A Life at War: Twilight Chapter 135: Imperial Center

I glance over at R4, her new paintjob an almost depressing mat black with gold and red trimmings. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised, the Empire had standardized so much already. From the uniforms of local militias and planetary defense forces not already under the Empire’s direct control, to various administrations, all had been forcefully standardized. I let out a sigh as R4 warbles so comfort about not particularly minding her new paintjob as long as she doesn’t have to go to Fondor anyti with it on.

It at least gets to chuckle a bit as the shuttle lands on one of Coruscant’s many, many, landing pads. The ramp descends as a fully outfitted Chain and Dudd march out at the head of my squad of Navy arms-n. I glance around and put on a smile as I see an old Admiral.

“Jerjerrod!” I bark in greeting, “How are you you old gator?”

“Fine, Dericote.” The elder officer replies, “I’m doing just fine.”

We exchange a quick handshake before I wave Chain and half the squad along, the rest would set up a guard rotation for the shuttle until I left in a couple days. For so reason I was having trouble trusting anyone other than my own n to do security work for .

“So, how’re things in the capitol?” I ask.

“As if you don’t already know.” The man grumbles, “There’s been so crackdowns on … Separatist sympathizers. A couple accidents happened to well known Senators, Senator Amidala among them-”

“Heard about her, pity she died like that.” I interrupt.

“Yes, tragic.” Jerjerrod agrees before continuing as we enter the speeder, the man giving the driver a quick gesture to speed us along to the Operations Headquarters, “But as I was saying, things are a tad turbulent. Doesn’t help that most of the suspected Separatist civies are being shunted into the lower levels.”

“Do you have a demographic list of the alleged Sepies?” I ask.

“No, but I can arrange for you to get one sooner than later.” Jerjerrod replies easily.

“Any of ours suffer so bad accidents?” I ask.

“Not sure, Admiral Lipsoc died in action shortly after the Proclamation of the New Order, but his file has been sealed. Old Admiral Santul died a couple weeks ago.” Jerjerrod answers.

“Lispoc always lead from the front and was aggressive.” I point out.

“And Santul was ancient, especially for a Duro.” Jerjerrod agrees.

“I can see what you an.” I admit. It was almost impossible to tell if the two older officers had kicked it from the slow and thodical purge that seed to be creeping through the Army and Navy or if the Maker had simply called for them to join the dead.

“On the bright side, we haven’t lost anyone since.” Jerjerrod replies, “And this eting ought to establish our defenses politically.”

“This eting, any clue what will be discussed?” I prod.

“Fleet Admiral Honor is being unusually tight-lipped about it.”Jerjerrod complains mildly, “All she’s let slip to the senior mbers on Coruscant is that it’ll be on which projects should be supported or if any new projects should be implented. Working on doctrine essentially, that should give us enough of a party line to make any attack on us a lot harder.”

“And these projects?” I ask.

“Chaincodes, the various Nutcracker prototypes in developnt that have been shafted after so many Separatist fortresses surrendered, the TIE fighter projects, War-Mantel and the Dark Trooper project that just got greenlit for developnt.” Jerjerrod answers.

“Who in their right mind nad the Dark Trooper project? Was it so angsty teen?” I ask teasingly.

“Don’t ask. I don’t even know who in R&D decided that was an appropriate na.” Jerjerrod sighs as the shuttle lands on the roof landing platform of the Operations Headquarters.

It’s a relatively short walk through the various hallways of the Headquarters. Less people about, almost none appear to be in any sort of hurry. Looks like the war really is over in the Core, I muse. Weird. I was still dealing with a low intensity occupation and the Sy Myrthians on my boarder, yet here it was as if not a single turbolaser had been fired since the Emperor declared the war over.

“Is it always this calm now?” I ask.

“No. Though there were a few hectic days when the first ISB Agent was stationed to observe us three weeks ago.” Jerjerrod replies before gesturing to one of the doors, “This will be us.”

The doors slide aside to reveal a smaller conference room. I recognize almost everyone inside, though there are so glaring absences. Bush and Hornblower, the two had recently been promoted to the admiralty, were quietly discussing sothing, Zsinj was apparently teasing Honor, Gentis was quietly talking with an Army Major General I didn’t recognize while a starry eyed Colonel was absorbing their conversation like a dry sponge.

A couple heads turn towards us as the doors closes behind . I give a quick nod to the room before finding myself a seat beside Jerjerrod and Rear Admiral Gerra who I exchange a quick handshake with. The Arkanian had co a long way after his n had been pulled from the seemingly eternal siege at Mimban.

Fleet Admiral Honor gets our attention with a simple clearing of her throat: “Gentlebeings. We’ve gathered here today to review and decide which of the various projects currently in the works we are willing to support.”

A series of datapads are passed out and I begin reading. TIE fighters, an apparent upgrade from the V-Wings that seed so popular within the Core after Coruscant. The Neural link, for better pilot and strikecraft interfacing. War-Mantel, a volunteer program for the eventual Clone Trooper replacents, currently dubbed TK Stormtroopers, that na made feel off. The various Nutcracker projects and the developnt of the platform to use them, working na Onager. The Dark Trooper exoskeleton and droid platforms, spearheaded by General Mohc. I could see the potential in that now, maybe not as the end all be all that the General was proposing, but as shock troopers? Boarders? That had potential. And finally Project Intercept, a new series of interdictor capable ships. I liked the sound of that, the last developnts from Corellia had been promising. I had wondered before if I would be able to do sothing creative with an interdictor or two, but I never really had any spare interdiction mines to try it in battle.

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“So,” Fleet Admiral says, “Any input?”

“I know you’re … favorable to the TIE fighter program ma’am.” Rear Admiral Gerra begins, “But … I fear for our pilots safety. So far, every ship we’ve fielded, has had shields, even if they’re rather weak. I do not like the idea of risking our skilled pilots on such a … risky platform of strikecraft.”

“We’re agreed in that.” I add, “I’m more interested in the specs I’ve seen for the R-22 Spearhead. I certainly won’t be replacing my Headhunters, Y-Wings and Starchasers with any TIE.”

The Fleet Admiral in charge grits her teeth: “Did none of you learn the lessons of Coruscant?”

“Ma’am, all due respect, but you can hardly compare Coruscant, where a motley mix of militia and inexperienced pilots fought off a sudden and unexpected Separatist assault to the various veteran fighter formations we often have under our commands in the Rims.” Rear Admiral Hornblower says.

“We cannot in good conscience disavow the Fleet Admiral’s experience.” General Gentis says.

“I don’t think any of us are doing anything of the sort.” I placate, “I simply do not believe we should risk our pilots with unshielded fighters. Show a shielded TIE that outperforms its contemporaries and I will send in a requisition form as soon as practical.”

“We should shelve this.” The Zsinj in the room decides, “What about Nutcracker and her Onagers?”

“Sure could’ve been useful in the early days of the war. Skako wouldn’t’ve lasted a week let alone two years.” The Major General smirks.

“But do we really need sothing like that now?” Jerjerrod asks, “Most fortresses are being dismantled and hardly any worlds are as well fortified as Skako was.”

“And a ship like that would warrant an escort large enough to destroy or disable all but the most hardy of planetary defenses by their loneso.” Rear Admiral Gerra adds, “It seems … superfluous right now to put so many resources into such a project while we’re already producing so many heavy turbolaser en mass fielding battleships.”

“Alright, then what about the Tarkin’s pet project?” I throw into the room, “In all honesty, unless we want to keep paying the Kaminoans out the nose, we’ll need replacents for the Clones sooner rather than later.”

“War-Mantel does seem rather promising in that regard, especially since the Clones have repeatedly outperford our Volunteer and Garrison forces.” Gentis agrees, though he doesn’t look happy about it.

“Do we really need replacents for the Clones? Certainly enough of the Volunteer and Garrison forces will be kept on to maintain order and it isn’t like we’ve another war to fight in the next dozen or so years.” The Colonel asks.

“And how elite are those Volunteers and Garrison forces really?” The Major General asks rhetorically, “Better to have a platoon of Clones than a company of Volunteers in all but a few circumstances. No, I think War-Mantel isn’t a half bad idea.”

“We could always play hardball with Tarkin.” I suggest, “Make him pay for every inch he gets out of us with blood. Let him think he’s slowly winning us over and then fully support him once we’ve wrung out his patience.”

“How long would you think that’ll take?” Zsinj asks.

“Two months at most.” I answer, “He gets … anxious when sothing doesn’t go to plan.”

“More like paranoid.” Hornblower says.

“Very good. Then what of the Neural link?” Honor throws into the room.

“Feels too much like sothing Wat Tambor would whip up in is private workshop.” Zsinj starts us off.

I shiver at the thought. So briefings made curse my position more than others: “On that we are agreed.”

“Looking a tad green there Dericote, shouldn’t you be all for this?” Gerra asks.

“Just because I have a cybernetic does not make overly eager to let soone shove a tal spike into my brain.” I reply quickly.

“So a no on the Neural Implant?” Jerjerrod asks into the room.

“Seems appropriate. Besides how much more does a brain need to be ssed around with?” Zsinj says.

“Very good.” Honor decides, “Then the next project up for debate would be the Dark Trooper program.”

“I don’t hate it.” Zsinj starts us out.

“However for every exoskeleton we could make two to three droids in the sa weight class.” Jerjerrod counters.

“The Blaze Troopers did rather well when deployed.” Gerra throws out.

“Though their weapons load-out left sothing to be desired.” Gentis counters.

“Which could be improved upon with the new program.” I counter right back.

“And didn’t Mohc want droids as well as his exoskeleton soldiers?” Zsinj asks.

“Aren’t battle droids illegal now?” I ask.

“Battle droids, yes. Security droids? No.” Jerjerrod answers easily.

“Lovely cop-out we have there.” I mutter.

“What would we even use exoskeleton troopers for nowadays? The only real Separatist threats are the southern warlords between the Corellian Trade Spine and the Rimma.” Zsinj says.

“And in the north.” Gentis says.

“Don’t forget the lesser worlds in my command.” I remind.

“And the Trade Federation mutineers we keep catching.” Gerra adds, “I heard that the forr Customs Vizier Vooro is being pushed north while that rival of yours, Dericote, has been seen marauding around the central Perlimian.”

“Vice Admiral Hatha’s still alive?” I wonder aloud. I should really not be this surprised, but I figured he would have gone down with the ship of the Trade Federation when it surrendered.

“Last I heard.” Cos the reply.

“Back to the topic at hand.” Honor demands.

“Well they could certainly do good work as front line boarders.” I suggest, “Better to catch as many of the remaining enemy officers for trial as possible and what better way of ensuring that then a boarding action?”

“I can see the rit in that.” Zsinj admits.

“They could also do good work as supplentary shock troops.” Gentis admits.

“That is if the project bears fruit.” Hornblower cautions.

“Which it certainly will, if we support and guide it.” I reply.

“Then we are decided?” Honor asks.

“It certainly appears so.” Jerjerrod sighs.

“Then we co to the final project, Project Interception.” Honor says.

“Please, let us get one of ours in charge.” I beg, “I’ve been wanting to play around with a handful of Interdictors for ages. Just imagine what I could do with them! I could force enemy ships into the middle of a minefield or a teor shower. Deploying reserves from outside of system perfectly without any delays. I bet I could even manage to throw a ship into a star!”

The room is quiet for a mont before Gerra speaks up: “While I do also support the idea of a modern interdiction cruiser, maybe we should keep them away from Fleet Admiral Dericote?”

“What?” I squawk.

“Well I certainly want a couple myself if they ever go into production. Would make smuggling a lot harder.” Honor says.

“Can I maybe request I get a prototype into my territory for testing at least?” I request more timidly.

“I’ll see what can be arranged.” Honor placates.

“Well, other than Dericote’s slip into mania, is there anything else to discuss?” Jerjerrod asks.

“Not to my knowledge.” Gentis says.

“Very good. Then I shall adjourn this eting.” Honor decides, “Before sothing else of note happens.”

I finish my pacing as the Vizier’s Aide motions forward. I quickly double check my dress uniform, everything was where it was ant to be. I quickly adjust my officer’s cap before marching out from behind the sectioned off staging area. I continue through into the passage made by the Coruscanti Shock Troopers to separate the crowd, Glory to the Navy playing on repeat as fighters soar above in a parade. While before there had been columns of V-Wings, with the occasional ARC-170, Headhunter or Y-Wing flight, I had the distinct pleasure of six flights of Starchasers flying overhead as I begin my march through the crowd, my footsteps easily matching to the beat like training of old.

I glance onto the stage, dozens of other officers already standing at attention, a brand spanking new Imperial class battleship and two flanking Venators in atmosphere, hovering in place, just to make the plaza look even more impressive for the crowd. I suppress my increasing urge to roll my eyes at the display, this was ridiculous.

I eventually climb up the steps to the top of the podium where I easily slot myself in with the other officers. Soon enough the last officer, a Starfighter Corps Senior Major with a an looking artificial eye joins the row of soldiers, sailors, technicians and other various officers of the GAR. A Senator, though not one I recognize, approaches the podium and begins to speak.

Maker on high, do the especially boring Senators get first dibs on making speeches for awards ceremonies? Maybe the Senate takes pity on them and gives them an audience that guarantees their security through the abundance of military personnel. That way if the audience decides to end the speech giver’s ability to speak at all soone can stop them. I frown slightly, maybe instead this was a way to get rid of such boring orators? Surround them by veterans too tired to deal with such lizardshit and have one of them go berserk.

I’m brought out of my fantasies of assassination as Mas Adda begins handing out dals and extolling various deeds and virtues of those he was awarding. Various Silver and Gold Crescents, Hero’s Crosses, dallions of Honor and local awards being pinned below each and every officer’s rank plaque. Finally the Chalactan approaches , taking the first award from an Aide and speaking once more.

“Now presenting the Silver Crescent to Fleet Admiral Dericote, for his supre administrative faculties when placed under duress.” The Grand Vizier begins, pinning the silver crescent by its silver and black thread ribbon to my chest beside the Dac rit, “Next, presenting the Star of Coruscant Combat dal, for your leadership during Operation Vengeance and the seizure of the Raxus System and the Separatist legislature.”

“Thank you, sir.” I begin, though the Grand Vizier raises a hand, stopping from continuing with the traditional ending of the rit awarding.

“Furthermore, the World of Fondor has decided to award you the Mudpuppy’s Hide for your excellent service in keeping your world’s people in care and her interests alive.” The Grand Vizier says before pinning a dal, depicting a mudpuppy snarling and about to pounce, onto my chest. He gives a small gesture giving the go ahead.

“Thank you, sir.” I say again, snapping a salute and shaking the Vizier’s hand as I do so.

“You honor us with your service.” He replies stoically before moving onto the next officer. The ceremony continues for a while longer before we head into the actually fun part of the celebrations.