole of Bespin itself, he recognized the man. Standing outside a long table that seemed to separate the work area from the outside attired as he was in a mix of the regalia of the stations he now commanded, his cape and belt buckle to mark his authority over Cloud City, a fine gold chain his rank as guildmaster over Bespin’s powerful trade guilds, rank insignia to denite his position as a Sector Governor and Moff, Vangar rapped his armored gray knuckles on the table to catch the attention of the Kaleesh. Locking eyes, Vangar offered a wicked smile, his needled teeth on full display of threatening menace. It was not within the animalistic nature of his people to smile toothily like the humans. The intimidating glare, almost a challenge, to the Captain running the station reflected all the seriousness of their situation. It was not one to be taken lightly. The next steps would reverberate through the future. The totality of the free galaxy hung in the balance. So yes, Vangar dared the intelligence officer to challenge him. He did not have time for pleasantries.

 

”Captain,” he hissed. “There is much to discuss. Too much for right here. Too many Sith escaped our clutches on Nar Shaddaa. The damage they dealt was catastrophic. We do not know what they plan next. We must be prepared. This world will not be safe forever. What does your father need to establish Kalee as a safe world for the forces of light?” Leaning forward, Vangar gripped Qessax by the shoulder and lowered his voice to where it could be barely heard over the hustle and bustle. “I will be at a table outside the Rebel Officer’s mess tonight, twenty-two hundred hours.”

 

_____________________________
 

That night, reclining in a collapsible chair beside a small round table a short distance from the rest of the tables outside the almost deserted Rebel Officer’s mess hall, Vangar sat. Thick smoke wafted in the still humid air about the Barabel’s head as he took another long drag on his tabac stick. Sitting on the table was a single bottle of Corellian Malt Whiskey and two glasses already poured.

 

”Glad you could make it captain. I trust you have had time to acquire an answer?” He whispered as the Kalee arrived letting his words hang in the air until the intelligence officer could draw near. “The Sith have fled. The Grandmaster is missing. The Empress is missing. We cannot presume she is dead without proof. Our fleets and ranks are decimated. The galaxy needs a leader. They need hope Qessax. Kolchak knew this. He fought the darkness from the shadows and carried hope where there was none.”

 

 @Qessax Jal Todda

[Vangar]

Vangar pulled the tabac stick from his mouth, gray sweet smoke curling upwards from the tip as he regarded the Kaleesh and pondered his words. Spinning the vice between his fingers, he watched as ash crumbled to the table and the embers extinguished themselves before he spoke. “The fate of the galaxy hangs in the balance. Kalee is not the only world in need today.”

 

Vangar took another long drag of tabac. “But the Outer Rim is a vast place, full of mysterious peoples and great untapped resources and uncharted spaces. To rebuild our Empire, an Alliance that spanned the whole of the galaxy, not just select worlds, would help to prevent catastrophes like Nar Shaddaa from happening again.” The Barabel’s cold eyes levelled against @Qessax Jal Todda’s as he continued. “Bespin has need of factories, storage facilities that can be reinforced and protected. Tibanna gas is an even more valued commodity now as we seek to rebuild. The people of Kalee have shown a remarkable tenacity and will not back down in the face of the enemy.” Vangar sat back in his chair, picking up his own glass of liquor and holding it to the dim light of a distant streetlight. It shone through the amber liquid and refracted against the reptile’s gray skin. “If your tribe will take responsibility for these facilities, I believe that Bespin will provide adequate defensive equipment to ensure your cities are protected. As you know, ships are at a premium these days. We will need to find more for the defenses of all who will call our Alliance home. What we can offer are several wings of Storm Four Cloud Cars, an air force against any invader. That is, if you will accept this agreement with the Council of Bespin Trade Guilds?”

 

”Grand Moff, Supreme Commander Kolchak is gone. You were one of his top agents. Can you rally your men? We do not know if the Empress is alive or dead. I can hardly take the word of a deranged Sith warlord. We need evidence. Find her or find proof of her eternal demise. To have hope, we must have a leader. Someone to stare into the danger of the unknown, place themselves between these peoples and the unseen monsters that lurk in the dark. The Empress did that. It is my prayer she can do so again. Until then, we will rally the people. They need hope, an Alliance built on the hope of a better tomorrow.”

Edited July 5, 2022 by Vangar

[Vangar]

Vangar set his glass down as his eyes beheld the engraved tube. Instinctively, he knew what it was. “How’d you come by that?” He whispered almost suddenly wary of the Kaleesh before him. Vangar’s eyes moved from the tubular container with its intricate filigree to the diplomat-warrior before him. It held what very well could be considered the last known orders of Empress Raven, a promotion, the continuity of a kingdom, the future of the Galactic Empire and all that remained of it contained within one ancient vial, upon a single parchment. It was a parchment that carried with it the legitimacy of rule and the responsibilities as such. How this man had come to hold it spoke as much of the trust placed in him as did the fact that he now seemed to offer it up.

 

Slowly, almost cautiously, Vangar Longfang reached out, his own clawed hand coming to rest adjacent to @Qessax Jal Todda’s on the tube. “Find the Empress. That is your sacred duty. The Alliance, not just an Empire, needs a leader in this, our time of need.”

 

Vangar remained, talking with Qessax deep into the night. He remained long after the liquor was exhausted and the officers’ mess closed and cleaned for the night. They spoke of their homeworlds and their development, the Imperium, the Rebellion, the last battle and the trials that awaited them in the days, weeks, and months to come. As the two finally parted ways, Vangar clutched the ornamental cylinder in his claws. Just before vanishing into the night, Vangar turned back to Qessax, “I hope to see either you or your brother representing Kalee at the assembly tomorrow afternoon. The galaxy is turning over a new leaf comrade.”

 

————————————-

 

The following afternoon, the sweltering sun shone down through a cloudless sky. The humidity hung heavy in the windless air. It clung to everything. A dozen stone stair steps led to an open stone plaza surrounded by large white stone arches of carved reliefs and twisting brown vines, cultivated into intricate whirls and brilliant blooms of pink and orange. 
 

In the past, legions of troops would have stood at attention to herald the importance of such an event. Not now. Not here. Given the circumstances, the hustle and bustle of crews as they worked to save lives, salvage equipment, and reestablish communications, there was little pomp and circumstance. A single elongated horn gave a long low growl that echoed across the plaza and out into the surrounding encampments of prefabricated shelters, buildings, and makeshift structures. Any who were available were invited to attend the call, having been notified that a memorial service and announcement on the future of the Alliance would be given.

 

As the horn carried across the compound, Vangar, adorned in the trappings of his positions and flanked by a pair of Bespin Wing Guards appeared; as did many others, Imperial governors, planetary rules and representatives, sector overlords, commanders and more, each invited by Vangar or personal messenger. They all assembled together on the raised plaza, many more gathered at the base of the steps anxious to pay their respects and hear what then future may hold for each of them.

 

A portable wooden podium, simple innit’s elegance had been placed centerstage, an amplification system attached to it to accent the natural enhancement of the plaza and to broadcast the assembly throughout the compound for those who may be unable to break away.

 

Men, women, and droids gradually filled the waiting chairs until there was standing room only. After that, they crowded about the fringes. As the long dull wail of the horn faded into silence, so too did the hushed whispers of the crowd. An Imperial Stormtrooper Commander adorned in black stepped up to the podium. “Brothers, sisters. Thank you all for coming.” He slowly gestured behind him to those assembled dignitaries and commanders. His moments betrayed the weightiness of the situation. “We are gathered here today to remember those who paid the ultimate sacrifice, those lost in the line of duty, taken by our enemies into spaces unknown. Those you see behind me are here representing the myriad of militaries who stood shoulder to shoulder with the forces of the Imperium. Each of them will stand and read the names of their lost. None will be forgotten. After each dignitary, we will observe a full minute of silence in honor of those fallen. Many were lost and this may take some time. Duty still calls. If you must come or go, all we ask is that you do so with the reverence such an event deserves.” Stepping back, the commander yielded the podium to the first dignitary, a Corellian high-ranking General adorned in medals and the legendary blood stripe.

 

The grizzled veteran stepped to the podium and one by one began to read the names of every Corellian known to have been lost in the battle. It took well over an hour before he concluded. After the moment of silence, the King of Mon Cal stepped forward with tears in his eyes. Clutching a datapad, the man read off a list of Mon Cal, Quarren, and countless other species who had called their watery world home since the Sith had been repulsed. Each of them were brothers bound by the baptismal ocean waters of Dac.

 

Bothawui, the Jedi, Cathar, Skor II, Fondor, Ryloth, and countless more continued to follow throughout the afternoon and into the evening. Hundreds of thousands of names, families torn apart, no world left unaffected be it by one or ten thousand deaths. People came and went, reporting for duty tours and completing them. Soldiers, sailors, marines, Jedi, Imperial Knights, medics, and more came through. 
 

It was well past midnight when the last name rang out across the Allied compounds. Vangar and countless others had stood, unmoving, for hours; safe for the time he stepped forward to read the names of those lost from Bespin, Nothoiin, Gentes, all the worlds of the Anoat Sector, even a dozen names of smugglers who had called a frigid compound on Hoth home. He then had returned silently to his place, tears glimmering in his reptilian eyes.

 

When the last name had faded from the hot night air, Vangar stepped forward again. Gripping the podium with one hand, he gingerly placed the metallic inlaid scroll tube at the top for all to see.

 

”One life was too many, but each of these died free, died fighting for something they believed in, someone they loved. Do not forget them. Remember them. The fight is not over. Every day, remember those who went before you, who paid the ultimate price. Remember their sacrifice and know that you too may still be called upon to make the same. The Sith menace broke against the ramparts of Nar Shaddaa, shattered into countless pieces against the black emptiness between the stars. It was not without sacrifice. Even now, worlds across the galaxy are casting off the shackles of oppression, still sacrificing in the name of freedom. We support each of these worlds and stand with them. We will continue to take the fight to the Sith wherever they may be found. We will rescue the captured and avenge the fallen. We will ensure a peaceful future for our children and our children’s children. The armies of the Rebel Alliance are devastated. The fleet of the Imperium is decimated. The Jedi are worn thin. We have been strained to our breaking point. No one entity is strong enough to carry the banner of freedom across the cosmos. And so, we will continue to join together in brotherhood and mutual understanding, a belief in freedom for all, the end of slavery, the advancement of life and fulfillment for each living being. A council composed of representatives from each sector and world, appointed from their own traditions, will advise and oversee the governance of the galaxy, safe guarding peace and freedom for all.” Clasping the scroll tube, Vangar held it up in the air.  “Our Empress, Raven, was taken in battle. If she has fallen, her body was never recovered. Even now agents of Imperial Intelligence are working unceasingly to ascertain what has befallen our leader. Until that time, I, Moff Vangar Longfang, by my right as an appointed governor of the Empire, will stand as Crown Regent of the Imperium, and by the consent of my fellow rulers and governors, as  Viceroy of this newly named but longstanding Galactic Alliance. Together, we will stand side by side, Bothan and Zeltron, Rebel, Imperial and Hapan, Cathar and Kaleesh, Human and Nonhuman, all of us. None will be left behind, pushed aside. All lives valued equally. Remember those that came before you. Remember their sacrifices. Carry their memories as you serve those beside you and those yet to come. Together, as one united Galactic Alliance, we can protect each other and end the scourge of injustice that even now lurks int he shadows.”

 

There were many more details on how the galaxy would proceed forward. Already agents of the Alliance were working to assist those seeking freedom and to hunt down, arrest, and purge the remnants of Sith influence the galaxy over. Those were details for another time. What was needed now was reverence, honor, and a path forward. The minds of everyone weighed as heavy as the humid air that soaked their uniforms and clothes. The hour was late and as the ceremony came to a close, the men, women, and droids of the Alliance shuffled out in silence. This was not the place to talk. There would be plenty of that in the mess tents and mead halls of their allies.

[Vangar]

A prefabricated command center that had sat for so long it had practically become a part of the landscape sat shadowed enshrined in shadows on the outskirts of the Allied command sector of Yselia. It was not a commonly used facility, even in the hubbub of evacuations and establishment of command. Its lack of modernized amenities and distance had relegated the former intelligence warehouse to disuse. The few lights that still worked inside cast long shadows amongst the stacks of outdated reports and briefs. 
 

It was here, deep within aisles of boxes intel files that Vangar sat, a hunched figure adorned in the finest regalia Bespin had to offer. He had just announced his succession of the Empress as head of the Imperial Remnant, the crown regent until such a time as she could be restored or confirmed lost forever; more so, he had taken the bold step to assume command over the entirety of the Galactic Alliance as a whole, the Remnant, the Rebellion, and a dozen or more different groups bound together under a single banner to bring freedom and prosperity across the galaxy. This meeting was a part of that, couriers had carried requests of attendance to the highest ranked commanders, future military leaders, of the Alliance. @Beck Pilon, @Sgt. Slaughter, @Qessax Jal Todda @Queen Namari.

 

There was no fanfare; no open displays of power beyond the select few Wing Guards lurking in the shadows, Vangar’s chosen few to secure the meeting from unwanted eavesdroppers; no broadcast of power. This was a meeting of coordination, of blood-bound brethren to carry forward. It was here that the future of the Alliance and all she encompassed would be forged.

 

Looking around the angular table, Vangar saw the battle worn and haggard faces of men and women who had already seen so much, dedicated so much, lost so much. Each carried with them a zeal, an inexplicable force that carried them forward. He nodded a greeting to each of them as they sat, offering soft greetings and a shook hand where applicable. Small talk filled the room until the last of them had taken their seat. “Thank you all for coming,” he addressed the select group. “The galaxy is exposed. I do not need to tell any of you how exposed that leaves us. You lot are the heroes of the Rebellion, of resistance in the face of absolute detestation. Your galaxy cannot ask any more than each of you have already given, and yet they must. In the void, we must step out and be strong; the strength every man, woman, and child can rely on for prosperity and protection.”

 

He turned to each of them, one by one, “Qessax Jal Todda,” he looked into the reptilian warlike eyes of the Kaleesh, “You were the protégé of Admiral Kolchak and you knew his operation best; well, what one could know of such a thing.  We are looking you to take over where he left off, to be the shadowy eye and hand of this Alliance, to route out agents of the Sith and sin where they hide. To that end, we need to find a new fleet of warships to defend our fledgling governance.”

He turned to the ruler of Naboo, “Queen Anne, your people have suffered greater than many in the galaxy. You know firsthand the atrocities the Sith can inflict on the defenseless. It is worlds like yours that will make the backbone of our defenses, peoples who will never be oppressed again.” He looked from Anne to Qessax, “There are other worlds insulated from the galaxy. Their friendship, their fleets, would be a welcome shield against the unknown.”

 

“Of course,” he turned to the others, “Each world is expected to contribute to the defense of the Alliance, but not at the expense of their own. No world should be left defenseless, but should be expected to contribute to their own welfare and to help their neighbor from their excess. Bruce, no one could ask more than you have given. If you would command the allied forces of our worlds, to see to the aid and defense of any member world by the rest, it would be an honor and sacrifice to all who place their trust in us.”

 

”That is not enough though,” Vangar surveyed the group, “I am no battle lord , but a man of security and business, and even I have heard tales of lost fleets, of craft setting in drydocks the galaxy over. We must find them. Finish them.” Vangar’s eyes fell to Admiral Pilon, “Crew them.”

 

”Beck, your experience is invaluable. The forces of the Imperial Remnant remain the biggest known force in the galaxy, even if it is just a shadow of what it once was. The men look to you, as do I. If you would take your command to the Core, reinvigorate the war college there, and prepare a new generation of sailors, marines, and commanders to stand in the gap against the unknown.”

 

”No one of us can carry this cause alone. It only together, by the will of those who call this galaxy home, those who wish to see it free, that we can serve them to the greatest good for all. What say each of you? I invite your thoughts and opinions. Let us work together side by side to serve.”

[Vangar]

A smile played across the near-lipless maw of Vangar. His needled smile was more predatory in appearance than pleased, but his intention; however unintentional, was pleased. Listening to these before him, they brought a vigor that he knew they would. Even Pilon, with his single line answer. 
 

The reptilian Crown Regent had to blink several times as he took in the Queen of Naboo. She presented a ferocity of which he was not familiar with in the Naboo people. She was right though, they needed that strength.

 

Nodding, Vangar fished a tabac stick from his coat pocket. Flicking the auto-ignitor, the end of the stick glowed orange, wisps of smoke trailing upwards into the singular light. He took a draw as he listened to Slaughter. when he finished, Vangar interjected. “You are absolutely right. Now is not the time for weakness, but for a show of strength; wether we have it or not. We must regain it and soon. Let us mourn our dead, build monuments to their sacrifice, but not at the expense of the future. The people of this galaxy will look to us. Lets give them something to trust in. Let us all return to our posts and begin to carry the galaxy into a new day, and we will protect that day.”

 

His eyes scanned the group before he offered his final words of encouragement and instruction.

”Find us fleets. If they can function or be brought to function, we will take them. Train crews, sailors, commanders, marines. Command them. Rebuild your worlds. Rebuild the homes of the many who still cling to life. Fortify your worlds, our Alliance. In the meantime, see to it that any remnants of the Sith are found and arrested, their tendrilled hands of darkness purged and pulled from the control of people’s lives. They will not be allowed to control the lives of so many ever again.” Vangar’s voice trailed off. He had little more to see. There was much work to be done and leaders were needed. These here were leaders and they were needed by their people.

 

Pushing his chair back, it scraped against the duracrete floor. The barabel stood, his countenance assertive and astute. “I have every confidence in your leadership. You did not fall before the onslaught of the Sith and you will not falter now. Go and serve.” The lizard’s clawed hand came up in a brisk palm forward salute. “Whatever you need, find it, if you cannot ask the Alliance. We will do what we can.”

 

There was little left to be said. Vangar knew the tremendous tasks he had requested of each of them. He knew that they would need time, time they may not have, to come to terms with this new reality. He trusted that each of them would be up to it and would help lead their galaxy into an era of peace.

 

The hour was late and the morning would come early. If he could catch a few hours of sleep he would. He would need to find someone to speak for the Jedi. They too would be essential in these next steps.

[Vangar]

The next morning Vangar rolled from his bunk before the dawn.  It was a precious solace of silence before the din of a galaxy in turmoil engulfed his every waking moment once again. Days of coordination and reestablishment of alliances old and new, the drafting of new charters and outlining of overarching agreements that bound the totality of the universe into an outlook of good while still allowing each world, people, and culture the freedom to direct their own paths. It really was too much for one man to handle. Vangar knew that and even as he stood in the heavy humid pre-dawn air, his  body moving through the katas of his craft for the umpteenth time, his mind was not in it.

There was the Council of Governors, Imperial Moffs and planetary or sector rulers ranging from elected officials to warlords; amongst them the galaxy was divided into more palatable chunks. The day to day governance and establishment of order left to the forces of each overseer and their already established chains of command. Each was supplemented by the Alliance where need may call. And the needs right now were greater than ever.

 

Vangar’s clawed hands moved in a waterfall of continuous motion, each extension a fluid riposte of attack and defense. Practiced over a lifetime, developed in caves of Barab and perfected in the skies of Bespin, it came as natural to the newfound leader of the Alliance as did breathing.

 

The Alliance itself was the binding glue that would hold it all together. Carried by the remaining might of the Imperial Remnant and her forces, they would continued to trod forward with the purpose of the Rebellion as a path and the morals of the true Jedi as a guiding light. Forged together. It was this Alliance that needed strengthening, for even as they stood strong together as survivors, another onslaught like that on Nar Shaddaa they would not be able to withstand. So many pieces of unsecured line flopped in the wind of this, the sailing wreckage that they truly were; and yet, they were still seaworthy and ready to fight until the end. With each day more lines were secured and sails and breaches mended. Each day they grew stronger. The memorial to commemorate the dead and honor the sacrifices, the appointment of the Governor’s Council, the establishment of Imperial Intelligence already continuing their work in the shadows, the meeting last night to discuss their military mindsets; each was a step.

 

Vangar’s feet slid just above the ground, his weight carefully shifting between them as easily as his body flowed through the maneuvers. A step here, a feint and twist, rocking back to parry, in tandem with his body, the Barabel flowed like a leaf dancing slowly upon the currents of a soft spring breeze as he beat down the grass beneath his bare heels.

 

As the sun began to peak through the trees, the Crown Regent brought his practices to a close, the call of a morning bird in the distance signaling the awakening of the camp of both refugees and politicos alike. With bis body temperature raised and now warmed by the rays of the morning sun, Vangar Longfang returned to the early morning hustle of deliveries and preparations. Surely by now, he had to be awake.

 

The Empress had been the head of the Imperial Knights, a faction that Vangar would be the first to admit he did not fully understand. Having parted paths with the Jedi sometime in the past, they maintained many similar ideals, following the paths of good. With her missing in action and presumably killed, they too were left without a leader and until the Empress could be found or her desth confirmed would likely remain in a situation sinilar to his own; a ruler in all but title. The Crown Regent of the Imperial Remnant, Chairman of the Board of Governord, Moff of the Anoat Sector and more, Vangar would have to conduct himself in a way worthy of a title he did not carry.

 

The dining hall was large, set up to provide a continuous line of meals to those evacuated and unable to be fed elsewhere. In the first moments of the day only a few huddled over their morning caf contemplating their lives and what was to come. Each sat alone as far apart as one could within the still cool confines of the hall.

 

It was here, that Vangar Longfang, unadorned in his official splendor, the splendor of Bespin and beyond, but draped in a  casual robe not unlike those worn by the Jedi when they trained but free of any such affiliations, poured himself a cup of streaming nearly black caf from an industrial-sized contraption.

 

”Contispex,” Vangar hissed kindly as the smaller towering man, @Raphanel appeared in the line beside him. “I am glad to see that you and your order have survived. Come, join me, won’t you?” He offered the steaming mug of caf to the Chandrillian moving to pour another for himself before making his way towards a vacant table with no one else around.

 

Sliding his large form onto the bench was not an easy task, but with his knees bent upwards the Barabel managed. Cupping the warm mug in his hands, Vangar offered what was an attempt at a warm smile, lipless as it were to the Lord Commander. “How is it you fair my good sir? We have all endured great hardship, and yet we must continue to endure. The loss of so many Knights cuts me deeply. To be cut down as they stood in the gap, each a sunbeam against a storm.” He shook his head heavily. “Like the Jedi, your wisdom and guidance is coveted by many, but none more so than I and our newfound sense of brotherhood.”

 

Pausing, Vangar blew on his caf, steam rolling upwards to shroud his eyes for a moment as he regarded the de facto leader of the Imperial Knights, defenders of the Imperium.

 

———————————————

 

Elsewhere on the planet, as the morning began to progress, a lithe Zabrak messanger clad in nondescript, and if truth would have it, rather dirty coveralls that stank of hyperfuel ran up to @Tilt07. The man was clearly out of breath, but did his best to remain standing and not double over. “Sir,” he panted. “Director Qessax, successor to Grand Moff Kolchak in Imperial Intelligence has requested that you proceed with all haste to his location. Your Alliance needs you.” Before Tilt and company could even respond, the man pressed a GPS locator beacon into the man’s hand and turned and hurried away.

[Vangar]

A soft chuckle hissed through the lizard’s teeth as he set his cup down to shake the warrior’s hand. “Is it ever not about the business of the Imperium with you lot?” He asked warmly before his hands settled back around his mug. Turning his head he looked about to make sure there was no one close enough to overhear. “Such a place is not the usual way of such conveyances and discussions, but when one hails from the Outer Rim . . . “ he paused letting the words hang in the air. He had a different upbringing than most so-called politicians. It was this difference that had allowed him to succeed where many had not; he was

more of a mercenary with a silvered-tongue than a conniving bureaucrat setting about hushed halls and calling on secured lines. The galaxy was much more real, tangible.  It was with this outlook that Vangat would seek to guide the fate of the free galaxy. It was an ideal of survival without the ability to trust completely, knowing one’s self and what one could do and upon whom to lean in a dire situation. One was responsible for his or her own fate where lawlessness prevailed even under the watchful eye of powers and principalities.

 

”Perhaps you are right.” He continued, sitting up from his forward-leaning position at the table. The entire table seemed to shift as the bench beneath him groaned and moved. “Time is a valued commodity that we cannot afford to waste. Right now, the chow hall is empty enough to be more secure than many stately meeting chambers so often favored for such discussions. But then again, perhaps we are just two old Imperials catching up after a brutal slaughter. Aged by what we have seen well beyond our years.”

 

“Tell me of your order, without the Empress who is it that directs your paths?”

 

”Beside the force obviously,” he smiled. “What will you do now until we can bring back the safe return of out Queen or establish her eternal demise? What the. becomes of your order?”

 

As if to signal his line of questions was done, if but for the moment, the brute of a Barabel cradled his ceramic cup of brown steaming caf and gingerly lifted it to his toothy maw. A glimmer of a smile could be seen twinkling in the furthest reaches of his reptilian slitted eyes; a glimmer that counteracted the imposing presence that came inherently with the fat-straddled muscle and thick blaster-scarred and resistant skin.

[Vangar]

Vangar gingerly set his cup back on the table as the Knight spoke of strength and freedom. He nodded, noting the air of resentment and disgust at the mention of the Jedi, filing that away for query later.

 

As the Master finished, Vangar casually picked up a spoon and stirred what remained of his caf. Silence filled the void between him as he pondered the man’s views on slavery and democracy. 
 

“A society built upon the backs of the weak cannot hope to stand.  Your Order must stand against the shadows of evil.  I expect nothing less from each of you. Do not waiver in your commitments. As for the other thing, each world, each culture will live by it’s own code and creed and system of governance. So long as they live in the light and do not grow in shadow, they shall be free to govern their own destinies.” He pulled the spoon from his cup and sat it on the table with a clink. “The Alliance however,” he paused before adding, “and the Imperium,”

 

”are under my leadership, for the time being. And for that time, every voice will be heard, opinion considered, but the final decision shall be resigned to the leadership of the council. Their counsel will be heard, discussed, and debated and then I will make the choice on which path the galaxy will follow. That burden will be mine alone to bear.” 
 

The room was beginning to fill, the earliest ranks of militants and cannot-sleep-due-to-the-nightmares-of-reality refugees seeking solace in the familiarity of what the industrial machine of the combined Alliance could offer; a ground out spread of the same prefabricated meals day in and day out. It was always the same. Banthaloaf on Taungsday and biscuits and gravy every Benduday morning. 
 

Slowly Vangar began to slide himself out from the bench and table. It was a delicate process to avoid upsetting the entire construct.

 

Once he was free he offered Raphanel a smile. “The best minds in the galaxy brought together to be heard, but not mired in the bureaucracy of the history of the Republic or persecuted for daring to speak, sent to the mines of some forsaken world to never be heard from again.”  Extending an immense scar-covered clawed hand to @Raphanel “If you are willing and your duties permit, the Alliance is undertaking an operation that I believe would benefit from your abilities and our beliefs.”

 

The Barabel gestured to the door as he picked up his cup and spoon to deposit it in a receptacle. Outside, he began to walk away from the morning bustle towards a quieter area of camp. “@Qessax Jal Todda Should meet us here momentarily with greater detail. This should be kept quiet.”

 

”For the good of the Alliance.”

[Vangar]

As the group seemed to fall together, Vangar walked and listened, his reptilian eyes scanning their surroundings. One could never be too sure who or what might be listening. As they spoke he directed the group away from the waking camp, the hustle and bustle of the morning. They continued walking until they had taken leave of the makeshift Alliance command post. He must remember to set up an actual government somewhere more stable. This most certainly would not do for the long run.

 

As they moved amongst the field of flowing stalks of shava grain, the viceroy carefully pondered the plan and objections. It was a bold plan, one worthy of the exploits of the late Nikolai Kolchak. “Bold.” He nodded. “Such a vessel would be a welcome boon to our fragile arrangement.”

 

Turning to face @Qessax Jal Todda his rigid face grew even more serious, if that was even possible. “But the master of the Imperium’s Knights has a point. Too many that came before us behaved in such ways and despoiled the names of the Imperium, the Rebellion, and the Jedi. I do not think all is lost however.” Vangar looked to @Tilt07 and his brethren clone troopers and a smile spread across his daggered needle-like teeth. “Each member of the Alliance is expected to contribute to the wellbeing of the galaxy, but not at the expense of their own. Especially now with the threat of the Sith still lurking on the fringes of the galaxy.” His gaze passed from the clones to @Raphanel, “But if the Umbaran government denies the existence of such a craft that our intelligence operatives report is close to operational, it is the duty of this Alliance to see that such a craft does not fall into the hands of an organization like the Syndicates or the Hutts.”

 

”A small strike team should still be able to take command of that vessel,” he thought aloud, “provided we can take control of the droids and computers that control such a vast craft. There is no need for a Sith ruse. If the vessel were to evacuate to the Outer Rim it could be hidden in the vast cosmos until it is prepared and outfitted for service with the Alliance.”

 

”The Umbarans have no claim to the craft.” He continued looking across the group as he ran a hand through the waist-high grain, his voice trailing off as he concluded that the Umbaran government had formally denied any knowledge of or claim to a vessel that was outside their territorial space.

 

He shook his head. Regardless, ”if their statements are true or false is of little consequence; we should act with all due care to not injure those working on the craft.”

 

”We move in quietly,” he placed a hand on the pauldron of the nearest clone, “under no banner or color using a ship seized from the opportunistic warmongers and unauthorized scrappers at Nar Shaddaa. We seize the craft from the pirates or degenerates that are outfitting it for war.  A prize for the Alliance and one that will serve honorably to protect the galaxy.”

[Vangar]

Vangar scowled as the newfound acting director of Imperial Intelligence @Qessax Jal Todda seemed to bristle at the discussion of how to go about securing the vessel. He hoped it was not a sign of things to come. He knew little of the Kaleesh culture, but sensed something beyond a mere personality difference between the director and leader of the Imperium’s force-using order.

 

”Indeed.”

 

”There is no reason to allow the Umbarans a chance to change their mind with a show of force. It is not theirs, by all

matters of law, the craft, a weapon of war, is in the hands of potential enemies of the Alliance.”

 

He watched as the Kaleesh stalked off towards his quarters and shook his head. Turning to @Raphanel  and @Tilt07he solemnly spoke. “I would agree with our comrade. The more political entanglement we can avoid the better and if a bit of sneaking can save the lives of slaves, mislead, and anyone else aboard, we owe it to them to try it. The Umbarans are a natural ally to any Sith who may be in hiding even if their government openly endorses the Alliance. This warship may very well be the machinations of a rogue Sith Lord seeking to take advantage of the state of things.” Looking to Tilt he asked, “How many men can your ship carry?  While a small strike team is ideal for not being caught, I would be more comfortable knowing we have at least a few legate cards in our sleeve if our hand is called.”

 

[Vangar]

As the clones made their way to discuss specifics with @Qessax Jal Todda, Vangar Longfang offered a brief salute before turning to @Raphanel, “A pilot, 2 gunners, and 8 passengers. The clones under @Tilt07’s command, Director Jal Todda and 2 of his men, you and I each with a selected associate should fill the crew. I have a member of the Wing Guard in mind who has extreme technical skill that should be able to help us make sure out goals are completed. I look forward to seeing the legends of the Imperial Knights in action. It is very rare to see your work as far out as Bespin.”

 

Looking out across the field, Vangar smiled as the clones exited. There was nobody else around. Turning his focus back to the master of the Imperial order of force users he offered a slight bow. “My apologizes master Knight for any offense. This mission is of utmost importance to the Alliance. That ship will be a great asset to the defense of our allied worlds. Fleets of such craft once held entire systems hostage. Imagine whet we could

do to protect the good people of the galaxy? Starting with the slaves aboard that craft. They must be a priority. Can I trust that you can get them to safety? We won’t be able to get them out in the shuttle so we will have to assuage their fears and keep them aboard or get them to safety by some other means found locally.”  

 

Reaching into a satchel at his waist, Vangar withdrew a boxy device. His clawed hand was barely able to grasp the boxy contraption. Cradling it between his clawed hands he offered it to Raphanel. “This is something my engineers have developed. The attached remote can be used to scan slaves for explosive transmitters. If one is located, it will begin to scan for the appropriate frequency to jam that transmitters signal. Normally this can be used for individualized or small amounts of slaves. In our case, I believe you could supercharge the thing, or so I am told. It should be able to short out the transmitters at least for a standard day or so.”

“Although,” he began as an afterthought, “the thing will pretty much melt apparently.”

 

Pushing the device into the Knight Master’s hands, Vangar offered a smile. “Lets adjourn to prepare. I am sure leaders of the free government should not be recognized on such an operation. Undoubtedly our people would object to our going out into the field. If exposed, our combined presence, will lend a level of legitimacy to our operation.”

 

Walking from the field, Vangar returned to his quarters. Opening a large crate he noted the padded interior that cradled each piece of his powered armor. Digging out his shoulder pauldrons and an abrasive pad he began to scrub the symbol of Bespin’s elite Wing Guard from one and the Imperial Anoat Sector from the other. Given the current state of things they would need replaced; but for now, they simply needed removed sk as to render the armor identical to one of a million others. Taking the abrasive pad to the remaining pieces of armor, Vangar etched them to a steely shine. 
 

Once that was done, Vangar replaced each item into their respected crates, stacking them with a crate of weapons, save for the blaster on his hip and pair of songsteel blades at his back. Donning his armorweave undersuit, Vangar pulled a heavy brown tunic over the top and a mismatched set of gray boots over his feet. Stacking the crates on a gravsled he set out for the landing area of the base.