Galactic Emperor Iaius Augustus Jello, Princess Arya Padmé Jello The prismatic skylights were a bit much, thought Arya Padmé Jello, Princess of the Empire. Her doting father, who could truly claim the conceit of calling himself lord and master of the civilized galaxy, sat on a throne raised high above the auditorium seats ringed around it. The place was called the ‘State Auditorium,’ but that strictly utilitarian name was an exercise in understatement if she ever saw one (which was why the room was often given the official-sounding appellation ‘The Chamber of the Imperial Presence’). A tremendously vaulted ceiling soared above the throne, and it was plastered with banners emblazoned with the Imperial Seal and other such symbolism. If that ostentatious display seemed a bit too subtle, then three bright lights bearing down on the throne from high above cleared away any such notions. Her father enjoyed such near-divine pretensions. It allowed him to play at being a god—but not just any god, but rather the lord of them all. When he had learned that Arya took so much after him, he had proclaimed that she had sprung fully armed out of his head, a very well-known Coruscanti mythological reference. The Emperor did sometimes seem like that country squire from the Mid-Rim, constantly needing to remind others about his greatness. The aristocracy didn’t care for it. Arya could hardly fault her father for it, since his greatness could not be denied—who else would have had the audacity and the capability to do what he had done? No, perhaps crediting his background was unfair; he was truly great. She was formed in the same mold as him in that regard, and even she had to admit that she enjoyed the notion of playing at the goddess of war. But sometimes she wondered whether the line of propagandistic symbolism and reality blurred. Did her father actually believe in such? Or was he simply that good of an actor? She could never ask him, of course, because he would simply give her one of his irritatingly patronizing smiles and ask her what she thought. That old pedagogue routine had gotten stale by the time the princess was old enough to represent her father at state functions and to go out on campaigns, but she suspected that he enjoyed it too much to ever desist. The princess was seated in a special box directly in front of the throne, albeit far across a dizzying span that scratched above a disturbingly deep chasm. Why the late Emperor Palpatine had been so fond of such things the princess would never know, but she hoped that she could one day install some sort of safety system around all those bottomless pits. At any rate, her father was beginning to speak and she knew that she’d best pay rapt attention. Her father expected her to be fully conversant with anything he’d mentioned as a matter of state, and Arya knew better than to get distracted with idle ponderings. “Our lords and ladies, citizens and citizenesses of the Empire, hail. What pleasure there is in being a part of this vast edifice, this monumental undertaking never equaled in galactic history. We are part of something special and something unique. Just two years ago, our beloved father perished at the hand of Rebel terrorists. Who would have credited it then that we would persevere and even prosper without him? Unthinkable, was the notion! Yet here we are.” The Emperor spoke in Basic, so that his subjects could understand him, but there was still a noticeable High Galactic inflection to the words, giving them an otherworldly grandeur. His voice boomed through the chamber, seeming at once majestic and comforting. He sounded like a caring father, but perhaps that was simply Arya’s interpretation. Others viewing this speech through the HoloNet may think something else entirely of this unapproachable figure, dressed in a sumptuous purple toga decorated with gold embroidery and capped by a golden wreath. There was nothing at all intimate about that to most people, but there was still something there in that grandiloquent baritone that echoed of paternal love. It was acting, of course, but it was good. “It was not an easy road, however. Many of you are now aware of the disgusting rot that has pervaded the provinces of the Mid Rim and beyond. This fetid disintegration of Imperial order began almost a year ago, just after Our”—ah, there was that special emphasis that showed the Emperor was using the pluralis majestatis (as they said in High Galactic) to refer to himself rather than the general our—“coronation as Galactic Emperor. These agents of anarchy and terror sought to destroy this wellspring of galactic civilization and bathe the galaxy in darkness most foul. We took to the stars to battle them and to keep their menacing thralls from invading the Core Worlds. Our own daughter, our beloved Princess Arya, was roused from her lessons of statecraft and fought with Us to stem the tide of the enemy.” Arya swallowed, keenly aware that one hundred thousand eyes in this chamber were now upon her—and trillions yet in the galaxy as a whole. She gave a radiant smile and dipped her head slightly towards the holocams, in acknowledgement of the applause. For a moment, she felt as if the golden eagle hairpin holding up her elaborate coiffure was about to slip, but that barest of moments passed. She gave another nod to the audience and then bade her father continue, happy to give the attention back to him. “Rumor has it that the Grand Inquisitor, a man known only in nightmares and campfire stories, has declared himself the ‘Dark Lord of the Sith’,” he voice was laced with derision as he spoke those last few words, “so that he could scare our valiant soldiers with the memories of Lord Vader. Yet Lord Vader was a champion of the Empire, a man dedicated to rooting out the scourge of rebellion and violence from our fair galaxy! Who, though, are the Inquisitors but a league of unjust bullies, who once sought to unjustly terrorize the good citizens of the Empire? Our august father, the late emperor, created the Inquisition in the hope that they would replace the decrepit Jedi Order in the pursuit of justice. Yet one fall prefigures another, and the Inquisitors quickly replaced the foul Jedi they sought to supplant. Now they have joined with a group calling themselves the Prophets of the Dark Side in order to render the rest of the galaxy as slaves! They may sound comical and amusing with their titles, reminiscent of the farce and the mime, but their demonic powers are very real. They are a threat to everything the Empire stands for.” Biting her lip, the princess considered what she knew of the Sith and the Dark Side. Her education in the Force had been conducted with the same lofty standards as her training in war and statecraft. She read the epic poems about the Great Sith War and of the Jedi who defeated Exar Kun (she had also seen the tragedy Ulic, a favorite of the late Palpatine, but she could never imagine what he liked about the dull thing), and her education on the Force was based along these lines. It had been many millennia since those wars, and though the tales were compelling, they were also very embellished. It suited the Imperial style well to learn of the Force as utilized by the ancient and heroic Jedi, but there was little of substance about the Jedi that had lived just a few decades earlier. There was precious less about the Sith, who still existed here and now. Those records had all been lost in the Great Purge, and somehow it felt a little empty to have all the training that initiates in the Order of the Empire received be based on classical literature. “Long ago, we saw the Rebellion as the greatest threat to us and ours. These uncouth individuals and their corrupt senatorial masters were the modern day Separatists, seeking to mire the galaxy in civil wars without end. The Rebellion is still out there, consolidating their control over the wilds of the galaxy—yet at least they know their place, out there beyond the most distant fringes of civilization! The flames of Imperial Retribution will yet cleanse their barbaric ways and bring order to the Rim, but let them have their ill-begotten successes. We must look to the troubles festering here and now.” A shrewd move; the public must never forget about the dangers the Rebellion posed to their way of life, lest Imperial vigilance and virility grow lax. Yet Arya knew that her father planned to begin preliminary talks with the self-proclaimed Galactic Alliance to procure their coöperation against the Sith. It was unlikely that the Empire would ever countenance a full peace with the Rebellion, but perhaps a small token of recognition could be granted? That way, it would not look as if the Emperor was forgiving the Rebellion in order to receive their aid, but that he had the magnanimity to allow them their paltry names. “Longer ago still, Imperial City was once known as the Eternal City. All roads lead to Coruscant, they said. Well, We say that they still do! The Empire will stand eternal if we promise never to fail in our duty to guard her. For the Empire is our sister, our wife, and our mother. We gaze upon her helmeted visage and see one that is deeply known to us, and we know that she stands ready to fight for us—with one hand nestled close to her heart, holding the blue flames of Imperial Retribution, and the other spread out in benediction to those willing to receive her Mercy. She stands above the galaxy, her robes billowing out to the stairs. She loves us, and we must love her.” The princess genuinely smiled. He had been describing her favorite work of art—the marble statue of Lady Empire, the putative patron goddess of Imperial rule, that was placed in front of the Imperial Palace in the place of a statue of the late Palpatine. It was her idea to use an allegorical symbol of the Empire rather than that of a particular individual, because it would highlight the new Emperor’s care for his citizens rather than self-glorification. Arya had been tasked to commission the sculptors and supervise the designs, as she was becoming a patroness of the arts in the mold of her father. She was deeply fond of the ancient pantheons, and planned the design accordingly; these things tended to resonate more though the ages and especially with Core Worlders, even though aliens were disgusted by the humanocentric design. That the physique and features of Lady Empire resembled those of the princess was purely coincidental; the sculptors had needed a model, after all, and why hire one when she could do just as well? Her father had teased her about that—self-glorification indeed. But ah, now it was time for the address to end in the traditional fashion. “THE EMPIRE IS VICTORIOUS ON ALL FRONTS!”
Lady Naera Paramin, Imperial Advisor Naera had listened dutifully, along with the other advisors with whom she had attended the state address. Her own aides remained seated behind her and took cues on when to clap; she knew that these aspiring politicians had not actually been listening to the Emperor's speech. This was their folly; it was common sense in the upper echelons of government to be fully briefed on absolutely everything; especially when the highest seat in that government opened its mouth. Yes, they would come to regret this. When His Imperial Majesty Emperor Iaius I was finished, Naera stood and applauded- her aides only a millisecond behind her. The roar of applause lasted for at least five minutes, and then still longer after Iaius had left the dais. HIM had finally decided to lead the Empire into talks with the Rebellion; at least, to rid them both of the Sith uprising. She couldn't decide if she was more frustrated that it had taken him this long to recognize a good idea, or if she was more proud that the slow progress of government had promoted in HIM careful deliberation on the matter. Either way, something was about to happen in the Empire, and she intended to be a part of it. Naera Paramin had become an Imperial Advisor during Palpatine's last days. She had achieved some degree of fame in the Imperial Court for her shrewd ideas on any matter of governing a colossal government such as the Empire. Although she had attended academy, she did not come from any sort of status in the Empire. As such, she tended to feel as though others looked down upon her. Although, considering her latest position, she had few reasons to worry over this any longer. "Well! We have work to do," Naera proclaimed, as the aides behind her ignored her and began to titter about a handsome Moff who had also attended the address. She turned to leave, with a glare at the aides. She donned what others might call formal wear; such was normal for those in close discussions with the Emperor. Her top was a shimmery deep emerald green knit whose neckline swooped from the end of her left collarbone to the end of her right. The sleeves were overly long, falling only a few inches from the tips of her fingers, but it was an elegant look; not sloppy. Her skirt clung to her hips and down to her knees, but flowed out with a small train that made it a more simple task for her to walk quickly than one might have imagined. Although both were taller than her, Shimora and Waleshe struggled to keep up. Shimora carried a datapad and streamed off the list of engagements and meetings Naera would be attending that day. When she reached the end of the list, she said with exasperation, "And at some point, you need to fit in a privy council meeting," in an attempt at irony. This would undoubtedly be the most important meeting of the day. "Shimora," Naera began with equal exasperation, "forget everything else. We need to be able to brief the Emperor on our relations with the Rebellion... and how I plan to deal with it." "Lady Paramin, we've been preparing for this for days, since His Imperial Majesty's address was announced," Waleshe said. "Thank you, Waleshe, as if I wasn't already aware. Listen to me," Naera said, turning around on her aides before they had time to stop. They had made their way from the auditorium into a hallway on the way to her office. "This could very well be the most important meeting I'll ever have. And if I'm lucky- no, if I'm prepared- then it may just be an important day for you. Have the talking points in my hands in the next five minutes, and don't ever discuss good-looking Moffs in the same room as the Emperor again. I don't care if he can hear you or not. You were in the presence of other state officials. Did you notice? All of them were men, seated in our section. The very reason we have such trouble as women in this place is because of attitudes like yours." The girls stood stunned for a moment, and then rushed past Naera where she stood. This gave her an opportunity to take a relaxing walk for the last relaxing minutes of the day.
The past few months had been a rough time on the Empire, and thus it had been a rough time on Randal as well. Report after report had piled up on his desk, informing him of the situation with the Sith succession from the Empire. The sheer number of personnel that had their loyalty swayed to the Sith was surprising at first to him, but eventually the numbers became just statistics on the pieces of paper. Some of the names were familiar to him. There were acquaintances, former crewmates, and even some close friends, but they were lost to him now. They had chosen to throw in their lot with the Sith and stand against the Empire. Anyone that stood against the Empire was someone that Randal would not tolerate or even consider a friend. They were all his enemies now. The faces of these men that he knew flashed in his mind as Iaius spoke of the new threat of the Sith. Declann. The name and the face constantly came back into Randal’s mind. His was the only face that Randal could identify as a face for these….Sith. The tingle for whiskey rang in Randal’s mind, but he brushed it of easily, for there was something more important to focus on. As Iaius’ speech ended, Randal stood to applause him as did the trillions of other people in the galaxy watching this speech, yet the speech left a slight sour feeling in his mouth. Iaius had just hinted towards opening talks with the Rebellion. The thought of even recognizing them as a legitimate government and power in the galaxy was something that members of the empire considered foolish. During the days of Palpatine, such notions were treason. But today perhaps marked a new step in the march back towards the complete control of the galaxy. Dealing with the more recent Sith insurgency was far more important than that of the now years old Rebel situation. Perhaps even in working with them, Iaius could show the Rebel’s how good of a leader he truly is, and perhaps even in time take them back into the fold without as much bloodshed as before. Nonsense, they still will remain enemies as soon as they find our presence to have no use. A smile crept across his face as he denounced the notion of a permanent alliance with the Rebels, for something of that magnitude was beyond the ability for the galaxy to cope with….for now. As H.I.M. and his daughter left the podium, the rest of the people in attendance began to vacate the auditorium in a very efficient manner. Walking towards the exit with other members of the Admiralty other important figures of the Empire, a flash of color caught his eye among the otherwise mostly white and grey clothing of the auditorium. The green silk that caught his eye eventually found a face. Lucrecia His eyes were playing tricks on him, but Randal did not know this. To him, what he saw was Real. Slowing down his pace, he tried to focus his eyes looked over and told him he was seeing his wife, alive and well. Thud! From behind, Randal was hit by the line of people trying to exit the building. “Forgive me” he said, quickly returning to the pace of the rest of the people in line. As he looked back to see Lucrecia, he instead found some other woman in the same clothing. She was a blonde haired woman, obviously of some higher level or importance, but not one that Randal was familiar with. For the moment, he turned his eyes back to the lines of people leaving the auditorium, still holding onto the image of his lost wife he had seen just moments earlier.
“THE EMPIRE IS VICTORIOUS ON ALL FRONTS!” Sitting on the bridge of the Vindicator – her Vindicator – Captain Kallipso Stavus resisted the urge to join in on the clapping that continued to roar from the holo. From the expressions on the faces of her bridge crew, it seemed that they, too, wished to join in, but knew better than to do anything that may anger their captain. That may have been a good thing on someone else’s ship, but Stavus preferred respect over fear. They would learn, eventually, or else they would leave. Momentarily, she wondered whether the rest of the crew, also listening in on the Emperor’s speech, were as impressed as those she could see. Hopefully so. The Emperor was a great man and deserved that respect and admiration. Nodding to her communications officer to shut off the ship-wide intercom, Stavus stood and strode to the front viewport, where her lieutenant joined her. “Status report, ma’am,” he announced, handed her a datapad, then returned to his station. The captain nodded again and began to read the scrolling text. When she finished, Stavus turned to look down at her navigator. “Plot a course to Imperial Centre,” she informed him. “Apparently we have a new assignment.” Ignoring the pleased expressions on many of their faces, Stavus returned to her seat to re-read the report. Finally, things were getting moving. Finally, they would get to show their worth, once again, in battle. And they would not be defeated, not if Stavus had a say in anything.
The lights, the people, the grandeur. The entire screen image was just magnificent. Thok could not believe what a powerful feeling the images on the screen were providing. And to think, the emperor had not even begun his speech to the galaxy. Just the tone and cadence of the Emperor’s voice emitted enough power to show that he was truly in charge. To have that sort of power, to have the control over large amounts of people, to be the Man who could command that sort of empire was enthralling. Thok could think of nothing else as the Emperor continued his speech announcing his plan of action for the Empire. Walking from his bedroom to the living room, Thok turned his larger projector onto the Holonet news, which was covering the emperor’s speech from many different camera angles. Everything seemed so perfect, so beautiful, so…empowering. Look at this young man, so in charge of his life. He’s already the most powerful man in the galaxy, and what is he, maybe 40?. Thok was envious, but not because he wanted the empire for himself, but because this Emperor Iaius was able to control all of his people, and he was a man! Grabbing the remote, Thok switched of the telecast. He had seen enough of this speech for today. With a quick flick of his wrist, he whipped the remote onto one of the sofas, and moved back into his bedroom. Disrobing himself, Thok stepped over to the mirror to get a better look at himself. His skin was bronze, tight, toned. As he flexed his chest, the ripples of his abdomen could be seen with great detail. Perfect he thought. I have the intelligence, the beauty, and the physique to be a man of power. Someday, the time will come where I can assume that position. Someday I will deal with those who stand in the way of my dreams. Then, those who are within the Hapes Cluster will bow to me Thok Halycron, as the ruler of the Hapes Consortium. Walking over to his closet, he began to look through the different choices in what he would wear to dinner that night. Hmm…the red tunic? The black suit? So many different choices, but what to choose? Oh, well since I’m in the spirit of things, I think I’ll wear this! Quickly removing the hanger, Thok put on one of the more outlandish outfits he owned. It was a simple pair of black slacks with a red pinstripe up the side. Black wingtips and black socks accompanied them quite well. A simple black tunic, but it happened to be made of some of the finest silk in the galaxy. However, this was not what made this outfit so outlandish, that right was left for the suit coat he wore with it. It was as bright of a red as a Sith’s lightsaber, double breasted. To finish things off, Thok grabbed his black hat and gloves, quickly putting them on. Moving back towards the mirror, Thok gave himself a good final glance. Perfect. He was ready for a good evening on the town. Grabbing a cane from next to the door, Thok turned out the lights, and locked his house for while he was gone.