Blue on Blue

[Rugs]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Cowritten with Fromikeable Vrael Aetoris slumped in his seat, grimacing at a knot of long-built-up tension between his shoulder blades. A junior communications officer, he’d spent what felt like dozens of hours hunched over his comms panel aboard the Enduring Flame as the battle against the Archeri Chorus raged. Now, with the Singing Spire a chunk of floating crystal ruins and the second one careening back to Nar Shaddaa’s surface, the battle was done. Vrael could only imagine the devastation on the worlds below. The remnants of the Archeri fleet fled, scattering in groups with the few remaining Verses at their head. Yes, the battle was done, but the war would drag on. A concern for later. Vrael, who was just one member of the massive comms crew required to keep the Flame running smoothly — to say nothing of the combined Coalition armada — was as tired as if he’d just run one of the village marathons back home on Thustra. “Hell of a welcome to the Flame, eh kid?” Versita Kalranoos, his superior, leaned against his panel at the end of a row of comms officer seats. “So much for that cushy stay at Coruscant.” If the Duro woman was tired, she allowed no sign of it. “But you did good,” she said, putting a hand to his shoulder as she walked by. “You all did.” Vrael muttered a quiet thanks. As Versita passed, walking to where other officers were gathering near a square viewport, he picked up his datapad. He could only imagine the flood of messages he’d gotten during the fight, but he ignored them for now. Last he knew, his younger brother, Io’an had made his way to the Smuggler’s Moon. It’d been months since they’d talked last, but he knew Io’an was stuck on world when the Archeri siege began. Yo buddy, he wrote, a brief message for an encrypted line Io’an had set up for the two of them, still alive? “What the hell are they doing?!” Vrael looked up at the sudden outburst of shouting. In the distance, he could see red pinpricks of turbolaser fire blasting from a knot of Republic ships to their Imperial counterparts. Wait... he thought as his datapad dropped from his suddenly-lax fingers and clattered on the floor. That shouldn’t be happening Vrael moved on instinct more than active thought as dread gripped him. His fingers danced along his panel, dialing the code to reach Horst Stellar’s command center directly as his colleagues sent frenzied messages to the engaged Republic ships. “General Stellar,” he said, voice shaking, “we... we have a situation.” Horst’s teeth were grinding themselves into a fine dust. His orders were curt and left little room for interpretation, the staff and officers around him moving with a much different energy than before. Fighting the Archeri and their Spire was what every sailor in the combined fleets had trained for. They had been and continued to be a monstrous, unconscionable enemy. Every ship, sailor, and soldier was well-practiced in the art of making them the magic “other” and pulling their triggers without hesitation. The Chorus had made it downright easy. But shooting at your own ships was never something you could train for. ”Battle Group Vespado, stand down or you will be fired upon!” Horst’s voice cut into the comm like a claymore, a growl present as the Enduring Flame charged ahead at flank speed toward the cluster of ships. Each lingered just above the still-descending bottom chunk of the Spire, their guns firing upward at as many Imperial ships as they could target. When their next volley landed, an Imperial cruiser began to burn. It only took a few more seconds for one of its engines to explode, demolishing the ship’s stern. ”Give ‘em a warning shot.” One of the Flame’s turbolasers fired, a huge bolt sent soaring just over the bow of the battle group’s flagship, the battleship Anenke. The holocomm in front of him immediately flickered to life, displaying a human woman half his age with short hair, navy cap firmly affixed. ”What the hell do you think you’re doing, General? Siding with the fucking facists?” ”Captain Smarcan. You have five seconds to stand down your battlegroup and power down every system that isn’t life support.” The woman squinted, her face riddled with offense. ”You can’t be serious.” ”Don’t make me prove it.” ”General, we’re wasting the initiative. The Imps are already forming up-” Horst motioned at one of the officers. Another of the Flame’s turbolasers roared as a bolt went soaring into the battleship, smashing through its shields and into the hull. The impact jostled Smarcan where she sat, her surrounding crew audible as they yelled damage reports. ”You fucking traitor!” ”All ships, priority target, Battle Group Vespado. Engage on my mark.” The battle group clustered together, their fire petering off as they were surrounded by their own compatriots. Captain Smarcan sat tense in her chair as her crew demanded orders, knuckles twitching as she gripped the sides. ”... Anenke to Battle Group Vespado. Stand down.” ”Prepare to be boarded.” Cutting the comms, Horst took a short breath before shuffling over to a small room adjoining the command center. Waiting for the door to lock and the windows to tint to an absolute darkness, he punched in a quick verification code before the enclosed holocomm sent out a signal over an encrypted channel. It only took a few moments for the signal to reach Coruscant, the line opening up. ”Ald, it’s Horst. Call the Empress right fucking now. We just shot at her.” The Supreme Chancellor’s office was a hive of activity as Coruscant Prime crested the horizon. Alder had remained late in his office, after his evening meeting with the Grandmaster, but as his wife, Orona, had so caringly put it, even the Supreme Chancellor had to sleep eventually. The battle would drag on through the night, and it did. But the mood this fine morning was celebratory. The Singing Spire had been destroyed before it could fire on Nar Shaddaa. The second Spire had been destroyed minutes ago — knocked out of the sky as the Archeri attempted a desperate flight from Nar Shaddaa’s surface. Alder hadn’t seen such cheering in the Republic Executive Building since the Sith were turned away from Coruscant with battered pride and shattered teeth. It was hard, even for him, to keep from dancing, and he didn’t bother to hide the extra pep in his step as he walked around his office, reminding his staff and aides that there was still plenty of work to do before the crisis was resolved. “Sir,” D-1N0 stuck his silver-plated head in a break room, where Alder was halfway through a conversation about the Republic Health Administration’s efforts to contain the plague, “you have a message from General Stellar.” The protocol droid paused. “It appears to be rather urgent, Sir.” “I’m coming,” Alder said, refilling his glass with water. A strange uneasiness settled in his stomach as he entered his office, the door hissing shut behind him. Horst had provided occasional updates of critical moments through the battle — when the Spire was destroyed, and when its successor had been shot down — but he’d left the more mundane updates to his second, Keer Na. What could be so urgent now? “Put him through, D-1N0.” Horst’s holographic image flashed to life. Alder could immediately tell from the look on the general’s face that something was wrong. ”Ald, it’s Horst. Call the Empress right fucking now. We just shot at her.” Alder felt as if he’d been slapped. “We...” he started, for once caught completely flat-footed as he searched for words, “shot at her?” He only barely registered the sound of the glass in his hand shattering, or the cold shock of water spilling over his hand and wrist mixed with the sharp stab of broken shards digging into his skin and the warmth of blood in his palm. ”Good people, who have witnessed and endured terrible things but with everything still to lose personally, are more than capable of throwing away far more than they can anticipate if they believe they are acting for the betterment of the greater good.” The Grandmaster’s words, from less than twelve hours prior, echoed like thunder in Alder’s mind. "And I fear there are many of our military personnel who have grown tired of being hit with the first shot." Then everything seemed to kick into high gear and his mind raced, as if in an effort to more than compensate for his stunned silence. “Horst, take whatever steps you have to in order to defend our fleets, if the Sith return fire, but make sure that no one takes any more shots at them unless fired upon.” Surely Horst already knew that. But surely the Republic’s fleet had known how critical this alliance was. “I want,” he said, voice growing quiet with cold fury, “whoever is responsible for this on Coruscant, and I want them here yesterday. Keep me informed.” The line blinked out. Alder looked at his hand, wet and bloodied. He felt dazed, as if seeing the world through a fog, as he reached for a cloth napkin and wiped the water and blood away. Yet through it ran a line of crystal clarity. One crisis to another. He keyed the code to activate his emergency line to Renata. Weeks of hard work, on the edge of being torn apart. And for what? A momentary surprise — a few shots and some ruined Sith ships in exchange letting chaos ripple across the Galaxy. The line gave three beeps — a warning that his call to the Empress would go through in five seconds. Alder cleared his expression and put the napkin away. He was the image of steady, unshakeable calm, despite the hurricane whirling within him. “Empress,” he said, as a holographic image, near-perfect in its detail, flickered to life, “it seems we have an emergency.”

[Meira]

The soft ones drank themselves into a stupor when the Singing Spire had been destroyed. They'd cheered and opened more champagne. Quickly their celebration of the troops turned to how they might each profit from the now obviously certain victory over this invading force. What had been bluffs of confidence in the Archeri's defeat transformed into the flush of true relief and then followed by the glint of greed in each of their eyes. Renata had encouraged it. Their wealth was her wealth, after all. It was not long before they'd all grown bloated with hope and drink and slumped on their couches, snoring softly. The others remained, vigilant and anxious. A wounded animal was often the most dangerous, and the Archeri were certainly wounded. Renata watched them as they watched the viewports and the various displays that lit up the observation deck.

All around, screens displayed readouts of the various capital ships deployed above the moon. And suddenly, all screens flickered and changed to varying perspectives of the same thing. The second Spire, which had attempted to launch from the planet's surface was blooming in fire as the coalition forces finally gained the final upper hand. A silence filled the room as all eyes -even Renata's- watched in stunned relief. It was over. They'd won.

It was a sober celebration, tempered by the understanding that there were still many Archeri ships making desperate and confused retreats from the battle. But, without their superweapon and central intelligence, these strange beings no longer posed the existential threat they had not long before. What would follow would certainly be a long and tedious process, but it amounted to little more than sweeping up.

"We are so very proud." Renata said, coming to stand beside Lord Tilen. He had his beads out again, but she noted his grip was no longer so desperate as before.

Tilan breathed deeply before replying, but his voice still held the slighted waiver. "It is our family's deepest honor to serve the Empire and our Radiant Empress."

"You should rest now." Renata said, gracing the man with a light touch to the shoulder. "You must all, please, rest. Your loved ones are heroes and must be welcomed home by fresh faces."

The room began to clear as people moved with lighter steps and hearts toward the doors and their waiting quarters. The dozing war hawks were roused and ushered out as well. Tilen lingered and Renata could hear his thoughts as if he were speaking them out loud. It took a few moments, however, before the man plucked up the courage to address her.

"Your Radiance, I-"

An alarm blared over the comms, cutting off the man's words. The view screens shifted, showing the command decks of several Imperial ships. On the screens, the faces of confused officers struggled to keep controlled as chaos erupted around them. A door of the observation room opened and one of the Caldera officers rushed in.

"Your Radiance! Forgive me I-"

"What happened!?" Renata shouted at the man, shocking him out of the time wasting formality.

"The Republic has fired on some of our ships!"

A rage coursed instantly through Renata with a force that echoed through the room. Both the officer and Lord Tilen recoiled, as if from the heat of a sudden burst of flame. The officer recovered first, moving into step behind Renata as she swept toward a screen. On it, the ship's captain barked orders at her crew, attempting to regain control of the situation. The officer at Renata's side touched a hand to his ear for a moment, then spoke again.

"Captain Inuro wishes to inform you that he is ready to make the jump to lightspeed at your order, Your Radiance."

"What?" Renata said, rounding on the man. "We will give no such order! We will not abandon our fleet!"

"ZELA!"

The absolute anguish in Tilen's voice pulled Renata from her fury, sparing the officer for the time being. She turned her gaze to find the Lord fallen to his knees, beads on the floor beside him as tears welled in his eyes. She followed his haunted stare back to the screen. It had gone blank. At the top corner, a status alert read Severance: connection lost. An alarm sounded again and a nearby screen changed to show a view of the Enduring Flame changing course. Captain Inuro's holographic form appeared beside her at almost the same instant.

"Your Radiance, we are betrayed! It is my solemn duty to protect you at all cost! I beg your-"

"SILENCE!" Renata's already sharp features were drawn tighter, her eyes practically sparking with energy as she watched the Republic flagship fire... on its own vessels. There as a tense moment, followed by another. "Captain Inuro," she said, her eyes never leaving the view screen, "order all Imperial ships to stand ready." Inuro's face turned slightly to the side and he nodded, passing the order onto a comms officer somewhere out of view. Renata took a slow, deep breath.

"Out." she said to the officer beside her. "And take Lord Tilen with you."

The officer rushed to obey, lifting the practically catatonic Tilen from the floor and hobbling from the room with him. Renata then cut off the comm to Inuro and deactivated all the screens in the room with a wave of her hand. That same hand extended out and flexed ever so slightly. The beads flew through the air and she caught them, moving them one by one through her fingers as she stepped toward the high backed throne. She wondered at what faith they represented when the tone sounded. She set the beads down and lifted her face as she accepted the connection.

“Empress,” the Chancellor's image appeared before her, “it seems we have an emergency.”

"What we have, Alder, is a betrayal." she replied, her voice a shard of ice. "This is unforgivable."

[Rugs]

“What we have, Alder, is a betrayal.”

The Empress’ voice was sharp, biting, as soon as her image flickered to life. Alder kept his face placid with a practiced effort. Despite the fury whirling within, he could not allow emotion to drag this conversation out of control — not with the threat of war hanging over them both like a guillotine blade ready to fall.

“This is unforgivable.”

Alder inhaled deeply through his nose; a steadying breath before speaking.

“On those two matters, we agree, Empress,” he said levelly. “Believe me, I know what this must look like from your perspective, but these actions were not authorized from our end.”

From what he had been told, Renata — or her vessel, at least — had been in the Y’toub system. Whether she actively participated in the battle or observed it from afar, he could not say, but if that report was correct — and he had no reason to believe it was not — she’d held a front-row view of the disaster.

“As we speak, Republic forces under the direct command of General Stellar are moving to corral the rogue actors and prevent them from escalating the situation further,” his lips pressed together and his jaw tightened. He felt no need to hide this from her — were Renata at the battle, it was something she could doubtless observe with her own eyes. More importantly, to withhold important information in the wake of what was happening would do little to calm matters.

“Once this is completed, he has given instructions to arrest those responsible and return them immediately to Republic space.”

Trials would follow. Trials that were likely to be very public, and very nasty. Alder didn’t want to consider the internal upheaval that would follow — it had been decades since such a scandal rocked the Republic. With Outer Rim senators already clamoring for war with the Sith to reclaim their lost homeworlds, he feared this would do immeasurable damage in tearing open anew wounds that had yet to heal.

“Just as I would never ask our own forces to withhold from defending themselves,” he said carefully, “I know I certainly cannot ask that you prevent yours from protecting themselves. But I will say this, Empress: you, better than anyone in the Galaxy, know the work that went into forging this alliance. I fear the damage this action has caused to that agreement may be irreparable, but I ask you: do not let the bad faith of a few drag this entire Galaxy back to war.”

He paused for a moment, letting the words hang, then added, “We have only just achieved victory, together.”

[Meira]

Even through the holoprojection, Renata could see the Chancellor's tightly controlled features flexing ever so slightly. Either he was indeed in agreement about the unforgivable nature of his officers' actions, or he was the finest actor in the galaxy. While the answer might contain a sliver of truth from the latter, the events unfolding not far from her own ship confirmed the former. This was a rogue action, not sanctioned by the Republic itself. Nevertheless, it very well could reignite the war between the two super powers all the same. While Renata certainly did not fear such a return to the natural order, she would not have picked the here and now as the starting point. Any victory here would be pyrrhic at best.

The question became, what would be done now? Renata waved one hand and one of the screens nearby flicked back to life. Silently, it displayed the movements of the Republic ships. Those that had fired on the Imperial vessels were powering down, the bright spots of their engines fading into dull glows as other ships were moving in on them. As Alder said, they were acting quickly to control the situation. Renata waved her hand again and another screen reactivated. This one displayed what should have been the bridge feed of the Severance. It was blank, with a small no signal icon in the corner. Another motion of her hand, and then another. Two more no signal icons. Both the Defiance and the Insurgent were lost as well. The third of Severance's group, the Dissident still had a signal. The image showed an abandoned bridge, emergency lights flashing as several consoles sputtered with sparks. The screen cycled to another view of one of the life pod corridors, showing that all pods had been launched. It cycled again to an engineering deck, as empty as the bridge, actively on fire. Again, showing a landing bay with fighters strewn in pieces across the deck. Renata waved her hand and deactivated the screen, having seen enough. A cruiser and all three of her supporting ships, gone. She would soon be receiving a report with the number of survivors. She was not optimistic about that number.

Renata was well aware that Alder had been speaking as she had reviewed the damage his soldiers had done. She was aware of the heavy silence she'd created after he'd finished his explanation and implored her to have patience, to not be brash. She wanted him to wait. She wanted him to feel that uncertainty gnaw through his stomach as he watched her decide their fates. Would she see reason? Would she show grace? She made him wait several long moments longer before she deigned to turn her eyes onto him once again. When she did, that same fire burned behind them, focused and white hot.

"You cannot possibly believe Us to be such a fool, Alder." she said, the words an admonishment. "You expect Us to simply stand by while these war criminals are carried away to the heart of the Republic? You expect Us to watch idly as the murderers of several thousand of Our most dedicated and heroic subjects are ferried away and out of the reach of Our justice?" Renata shook her head, pushing on the arm rests of her throne to bring herself to her feet. the holocamera followed in a flawless upward motion, tracking the Empress as she paced forward.

"These monsters will be surrendered to Our Imperial forces immediately. They will stand trial in Our courts, as it is Our people that they have so ruthlessly massacred."

[Rugs]

For a long moment, the silence stretched on between Alder and Renata--between Chancellor and Empress. He waited, keeping his expression as carefully neutral as ever. Now was not the time to rush to brash action, as the rogue officers had. Nor was it the time to blink in the face of expected Imperial pressure.

Two real outcomes existed, as he saw it. Either the Republic and the Empire would navigate the crisis, with all of the strain anew it placed upon and already-fraught relationship, or hostilities would resume. Despite their recent alliance against a mutual threat, Alder doubted anyone with any credibility from either nation believed the former wouldn’t come eventually.

But now is not the time, he thought. There were more pressing needs that resuming the old blood feud.

Will you see it that way, he wondered at Renata’s projected image. Her word was law among the Empire, her power, absolute. But that did not make it infinite; even despots could be removed if their subjects yearned dearly enough for something.

When finally Renata spoke again, Alder listened intently. He inhaled deeply, steadying himself at her request as he locked eyes with the holographic image before her.

“You know I cannot do that,” he said plainly, in a tone that said he would not, even if it were an option for serious consideration.

Turning Republic officers over to the Empire for judgment — for embarrassment and execution, more likely — would see him thrown out of the Chancellor’s office. More importantly, it’d be an unprecedented capitulation to the Republic’s most formidable foe.

“I take no joy in the loss of your fighting forces, who put their lives on the line to work with our ow, Empress. The men and women who betrayed the ideals of this Republic, against the word that we have given, will face justice,” he said. “Of that, Empress, I can assure you. But that justice must be the Republic’s justice. It will take time, but if we had no intention of doing so, General Stellar wouldn’t have fired on his own ships.”

“Once the perpetrators are in custody, I will authorize General Stellar to pull Republic forces away from the Imperial fleet, beyond engagement distance,” Alder said. “While much work remains, I hold no delusions to the irreparable damage this act has done to our coalition.”

[Meira]

“You know I cannot do that.”

Because you are weak.

She knew this would be his reply. How could she not know it? It would have been her own if the roles had been reversed. But the knowledge that the answer was coming did very little to stifle the rage that boiled within her at his defiance. It was likely for the best that they were not in the same room together. I would have been very difficult not to show him what such behavior would win him then. But Alder was far away, on Coruscant. Safely out of the reach of the invading Archeri forces. Renata felt her teeth grinding.

He continued speaking, his words an unwelcome insect buzzing in her ears. They were empty, pointless. She slowly shook her head, even as he droned on about the loss of life, about Republic justice. She felt a bitter laugh forming in her stomach at the thought of that but she choked it down. Turning her back on the hologram, Renata paced to the transparesteel windows. In the far distance, the tiny movements of the Republic ships, of the Imperial wreckage they caused, could just be seen. The holocamara hovered just behind her.

“Once the perpetrators are in custody, I will authorize General Stellar to pull Republic forces away from the Imperial fleet, beyond engagement distance. While much work remains, I hold no delusions to the irreparable damage this act has done to our coalition.”

"No." The word was measured. A single, clear note that held in the long moment after it had been spoken. She turned, her eyes once again burning into the camera, across the lightyears, toward the Chancellor. "If a single one of those criminals exits this system, We will have no choice but to recognize it as a deliberate attempt to protect them from true prosecution. We have faith in the justice of Republic courts, particularly where Our grievances are concerned."

Renata paused, taking a deep breath. She knew as well as anyone that all out conflict here and now would be a net loss for all involved. But just as Alder could not release the rogue officers to Imperial custody, she could not allow them to be taken away.

"If you refuse to yield, then We demand Arbitration."

The clause of the Accord struck between the Empire and the Republic had not been a popular one on either side, if the news reports had the truth of it. But in spite of all that, it had not been rejected either. It was, after all, the only plausible solution to the riddle of the unstoppable force and the immovable object scenario that the Empire and Republic found themselves in. As their previous encounter on Prazhi had shown, there was a grand theater involved in the show of force demanded by both sides. But even theater had its limits, and they'd recognized that there might just come a time when an actual solution would be necessary. Thus, Arbitration.

"We will designate an escort to accompany your designated ships to Prazhi. We will meet you there to settle this matter. Any other action will be taken as a declaration of war."

[Rugs]

Alder allowed a subtle frown to cross his features as the Empress pushed back against his plans. They were hastily-formed, but the best way, in his mind, to prevent the conflict from turning into a full-on shooting war. Remove the offending officers and their vessels. Separate the fleets while tempers ran hot.

You will find our prosecution as true as any in the Galaxy, Renata, he thought flatly. He wondered whether the Empire would seek any true justice in this or simply execute the officers in question. Those thoughts, he left unsaid. There was no point in antagonizing the Empress further, and letting the situation fall to trading petty barbs would solve nothing.

"If you refuse to yield, then We demand Arbitration."

Alder’s eyes narrowed briefly. He fought back a smile — not from warm feelings, but in genuine surprise.

The authors of the treaty that ended the Republic-Sith War had seen that such situations might arise. In the event of a crisis in which neither side refused to budge, one could demand arbitration on Prazhi. The treaty established the Galactic Court--a neutral body tasked with navigating disputes between the two powers.

There was nothing in the treaty that said either power had to make use of the Arbitration clause, nor did one side have to accept the other’s demand for arbitration. It was, however, a final pressure release valve — a last line of defense to prevent the flames of war from sweeping across the Galaxy anew.

Alder leaned back silently, fingers steepled as he considered his next step. Allowing arbitration on Prazhi would still fulfill his primary goal--seeing the perpetrators of the betrayal removed from the immediate situation and put before a court for their crimes. Regardless of what happened on Prazhi, the Republic could and would still hold the officers accountable, and likely see them court marshaled.

But arbitration would raise hackles in the Senate — even Horst would be displeased at the prospect. However, he suspected he could work the Senate along into seeing that the alternative — war — was not something the Republic was ready for.

Not yet.

Alder didn’t relish the choice at all, but given the situation, it seemed to be the only way forward. He wondered, momentarily, what Renata would do if their roles were reversed.

“Very well,” he said finally, after allowing the silence to stretch as he chewed over the situation. He would have to see that Horst took the Flame as a piece of the Republic’s entourage to Prazhi. He’d risk no nonsense — not from the Empire, and not from his Navy. “The officers in question will be held at the Republic embassy until they are to be given over to Prazhi’s custody,” his tone implied that on this, he would not budge, “but I will otherwise accept your demand. Once this call is concluded, we will begin preparing to send word to Prazhi from our end.”

[Meira]

The man was not an easy read in person. Alder had a strong mind, and a powerful will. Across the lightyears his thoughts were impossible to discern. Renata relied on her knowledge of the Chancellor. He was a fair man, and he believed in justice. Renata did not doubt that he would see the logic in her demand. But she also understood the constraints under which he operated. She had more freedom to execute her will as she saw fit, but she was not a fool. All leaders, no matter how absolute, answered to the mob.

She would be lying to herself if she claimed not to feel relief when Alder finally agreed to the Arbitration. The clause, as yet untested, was not a guarantee. Indeed, Renata was well aware that she might have steered them both into more trouble. But war, especially now, would be her undoing. That future she could see clearly. Wither her Inner Sanctum halved and the Republic still able to feed off the morale of having stuck it to the Empire, she knew that the only victory here would be escaping with as few ships lost as possible.

What she needed was the better story. She needed the absolute moral mandate that her cause was just, and that the Republic was rotten to its core. The time that Arbitration would take could help her achieve that, even if the final decision favored the Republic. And so with Alder's agreement, Renata breathed a bit deeper and nodded her head toward the screen.

"One source of reason still illuminates the Republic. We are hopeful that your lessers do not snuff it out."

Renata waved her hand and the holoprojection of Alder flickered away. Renata turned back to the large windows, watching the distant movements of ships. That was one fire hastily stamped out, for now. But the inferno still burned around her. Renata's jaw flexed as her mind raced through the events, both those that had already passed and those yet to come. The balance of her power rested on the razor edge. Any mistep could be her downfall. First thing first. She needed to restore the Pillars of the Empire. They held her aloft. With only two, she was sure to crumble. Renata turned back, moving quickly toward her throne and pressed a call button.

To one side of the room, a door opened and the officer she'd sent scurrying away before came in. His fear was palpable. Renata sat herself down on the throne, arranging her robes just so. "Inform the Captain that Our shuttle must be prepared to take Us to the Regent. He is then to maintain a close formation and await our return."

The officer bowed and then rushed quickly from the room. Once he was gone, Renata sealed the doors once again to ensure that she would not be disturbed. Closing her eyes, Renata reached out with her senses. Across the empty space between herself and the surviving Imperial fleet, across the debris of those that had been destroyed, through the ruin of the Archeri's Spire, to the devastated moon itself, her mind searched. She followed the thin, almost imperceptible threads of the Force to them both. Thin, perhaps. Imperceptible... but strong.

Come to the Regent.