Theocracy of the Unwilling

Chapter 5

"I hope your new office is...comfortable, Stanson," Ronovi said, grinning as the turbolift dipped below the waves of the Sea of Darkness on Yridia II. She watched as Stanson Rend stared through the portal as the smokiness of the waters flooded the view and eclipsed the two passengers in deep, heavy shadows.

"Comfortable enough," he replied, his voice low and silky.

Stanson stroked his gray beard as the doors of the turbolift parted and he saw a transport awaiting him in the castle hangar. He walked beside the Consul now, hands folded behind his back as his designer shoes clicked on the steel floors. Ronovi stopped a few feet from the shuttle, turning to face her new partner-in-crime. He gazed straight back at her, no ice in his eyes, no strain in his smile.

"You will begin your work as Ethnarc tomorrow morning," she informed him, cracking the knuckles on her right hand. "Convene with the Common House at 1100 sharp. I won't be there, but twenty-one fine men will be looking back at you. All appointed by your preference."

Stanson chuckled. "Good to know they'll comply with my demands easily."

"Your first order of business will be to appoint three new Governors for our colonized planets," Ronovi continued. "I have some recommendations of my own to give you. We have many veterans of Tarentum who would be more than happy to serve the new Kratocracy. Keep that in mind."

"Of course."

"There's one other thing I want you to remember, Stanson." She let her breath waver in her air as she spoke the words. "As Ethnarc, you have free rule over the civilian population. You are leader of the Yridians, their beacon of hope in such hard times. As long as you do nothing out of order with my desires, you'll have your little sandbox to play in."

"Ronovi," Stanson muttered, his voice lifting in a cheery, teasing lilt. "Do I look stupid enough to push your buttons?"

Ronovi smirked and shrugged. Stanson was right - he was in a very good place right now and he was not a man who gave in to power struggles. He knew when he had the better deal, and he knew how to keep it. Now as the doors to the shuttle slid open and the pilot beckoned for Stanson to get onboard, Ronovi extended a browned hand for him to shake.

"I expect great things from you, Ethnarc," she whispered. "Once our little recon mission in the Gesaril system wraps up, we can start setting our sights on bigger treasures. In the meantime, keep reminding the people why they love you so much. Maybe tell them how wonderful it is to be Yridian. That always works."

"I'll remember that," Stanson said, and he disappeared into the transport, the steel doors enveloping his noble silhouette as his superior watched him disappear into the deep fabrics of the Yridian ocean.

***

Eden had always retained an excited energy, but tonight was particularly electric. The Mirage especially was busy, its two bars crowded with more rambunctious citizens than the normal mobs. The smell of spice and alcohol was pungent as ice rattled in tankards and cocktail glasses clinked together in frequently spontaneous toasts to the King and the glorious night. Next door, meat and seafood were sizzling in the kitchen, as hungry customers happily awaited to gorge upon a feast as if it were their last meal.

Dralin, proprietor of the Mirage and under his usual alias 'Kaiman Sal,' sat at his reserved booth by the hidden exit. He polished off his Sullustan gin and straightened the collar of his jacket as he surveyed the young women staggering by in short skirts and spilling lum on the floors. Dralin wrinkled his nose; he'd get a janitor to clean up the mess later. He heard someone clear his throat beside him and raised his head to see two figures standing over him, sipping from glasses. Dralin smirked at the sight of the newer Tarenti wandering about the city, and he leaned back against the cushions of the booth.

"Aren't you two supposed to be back on Joran?" he asked pleasantly, beckoning for them to sit down.

Carter quietly took his seat as Coop Ter'An chuckled and savored a mouthful of his drink. "Donos said this was a great spot. So we thought we'd pay you a visit, 'Kaiman.'"

"Good. You know the drill." Dralin snapped his fingers and a voluptuous waitress traipsed by with a tray. "Refill on the gin, please. But back to you guys. Why are you really here?"

"Pirate business," the Nautolan replied, grinning. "Scion wants us to check out the market they have on ships. If we want to be incognito on our missions, we need to make sure we fly without basically going, 'Hey! Look at us! We're big, bad Dark Jedi! Fear us!'"

"I see," Dralin murmured. "So I'm guessing you guys have been downtown?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So you've seen the...new decorations, so to speak," said Dralin, pointing a finger at a window on the other side of the room.

Carter and Coop were up in a flash to look, which highly amused Dralin. Curiosity always got the better of the newer members, though he didn't blame them. Especially when outside was looking more like a dystopia by the minute.

Hanging from the adjacent building was a large banner, descending across the sleek steel of the office's exterior in its intimidating size. The ebony folds rustled in the thin generated breeze, the golden embroidery glistening in the dim lighting of the metropolitan twilight. But most impressive was the finely detailed dragon sewn into the fabric, accentuated by the embellished trefoil behind its tailored silhouette. Along the edges of the banner were bright golden words in Basic, screaming in the night:

"The King is Yridia! Yridia is King!"

Dralin calmly observed Coop and Carter as they solemnly returned to the booth. What they must have known already was that those banners were everywhere now. The symbol of Lord Khyron was becoming more and more prominent not only on Yridia IX, but also on Yridia II and even Yridia IV. If the people were not willing to acknowledge the Sith King, then they would be forced to think of him each time they got up in the morning. Not that several people weren't already revering this enigmatic ruler in their own ways. Apparently he had fan clubs now.

Watching the shadows fall upon the two young Dark Jedi's faces, Dralin smiled and raised his glass, letting the ceiling lamps shine upon the gin brimming from the lip.

"To the new order," he said, sipping and succumbing to a rarely experienced reverie.

***

"Some data we got," grumbled Welshman from the bridge of the Magnus Kaerner. Archean, Commander of the Air Guard, felt his eyes crinkle in an amused smile as he sensed the former Consul's exasperation.

According to the holographic data on the screens of the ship's control panel, the information the navy had used when deploying fleets to the Gesaril system was outdated. Scouts had returned from the planet Gesaril claiming that the prison colony was desolate, most likely having not been utilized for several years. No prisoners were to be found, so there was no hope for slaves. Not much else could be salvaged.

Still, if Welshman was annoyed, then the Fleet Admiral would be in a worse mood. Archean turned on his heel just as the intimidating height of the Sith Master filled the entrance to the bridge.

"Bloodfyre," the Tarenti greeted as the Shaevalian quietly yet feverishly stepped to the panel. He drummed his fingers upon the metal of the controls and set his dark eyes upon Adien.

"Change of plans," he ordered in a clear, concise manner. "I've spoken with the commanders of the other ships and we've agreed that we've already wasted enough time and fuel in this system. The fleets will be splitting up and dividing their efforts in other systems, under my orders."

"Any systems of particular interest?" asked Welshman as Captain Adien Falaut set the MK for hyperdrive.

"Several, in fact, with more updated information than what our archives provided for Gesaril," Bloodfyre said. "Personally, I don't blame the librarians we have, as Gesaril hasn't held much relevance over the years...but I do hope the Prince can put them in their place for this terrible lag in our schedule."

"Where to, then?"

"Key in these coordinates," Bloodfyre told Adien, pointing a finger at one of the screens. "Other ships such as the Requiem and the Cocytus will be heading off to adjacent regions. I've entrusted Ji to go out on her own with the Doomsday, to an uncharted system. Shows promise."

"You got it, Admiral," Adien replied, grinning as Archean rolled his eyes and the majestic Star Destroyer launched into the web of cosmos before them.

***

Morrissey Kritt could feel the blood pounding in his ears, the panicked state that he worked himself into over the past few hours having slowly subsided once he realized that he was not, in fact, dead in the cold vacuum of space. If he strained his ears, he could hear the background hum of a ship, at least of Corvette-size, passing through the realm of hyperspace. It stood to reason, then, that someone had rescued him.

Kritt froze, holding his breath. A faint shuffling sound, accompanied by a heavier boot clomping down onto the metal deck of the ship, was barely audible over the hum of the ship's engines, but gradually grew louder. The former governor could hear a muffled female voice explaining something in placating tones, followed by a harsher male voice grumbling something guttural.

With a jarring bang, something struck the crate, jostling Kritt painfully. Then, with a groan from the box, the lid slowly opened, filling Kritt's lungs with cleaner air. Before he had time to take a breath, however, a clawed hand gripped his collar, lifting him up and into the air.

"Y-Yuuzhan Vong!" Morrissey stammered, his eyes bugging out of his head like balloons explosively buoying themselves out of water.

"Quiet, governor," murmured a voice off to Kritt's left, cutting through his renewed panic like a knife. Turning his head sharply, he saw that the owner of the voice was very pale, with long white hair and flowing silver robes. She looked Kritt up and down. "Vok, put him down. I can't have you damaging valuable people like Mr. Kritt."

With a loud thud, Morrissey was dropped on the ground. Taking in great gulps for breaths, he tried to get a bearing on his surroundings. The ship appeared normal, with the exception of the Yuuzhan Vong, but something on the crate in which Kritt formerly called home caught his eye - a homing beckon, slapped to the side.

"Yes, your allies among the Yridian people have coordinated with us in an attempt to save you," the woman said with a satisfied smile. Kritt slowly got back on his feet, taking his cue from the calm woman. Nodding reassuringly, she continued. "I'm Nilani, and you will find that we have a lot in common, Mr. Kritt. We're coming out of hyperspeed any minute now, and you'll get to meet the good people behind our operation here..."

Blinking, Kritt's mind began sputtering back to life. While he was a cowardly man, nobody became a governor of Yridia through stupidity. Allies among the Yridians? People behind our operation?

"And who are these people, Nilani?" Gathering his wits about himself, Kritt had begun his own shrewd analysis of his situation. "They're obviously well-funded, possibly the head of a system. If they have an interest in rescuing me, then they have something against our dark Jedi oppressors..."

"Excellent deduction, Mr. Kritt," Nilani replied with a knowing smile. "While Pergitor does have a habit of staying out of the way, the Church of Infinite Perception has been keeping on eye on your... unnatural leadership for some time. And with our friends here," she added, with a nod toward the Vong warrior, "we will have a true chance against them.

His eyes growing wider, Kritt felt himself smile for the first time since first being called 'governor.' "Nilani, I do believe your faith in my rescue was well-founded. I just happen to have information on the whereabouts of Tarentum's fleet. If your... our benefactors are as well-armed as this ship suggests... The time to strike will be sooner than you may have expected."

Ah yes, another section of my report where I act as Ronovi's proxy in yelling at everyone. :P

Essentially, it would be in everybody's best interests to read these fiction updates. They are setting everything up for our uber-cool Clan-wide run on that everybody should participate in when we get that ball rolling, and this is all backstory required for understanding most of it.

There are starving children in Africa who would love to be able to read this stuff. Just sayin'.