The man had sat there for such a very long time, so long that he had lost track of time beyond anything he once imagined. Infact, one could almost not classify him as a man anymore. Jean was now turning into something else, something dark, something evil. Before comming to this planet, he was more simple mannered, and quiet. Now, however, he was tormented soul, hungry for pain, hungry for blood. A new man had been born here, one whom knew no bounds. He perhaps had been driven mad, being isolated down in the depths of palpatine's lair, but he had yet not gone that far. One thing had kept his mind sharp, keen, and on this side of sanity. She rarely visited him anymore, but he did not care. He still could picture her as clearly as the first day in which she stepped foot out of the imperial intelligence facility so many years ago. Hope, not to sound corny, was his only hope. She held the keys to his obediance, possibly the only thing that could control his rage if he was ever released.
Being let in by his secretary, the two cadets made their way into his office. Inside his office, sat plaques of all different sizes and shapes, and awards galore. Captain Devis' thankfully was a very accomplished Imperial. "Please you two, take a seat. I assume that both of you know the reason as to why you are here?"
A gray-colored Imperial shuttle fell through the atmosphere of Brentaal. That was one thing Cransin noticed about smaller ships going to and from a planet. When they left a planet it seemed like they were actually flying up, bounced off the surface and zooming toward the sky. When they landed, it almost always seemed like they were falling until they repulsors really kicked in and let the planet beneath know who was the superior being. That moment had just come and now gone. The shuttle found purchase on a docking platform in the capital city of Cormond. “This place stinks,” Cransin said as he and Commodore Grensi walked side by side out of the shuttle behind a small corps of Stormtroopers. “It’s the methane, Moff Cransin,” the Commodore replied—textbook. But it was more than that. Brentaal stunk of industry. Of plants working night and day, taking freedom from the people. Of ships and armor and guns and metal things. Brentaal also stunk of rebellion. Cransin could feel it. Many of these people sympathized with the rebels. Not because they were right, but because they felt oppressed. The planet had suffered in past years. The economy couldn’t afford the sixty-five billion people living on the planet. But Cransin could afford it. And in time, Brentaal would again. Wilhad Cransin would erase the stink of this place if it were his last deed. The newly christened Moff and Commodore, both entirely neophytes in their positions, walked down the ramp of the docking platform and to a small air-car which rushed them to the center of Cormond where a large group had formed hearing of the arrival of an Imperial Moff. First the Field Marshall, now an administrator, what could be next? Perhaps it wasn’t news of Moff Cransin, but the heavy warship now blotting out the sun in a geo-synchronous orbit over the capital might. The Harm Done was the physical manifestation of what Wilhad brought an iron fist. It would be up to him to show these people that an iron fist doesn’t just crush: it can build as well. “Sir, here are the latest reports on our occupation,” a mid-level Lieutenant said, walking up to the Moff and Commodore, handing them both datapads. “We’ve secured four more of the major cities. All that remains are scattered rebel groups within the cities and what few rebel strongholds that remain. The Army puts its timetable for complete occupational success at two more weeks.” “This is not an occupation,” Cransin said. “This is a liberation.” “Of course, Moff Cransin,” the Lieutenant said, backing away. Outside of the small anteroom that he and Gernsi were in was what seemed to be the populace of Brentaal. Cransin couldn’t imagine all sixty billion of them there, but then again he could hardly imagine a few million. Chandrilla had a maximum population of one billion. There could be that many outside in all seriousness. So he sucked in a breath, expelled it, and motioned for the Commodore to follow him out to a shielded platform. OOC: The next section of this is a speech that I may or may not post tonight. This post is, in essence, a fast-forward from Mitthy’s battle on Brentaal. He will post that battle when he returns from his moving-in-adventure. TAG: LSA(Not really. You might want to post, but there’s not much here. The meat of everything is in the speech.)
As he listened to Isard’s commanding presence, he began to bring back thoughts of the past year. The more he listened to her and watched her, the more he realized how big of a mistake he had made so many months ago. It was the first time he had really considered any types of treasonous thoughts. She seemed so much more of a leader than his brother-in-law was. She had the experience, and the skills to do so, and she didn’t look like a complete fool while wearing bright red, in fact she seemed quite attractive to him at that moment. But as for her plan, it was good to see someone whom had some guts to get something done. Being bogged down by the other members of the High Council for so long, the empire had yet to mount any type of offensive or defensive that merited any type of recognition in any recent months. Any time the supreme commander wished to mount some sort of attack, others questioned him, or said it was not feasible. Mainly, that person whom contradicted him was the emperor himself. Until just recently, the empire’s navies had sat dormant, waiting for any sort of commands from the hierarchy, and finally when they moved out, His Imperial Majesty’s personal armada was leading the charge, while the Supreme Commander’s fleets were doing low level cleansing missions. To Randal, Isard’s new plan seemed very tempting. In all honestly, Isard was exactly what Duflin needed at a time like this. “Madam Director, I have needed to hear words like that for such a very long time. Finally, someone else in Empire feels the need to act offensively against the rebels without dealing with the somewhat unproductive High Command. I myself, would love to join you and Grand Admiral Vullron.” A slight pause came to Duflin’s voice as he thought about what he was about to say. If Iaisus ever got wind of his thoughts, he would be executed immediately. But thankfully, Ysanne would be the one person in the Empire that would never tell the emperor. She would probably stand by the words he was about to say, and support him in his decision, after all, she was supposed to be the emperor’s successor. “But, there is another matter that I have been thinking about for a very long time. Our current Emperor is honestly not doing as well as we once thought. In fact, I regret supporting him when he had his bid for emperor. I don’t know exactly how to say this, but I would much rather of had you be our glorious empire’s leader. I know of some others that feel just as strong as I do, and I know how much you probably feel the same. It is hard to bring something of this magnitude into the light, but it is necessary. Do you understand what I am presenting?" He had let it all hang out, his complete existence in life, and as an officer now hung on the balance of what Isard would say. If she would tell this to the emperor, there would be no point left to Duflin’s life. Things would get quite ugly, and that is something no one would want to see.
"I would love to stay and talk to the admiral, but i actually have something i have been meaning to do for quite some time back at the capital. I will return shortly after this, to go into detail about the outer rim with Vullon." Taking a smooth bow, Randal quickly left the room, and headed twards his shuttle. The meeting had been a brief one, but one that would be remembered for a long time. It was the first time that he had ever voiced his doubts about the emperor, and i somewhat wished it he wasnt alone. Thankfully, Isard shared his views, and perhaps Admiral Vullon did as well. He would look forward to meeting him later. But for now, Duflin knew there was something else he had to do, if he ever wished to have this go even remotely smoothly. Reaching his bridge, he made his first order of the day, a short one, and probably one of the easiet courses to plot. "Helm, set a course home, to coruscant. Its time i began to tell some truth." The two ships both stood still for a moment, then quickly vanished into the stars.
Grabbing something out of his desk, the command came back up with a pair of small cases. In these boxes, laid new ranks for both of the new men. "Lt. Commander Varn, Lt. Starr, you have a new assignment. The Strike Cruiser Black Knight is currently in orbit. The two of you, are to take command of the ship, and head to the planet of Commenor. We are not quite sure as to the situation at the planet, so we are choosing to send the two of you out there to find out. There may be some enemy presence at the planet, and there may be not. Use your best judgement as to what to do with the situation, Grand Admiral Duflin expects a full report once the planet is secured. If there are no questions, you two better get a move on. Dismissed."