Walker Audenhoen stood before the massive array of convex transparisteel lost in his thoughts despite the towering monads and layered traffic of the view outside. Everyone else seemingly lost in the bustle of their own lives and importance despite the gravity of what was at work within their own Empire. Each individual so impeccably dressed in the garish acceptance of Coruscanti fashion, hands folded neatly upon their laps as they sit idly by, ferried around from important meeting to important meeting by the displaced of the outer rim territories, those desperate enough to make the trek to the Galactic Capital despite what was waiting for them. Misery, mockery, and the lowest forms of employment the Coruscanti privileged found far enough beneath them, welcomed any and all willing to accept. He clasped his hands behind his back, his mind as far removed from the activity outside as was possible. Each light only representing a point of interest he could pin a thought to, every passing taxi or luxury speeder presenting a singular thought that could tie points together.
A single mission screaming out as the hallmark of Imperial strategy was unfolding light years removed from Audenhoen’s view, initiated prior to his delegation, but his responsibility, nonetheless. ‘Why anyone would have thought the man appropriate to the task is beyond me.’ Walker thought to himself, authoring the idea through internal debate with the knowledge that his predecessor was precisely the one to blame, should it get to that point. ‘You old fool.’ He told himself, letting the scenario transpire through his own thoughts in the manner he would have presented it to the Mandalorian delegation, a Ms. Bo Katan Kryze specifically, only in retrospect to Coburn’s decision to send the least likely negotiator within ISB’s stables, a man who was long past due to check in with his superior.
His thoughts continued to swirl as they fixated beyond what was transpiring upon Mandalore, pinpoints of seemingly random events that he knew were anything but. He could stop one particular trail of thought as it lead directly to Areti Sigurn. Had she been able to find the truth his own Empire was keeping from them both? The question nagged him every moment he gave thought to it, nuances within the cerebral exercise working through their own paths of logic. He knew where she was. He knew who she was with. Both points of interest filed away for his purview alone, as far removed from Imperial scrutiny as he could get them. He had worked his own manipulations to a satisfying crescendo, instituting a hands-off policy that would keep Lothal free of Imperial intervention without any unwanted incriminating or damnable claim. The only man that could have seen through the ruse, dead by Lord Vaders blade.
Ambria still presented a mystery that seemingly had no conclusion, a story with its remaining chapter lost to eternity, visions of the impossible, and the tragic lament of those lost without reason. Vader hadn’t uttered a word as he stepped into the shuttle’s bowels upon Audenhoen’s return, only forced himself to stand behind the pilot’s seat, the sonorous breath his only companion. ‘What the hell did happen down there?’ Walker thought to himself, yet again, continually lost to the inexplicable that only resided in children’s fables and folk legend or myth. A catastrophic loss of life paid for absolutely no return whatsoever, authored by a Captain that was anything but a dullard. ‘Sylde.’ The name snaked through his spine like an invasive serpent in search of food, its scales ice cold as it weaved between vertebrae. “Pompous?” Walker spoke the thought, the first word that materialized, “arrogant to a fault.” He continued as he processed his own description, again finding nonsensical reason for involvement. Nothing about Ambria made sense be it strategic or personal vendetta.
And, now, Mandalore. Why the High Council deemed it priority to intercede only now made no strategic sense whatsoever. ‘It would have been wiser to impose necessary force when the families and clans were scattered, discordant.’ He thought as he repressed his knowledge of Lothal, of Areti, the weight of the current initiative enough so as to drive his thoughts directly toward the dangerous machinations that had the potential to repeat the travesties of the battle station.
“Director.” The comm buzzed his attention away from the chaotic motion through the transparisteel, “Inspector General Jeru Gideon awaits as ordered.”
‘Fifteen minutes ago…’ Audenhoen thought as he grappled with his wrist behind his back, a tight flex that he released immediately, but sustained long enough to deliver the sharp burst of pain that guided his frustration down paths less confrontational. “Patch him through.” Audenhoen ordered the adjutant on the other end of the comm, an adjutant that came with the position he reminded himself, not one that he would have chosen personally. Walker waited with his back to his desk as the whirs and chirps of the inset holo device delivered a contrasting blue tone to his peripheral vision.
“Director.” The voice was direct but felt tainted, to Walkers ears, with a vile disdain for the office and a contempt for procedure.
“Inspector General.” Audenhoen began as he finally turned, leaving behind the blurring view of Coruscant and staring directly into the dark eyes of his subordinate. Close cropped hair framed the ebony shade of the man’s skin as he stood at attention within the holo image, each feature visible through the blue hue of the device falling strictly within Imperial protocol and standard alike. Not one facial hair was out of place, his eyes unblinking and lips pulled tight in the most severe adherence to Imperial codes of attention. Everything visible to Walker Audenhoen within the image contrasting in harsh defiance with the tone the man had initially taken. “What have you then?” His own tone was brisk but moderate.
“Pursuant to your predecessor’s initiative, these people cannot be negotiated with Director. In my estimation, there is only one course of action that should be taken...despite Director Coburn’s insistence that an accord could be achieved without resorting to military action.” Inspector General Jeru Gideon spoke eloquently, yet Walker could not sense which way the man would lean through personal agenda.
“You are only there to gauge viability Gideon, and to that agenda I do emphatically trust your judgement. We cannot risk military involvement at the moment but to prevent clan unification we will have no choice.” Audenhoen continued, understanding the implied dangers of a unified Mandalore.
“And it is to that particular endeavor that I refer Director. Several clans are open to treatise of a nonpolarized sort, demanding far more in securities than I am certain any element within our Empire would deem appropriate.” Gideon replied, again spoken through a non-threating eloquence that Walker couldn’t place.
Audenhoen understood the message immediately, “so, they are stalling.” He said, addressing the room around him with a finger raised to his chin.
“That is precisely what I had determined as well.” Gideon replied, his tone more restful as the conversation found them both in some agreement. “Clan Kryze is leading that particular charge.” He added with the briefest of glances away from Audenhoen.
Walker narrowed his eyes slightly in though, skewing his vision to the fineries of his stately office. “Then we are beyond stalling tactics Jeru, they are already beginning to unite.”
The Inspector General’s face broadened beyond regulation with a slight creased smile appearing at the edges of his lips. “By your own admission, Director, unification is something we cannot afford.”
Walker Audenhoen noted the change in tone, yet again, to something more sinister. His Inspector General finally letting a certain degree of his intentions seep through the solid exterior of presentation. “Suggestions, then.” He would let the man have his say.
Gideon’s eyes flared but for a moment, “increase our presence within the system, offering a placating stance upon them with assistance as they work to organize through unification.” Walker was certain that what he was hearing had already been rehearsed for ears far higher up the scale of rank than his current position and decided to gage his own words going forward with much more scrutiny. Gideon continued, “as we’ve done in the past, present them with title of authority within their own system, governorship if you will, meanwhile garrison our own assets in closer proximity through complacent humanitarian efforts.”
Walker caught the cue, “and if those efforts were to come under direct fire?”
“We’d have no choice but to intercede in response.” Gideon replied quickly, assuring Audenhoen that, yes, he was thinking along the same path.
“Inspector General would not be sufficient title in that event, nor would be any implications that ISB would be initiating said response.” Walker added. The look of surprise actively stretching across Gideon’s ebony features, the whites behind his dark eyes flaring briefly before the man was able to reel the emotion back into his control.
“I wouldn’t expect to be left out of briefings mind you, but the element of oversight necessary would align more directly within the purview of the Imperial Navy, however we would be able to grant you the assets required more immediately through active protocol and directive.” Audenhoen informed his Inspector General, “I will reach out to Grand Admiral Tethys in short order as advocacy on this initiatives behalf will be necessary before addressing the Council.”
“Thank you Director Audenhoen.” Jeru Gideon intoned, Walker noting the emotional elements within the salutation, one of the first instances through the exchange that he felt the Inspector General was genuine.
“You’re welcome. Comprise a list of necessary assets in the interim and we will work to address them straight away.” Audenhoen replied with a gentle nod toward the man within the holo image.
Inspector General Jerubial Gideon bowed low on his end of the transmission, furthering Audenhoen’s internal consensus that the man was most certainly at his disposal should the need arise to call upon him, ‘but is it wise?’ The question seemed to ask itself in the split second that remained before the transmission ended with a chirp, returning the moderately illuminated office to its russet shades and long dark shadows. With a hesitant drop of his finger, he depressed the call button on his comm device. “D’vries, reach out to Grand Admiral Tethys’s adjutant please, Sloane I believe at the moment, and arrange a meeting. I will work around her schedule.”
“Very good Sir. Will there be anything else?” The comm chirped in response.
Audenhoen looked over his shoulder, noting the natural darkness of the hour, “nothing today D’vries, your free for the evening.”
He sat back within the high-backed chair he still didn’t feel deserving of as he snatched a data pad from the corner of his desk. Swiveling the seat back toward the view outside he dropped his gaze to the screen’s blankness, willing his thoughts to make themselves present, some sign from afar that he was making the right choices, making proper alliances, and believing in the correct paths of action. Something without description hovered at the edges of his thoughts as of late, something that felt ominous as time progressed, something that lie at the center of a conglomeration of surprisingly unrelated occurrences and events.
‘Areti would make the connections.’ Walker thought to himself, an instinctual ode to the inclinations of the assistant lost to her own pursuit of truth. He knew, however, that should she find any shred of evidence or proof of the multiple layers of those pursuits that she would find a way to deliver them, one way or another. He missed the connection the two had enjoyed, made paramount by his current position. Her insights would have been a welcome diversion from the monotone procedure issued forth through D’vries’ comments, but he knew now was not the time to lament.
Walker engaged the data pad in his hands and began working through Protocol seventeen to proactively acquire a list of assets he felt prudent to fulfill Gideon’s objectives. As the Fifth fleet was in a manner of disarray following the actions over Ambria, many of its contingent were available in the interim for temporary assignment, at least until Executor was deemed active ready. A consortium of Star Destroyers presented themselves as likely viable, from the Arteiene to the Jessop but aside from a stoic measure of strength they wouldn’t provide the speed he knew Gideon would require. Walker narrowed the list to the consortium’s picket vessels and light cruisers, one modified Arquitens class Five Four Six, stood out. “Valor’s Fury.” Walker said aloud, noting the irregularity of the ship’s name in contrast to the others as he continued reviewing the ship’s upgraded lethality. He didn’t need to look any further as he quickly assigned the ship in a command position of the rostrum he was creating.
✦
Vader sat poised, the extremities that were still his own folded over themselves as he let his rasping breath reach its own synchronicity within the spherical confines of his chamber. He needed the nourishment the sterility of the chamber provided as concentrated on the muscles of his left arm, seared anew as damaged flesh lay peeled and broken from the exchange in his masters’ chambers. The Force had provided a buffer but only one he was strong enough to maintain from the agonizing display of strength the man had enacted. With each breath, Vader was able to remove himself further from the pain, and deeper into the realm of reason he sought.
The parallels remained too glaring to ignore any longer, the path his master had chosen to take, mirroring the conflict he had fought through so many years ago, was one only he could tread. There was no room for an apprentice despite immortality the reward. There was no need for a Master if he attained the only goal Vader could imagine. Distractions through the lives and deaths of the galactic whole meant nothing, as they shouldn’t Vader digressed, through the reach of the Dark Side, but not at the cost of the Dark Side itself. It required devotion, not dominion, and he was certain his master knew that truth. He blew out a ragged breath as the answer lie within the very air of the confining chamber.
Vader knew the pain shocking through the remnants of his arm would diminish but they, like every other part of him, would forever scream in agony. Just another addition to the torment that he would endure without rest, but it presented a form of discourse that interjected itself into previous thought, knowing that the orchestrations of the Civil War would only resemble the Clone Wars as long as the differences remained out of purview. ‘The man remains the same, what has changed?’ He asked himself again, as he had many times previous, because to the best of his knowledge, nothing had. ‘Then what has?’ He asked himself defiantly, working toward the ever elusive answer that could bring the peace he had sought, albeit through order, his entire life.
Vader returned to his parting comments in the summit reaches of his master’s chambers, noting the unpredictability of his own reference, recited only through the active power of the Dark Side flowing unhindered within. He knew extraordinarily little about Bane, Darth Bane, only that it was his guidance and revival of the order of the Sith that made his own present a possibility. A present encumbered by a master who strove toward diabolical ends to gain authority over the Dark Side itself, molding the order into something that didn’t need definition, because he would live to see whatever he wanted manifest. The Dark Side repelled the notion outright, and Vader felt it. An atrocity to a natural order that would never relent to carry itself along its own path, its natural path.
‘Did Bane pursue the same agenda in his time?’ At least the question felt relevant as Vader gave it birth, ‘if he had, then, he too, should be example enough.’ Example that tampering with a natural order can and will only lead to death itself. But he witnessed the contrary in inexplicable fashion upon the surface of Ambria, the man himself being revered as he was through countless tales and texts ages old as the arbiter of death, the deathless Dragon that could not be defeated. “No.” Vader rasped with severity, the thoughts leading to a singular path that he was remarkably familiar with, “everything must die.”
‘So, what is different.’ Vader forced the thought back into circulation for fear of reengaging the vicious circle of his present narrative. ‘The son of Skywalker….lives.’ The answer had been there, even Tano had acknowledged it. Tano. Both elements defined the difference as he proceeded with a renewed understanding beyond his master’s will. She had taken the chance, with limited degree of success, to convey the very message that defined his only agenda on the cursed planet. She had defied her own principles to provide him with unintended hope, one he questioned at the time but came to realize could only be true through the methods at her disposal, she had nothing to either gain or lose. There was no measure of cunning or deceit to merit her actions with anything but simple truth, ‘he lives.’
An encroaching sense that remained inexplicable forced all other thoughts from his meditation as he saw the peaceful waters of the Nubian back country sprawl through his mind’s eye. That was the peace he sought. A peace removed from death but not in lieu of it, a calming presence without the oversight of forceful destruction and inciting lies to fuel its compliance. ‘Yes, order needs maintenance, but peace needs purpose.’ There could be no other way. What is forced will gain the favor of fervent revenge, the galactic rebellion is proof enough of that, he considered as his thoughts were meritless without the harsh examples complicit in their construction. ‘I will find you, my son. Together we will tear the Emperor from his lofty perch cushioned with the ideals of atrocity and renew our own order for the galactic good.’ Vader pledged with a tenacity equal to the source that made the vow possible, “perhaps…” He voiced, pausing only to allow the pain rocketing through his vocal chords to subside long enough to continue in thought, ‘she has some part to play in that order.’ He concluded internally, thinking of Ahsoka’s admission again, the dialogue that had prompted it more to the point.
‘Our agenda’s, although not the same, are similar. So then what Ahsoka Tano, what is it that fuels your motivations.’ Vader considered for a long moment, pursuing the thoughts conclusion through each inhale and exhale of his damaged lungs. The direction his mind involuntarily took presented the same image he had burned into his memory on Ambria, a triumvirate of localized cohesion that resonated the power of their respective purpose beyond comprehension. The woman with the saber staff was not the woman he was tasked with retrieving, he could sense it then and sense it now. The woman wielding a pink blade of all things was the same Mandalorian that accompanied Tano on Mustafar. Was Tano then growing her own numbers of Force sensitives? If that were the case she had worked quickly on Ambria with Thana, yet that wasn’t her name was it? Nothing about that particular Mirialan was the same as had arrived on the planet, perhaps the same could be said of the Mandalorian. Then there was Rex, loyal friend of Anakin Skywalker. He could sense the man’s heartache even through the distance separating them, one he thought he felt if even briefly before Ahsoka had defiantly severed that particular connection. His mind quickly returning to the Mirialans, he sought answers that seemed nonexistent. He’d done his damndest to stamp out anyone recorded as such for the reasons Ahsoka had deduced in a matter of minutes, but the Mirialans were older than any would be Skywalker offspring could be, “so where then, Master….where did they come from?” Vader spoke slowly, listening to the ricocheting echoes of the broken voice, the only fuel his anger needed to point the finger of blame toward the only one that could keep such information from him.
✦
Walker Audenhoen took his seat adjacent the vacated seat of Military Intelligence Director Ysanne Isard. The woman, herself, in exactly the same seat he had been through the meritory inquest that had ultimately led to his current promotion. He caused a glance toward those exotic eyes, wishing the damn woman were at least pleasant to be around but they were fixated on a position beyond the gentle arc of High Counsil members, Audenhoen following that gaze with a slow turn of his head over his shoulder. In the shadows, well outside of the natural light of the grandiose chamber, he noted the subtle movements of dark robes as they shifted slightly then wondered why HE would be the subject of her attention above all others.
“We will bring these proceedings to order.” Grand Vizier Mas Ameda barked over the clamor echoing through the chamber, a sharp metallic thrum following closely behind the pronouncement as he planted the blunt end of the Speaker’s staff firmly into the polished white stone before his oversized seat centered within the arc of dignitaries. Hundreds of voices hushed upon themselves, their dying echoes merging into a forced silence as uniforms of varying colors found their seats with shuffling and exaggerated grunts. “Pursuant to Imperial directive and protocol’s sixteen and seventeen, we call to order the inquest regarding the loss of Imperial assets, deposed in appropriation assignment within, but not limited to, the Praxius system.” Amedda continued, drawing deep within his chest to consume the chamber with his sonorous baritone.
Audenhoen prepared himself for the graphic visuals that would accompany the preliminary declarations, already tuning out the verbal exchanges that would ensue as the hierarchy inevitably began bickering amongst themselves. He knew of his own detractors within their ranks that had, no doubt, worked out some manufactured narrative focusing the entirety of blame upon the Imperial Security Bureau, it’s fresh new Director in particular, but even common sense could not be completely ignored. The ravaged ‘assets,’ dozens of repurposed and retrofitted Star Destroyers and scores more light and heavy freighters, torn and shredded from stem to stern, had clearly fallen victim to some source unseen before. Audenhoen shuddered involuntarily, the same images shown before the gathered audience now fresh in his memory from the inquests briefing meeting with his own staff prior.
“Director Isard, it is quite well known that your department, although not under your direct guidance at the time, approved the appropriations directive within the Praxius system.” Amedda continued as most eyes were trained on the massive, hovering, still image, delivered via holo projection, of a shorn section of what was the ISD Ravenshol’s command Bridge.
Ysanne Isard removed her gaze from the shadowy form directly behind the Grand Vizier, and to Audenhoen’s inspection, her entire demeanor with it as she focused on the Chagrian with a stoic defiance, her eyes narrowing from the stricken look of forlorn obedience they had conveyed seconds before. “With all due respect Grand Vizier, I am unable to divulge any details at this time, our internal investigations are ongoing.” Her voice was deep, yet almost dismissive as if she treated the topic itself with a disdain Audenhoen couldn’t place.
“We are well past placating measures, divergent missives or outright contempt of protocol Madam Director, simply look above you and ask yourself what this body should do if not ask the questions that need to be asked.” Mas Amedda continued, his own voice gaining a gravelly quality Audenhoen knew well. Walker was torn between shifting his gaze from Isard to the Grand Vizier simply to confirm as much but was drawn to the still image itself despite the certain revulsion and attached memories it invoked. Again, he could see the spire-like teeth of the Dragon as they tore into Tagata Taia, or the massive claws as they shredded duranium plating with catastrophic lethality only to wind up being reported as something manufactured and imagined. The image hovering with purpose above them all was anything but. He didn’t care at all about any intended, or otherwise, misdirection on Isard’s part, only the noted similarities his mind had drawn between Ambria and, what was it? Praxius?
“Pardon the interruption, but where is the Praxius system?” Audenhoen didn’t even care about interruption, or the pleasantries involved with the voiced apology, only the facts as they were, or so he hoped.
“This is highly irregular…” Mas Amedda groaned as he turned to his right, giving credence, and the immediate spotlight, to the newly appointed ISB Director’s query.
Audenhoen only proceeded with his initial question, “my office, having been made only vaguely aware of this incident,” he began offering a hand toward the image, “was unable to gather any information regarding location with any precision, in fact, finding most of what was once readily available information, scrubbed from official records altogether.”
Mas Amedda’s own expression shifted with an inquisitive nod in the Director’s direction, an admission without verbal acquiescence that the inquiry had its own merits.
“That information will be available pending a ‘need to know’ authorization.” Advisor Greejatus intervened, a vitriolic statement that conveyed nothing of substance within the chamber, but oozed with a demeaning sentiment Audenhoen knew was issued forth to everyone by the man.
“Considering our present surroundings, that time is now Advisor.” Audenhoen didn’t snap at the bait, “this is an inquest is it not?” Only now swiveling his head toward the gaunt and sickly man, leaving the image above to the continuous stares of hundreds of others in attendance.
“The system is deep within the Enciern Sector, far removed from the reaches of the Taniss Arm.” Ysanne Isard uttered, seemingly in defiance of protocol but out there in the open just the same.
“Unknown Regions?” Audenhoen shifted his penetrating gaze toward her, her expression without mirth and quite genuine in his opinion. ‘Interesting,’ he thought to himself, noting her willingness to defy the slimy Advisor was at least on par with his own opinions of the man.
“I can provide your office with appropriate coordinates Director, but yes. We are currently deploying new hyper relays to the system as well as the necessary navbouys.” Ysanne continued, impressing Audenhoen with such quickly placed assistance despite his previous knowledge that she would more likely hinder than help at all costs.
“What is the closest Sector?” Audenhoen asked, almost oblivious to his own surroundings, those in attendance in particular.
“Primean.” Isard answered immediately, taking her own cue from Audenhoen’s procedural defiance to answer the question as if in conversation.
“And on top of this,” Audenhoen motioned again toward the massive image, “the hyper relay was taken off line?”
“Destroyed Director.” She replied again with haste.
Audenhoen was silent for a moment as he finally rose from his seat, “but not the hyper relay within the Primean Sector?”
“Correct.”
Audenhoen’s imagination wandered down a separate path entirely as he let the image of the Dragon finally dissolve into the realm of memory, a very real fear taking its place. “Then we have quite a bit more at stake than a simple miscarriage of an appropriations operation.” He stated, raising a hand to his chin. “Will someone please explain to me how a Corellian YT-1760 and a trio of Mandalorian Fang’s emerged in the system, destroyed a flight of TIE Interceptors and obliterated the ISD Ropasci without the aid of any navigational assistance?” He barked the question that should have been asked in the first place, all to the stunned silence of those that only moments before had deemed protocol more important than fact.