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The Fett Dynasty II: Siege of Orri Prime	By : WLTDNFADED Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 3811 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
I just wanted to start off by saying I�m not entirely happy with this chapter. I personally feel my writing has been better, but at least this keeps the plot going.

The inspiration for this particular plot line came from the fall of the Soviet Union and its unfortunate takeover by the Russian Mob. I felt it would be a rather fitting predicament for the Empire.
Ivy

Episode 2

Chapter 6

A Fistful of Credits
The thin white streamers of stars instantly imploded back into twinkling dots of light as the gleaming black insectile form of Czethros� fiercely modified and armored D-6 leisure cruiser, the Dama Fortuna, was hurled out of hyperspace. As he lounged lazily in his mammoth black leather captain�s chair, Czethros perused this new area of space through the ship�s viewshield. The only thing of any note occupying the almost-starless void was the bright array of a black hole feeding upon a small white dwarf star some few thousand light years away and a grouping of barren planetoids off in the nearer distance. Other than that, there was nothing more than black vacuity.

�Charming,� he muttered. He turned his bionic visor. �Jober, time?�

�Half beyond the sematron,� Jober announced from his pilot�s chair. He turned his furred muzzle over his shoulder. �We�re late, you know,� he grumbled worriedly.

�Only fashionably so.� Czethros smirked slightly as he raised his glass from the arm of his seat. He couldn�t help but notice the subtle rippling in Jober�s pelt, indicating apprehension. �You don�t like the Imps, do you, Jober?�

�Only the onesmy pmy payroll. Up until now, I�ve done my best to avoid the rest of them, sir,� the Bothan gruffed as he scanned the nav system screen.

�Well, after today, I think you�ll find a new appreciation for our �glorious� Empire�or what�s left of it. They�re about to make you very rich.� His smirk grew even wider under his bionic visor as he noted the viewshields again. �Well, speak of the devil��

Czethros, Jober, and the rest of the ship�s crew watched the black void warp and bend and, faster than any of them could blink, found themselves gaping at four Victory-class Star Destroyers hovering before them in a latilation Imperial diamond formation.

Jober�s fur immediately began rippling wildly as he anxiously moaned, �Boss�?� The Aqualish known as Ca�ckalo shifted nervously in the co-pilot�s chair, his lip sacs flapping in the breeze of his nervous breathing. Trodeccu the Wookiee growled low in his throat. All other crewmembers either hurriedly turned away from the view or sat gaping at the immense warships before them, stunned and frightened. It seemed the only one unaffected by the ships� presence was Czethros, who hadn�t moved a centimeter from his lax position.

�Will everyone please just fuckielaxelax?� Czethros snapped from his chair. As he swirled his drink in his glass he groaned, �I swear, I�m surrounded by a bunch of ponsy Nubian hairdressers��

Ca�ckalo turned to Czethros behind him. �Sir, they�re hailing us,� he croaked in broken Basic.

�Open a channel.�

A hologram of a human male, dressed in full crisp Imperial naval uniform and seemingly in his thirties, appeared before Czethros� chair. �Captain Rhys of the Imperial Destroyer Imprimatur. You will hereby identify yourselves.�

If Czethros had had any eyes, he surely would have rolled them. �Oh, for the love of�� he muttered under his breath before donning a brilliant, charming smile. �Baron Junius bon Czethros of the starship Dama Fortuna. I believe Grand Admiral Daala is expecting our arrival�?�

Although the Captain�s face remained frigidly impassive, Czethros couldn�t help but detect, with subdued amusement, the unreserved distaste for himself and his crew in the Imperial officer�s voice. �Affirmative,� the Captain replied stiffly. �The Admiral has commanded that we escort your vessel to the Installation by tractor beam. You are hereby ordered to shut down all repulsor and weapon systems immediately.�

�Oh,� Czethros huffed casually, lazily waving his black-gloved hand, �is that really necessary? I assure you, Captain Rhys, our visit to the Maw Installation is nothing more than a peaceful business venture��

�You will follow all orders without further argument or question, Baron,� Rhys interjected in a threatening monotone, adding, �Or you will be boarded, imprisoned, and executed by order of Grand Admiral Daala.� He raised one eyebrow. �Is that understood?�

Czethros� grin melted just slightly as he lightly bowed his head. �Perfectly, Captain Rhys.� Downing the remainder of his glass, he waved to Jober. �You heard the man.� Jober narrowed his eyes and set his jaw firm as he glared at Czethros momentarily before turning back to the console and shutting down all systems, save for communications and life-support.

�You will be hailed with further instructions. Prepare for beam engagement. Rhys out.� The hologram snapped off. The Dama Fortuna jerked before the captain and its crew heard the low bass hum of the Imprimatur�s tractor beam and felt the powerful clutch of its tractor beam. As As the ship and its hulking escort drifted forward at sub-light speed, Jober leaned back in the pilot�s seat and folded his furred arms over his vest. �And you wonder why I don�t like the Imps?� he muttered.

�Intimidation is one of the few ons ons they have left, my friend� Czethros drawled as he rose from his ain�ain�s chair and sauntered toward the viewport. �They are merely trying to frighten us.�

The Bothan blew a snort out of his muzzle. �It�s working.�

A low chuckle emanated from the Supreme Vigo�s throat as he sidled up beside the uneasy Bothan, once again donning a darkly satisfied smile. �Relax, Jober,� he crooned in a soothing baritone, the red dot of light rapidly skidding across his visor as he stared out the viewport. �We were invited.�

Czethros could practically feel his crew�s fear throb against his neck as the ship was pulled further toward its destination. He chose to ignore it, focusing rather on the array of craggy, lifeless planetoids emerging from the starless horizon and realizing that this was, truly, the highly classified Maw Installation. As they drew ever closer in their escort�s grip, he began to make out thousands of lit windows twinkling from within the jutting surfaces. All around the planetoids, a seemingly endless hoard of TIE fighters swarmed about them, as well as numerous frigates, freighters, shuttles, and various other Imperial-class starships.

�What do you think of that one?� Czethros asked, gesturing to one of their Destroyer escorts.

Jober glanced at the warship and scowled. �What do you mean, what do I think?�

�How do you think I�d look in that? Do you think it comes with leather seats?�

�What are you doing, Czethros?�

�Oh�� Czethros sighed, nonchalantly adjusting his expensive black gloves, �just window shopping.�

�Boss,� Jober said warily, furrowing his furred brow, �I get the feeling there�s something you haven�t told me. Whae yoe you up to?�

Czethros�s only response was a turn of his head toward his Bothan capo and an icy, cunning grin.

They seemed to be honing in on one planetoid in particular, the largest one in the grouping. As they approached it, a long, thin line of dazzling white light slowly parted the surfaceace ace like a sinister smile, revealing the maw of its hangar bay. The Dama Fortuna jerked again as it was transferred from one tractor beam to another�

* * *

Daala�s aides stood awaiting her in the antechamber of her ready room as she came through the door. She stood, tall and stoic, as a junior officer handed her a pair of black gloves. Another laid her formal Imperial dress cape over her shoulders and clasped it to the epaulets of her uniform. Pulling the gloves onto her hands, she raised a cold glance to the aged officer standing directly in front of her. �Report, Pellaeon.�

Admiral Pellaeon acknowledged the presence of his superior officer with a curt nod before replying, �The escort has rendezvoused with the Dama Fortuna and are towing her into the main hangar bay as we speak.�

�Have the vessel scanned for explosives and her captain and crew searched for weapons before disembarking. If they do not fully cooperate, give order to fire at will with blasters set on kill.�

�Yes, sir.� Pellaeon turned to his flanking captain. �Relay the Admiral�s orders to the hangar squad.�

�Yes, sir.� The captain abruptly saluted his superiors before exiting the room.

Admiral Daala ran a quick scan over herself, ensuring that she appeared the very model of stark Imperial efficiency, force, and suppression. �Admiral, you will accompany me to meet with our�guests.�

�Of course, Admiral Daala.� With that Daala, Pellaeon, and the rest of her uniformed entourage walked through the door into the black metal corridors, where their roundabout awaited to take them to their destination.

* * *

�Is this entirely necessary?� Czethros asked with as much diplomacy and patience as he could muster as he stood with his arms raised. The stormtrooper ignored him as his hands reached and grabbed at every pocket, seam, bulge, and crease in Czethros�s clothing. He turned to see the rest of his crew in similar compromising positions in the hold, all bent with their feet spread and their hands on the bulkhead, each with their own personal stormtrooper searching them.

The uniformed Imperial in charge of the Dama Fortuna�s search decided to answer Czethros�s question himself. �By order of Grand Admiral Daala, Baron.�

The high-pitched yelp of the Bothan suddenly barked off the bulkhead of the Dama Foa�s a�s main hold. �Hey, WATCH THE HANDS!� he snarled as he snapped his jaws at the stormtrooper searching him. His outburst was immediately answered by the clacking of several blaster rifles aimed directly at his head�

�Jober! DOWN!� Czethros growled. Jober instantly backed down, raising his paws once more into the air and glaring vicioust tht the troops aiming at him. Czethros turned his bionic visor to the Imperial in charge. �Sir, please. He is my second bod bodyguard, and hence unused to this sort of treatment. I assure you,� he said as he shot a warning glance at the Bothan, �he will comply to all demands. Won�t you, Jober?�

Setting his jaw, Jober grimaced and answered with a brusque nod. At that very moment, the stormtrooper performing the search pulled a small vibroblade from out of the back of Jober�s pants, presenting it to the Imperial. Jober�s furry shoulders slumped just slightly under the Imperial�s piercing gaze. �For self-defense. A gift from my mother,� he muttered.

Another stormtrooper came around them, carrying a large bin brimming with blasters and blades they had confiscated from the rest of Czethros�s crew. Jober�s stormtrooper tossed his vibroblade on top of the pile. �That�s the last of them.�

�And the scan?� the officer queried.

�Clean, sir. No other explosives or detonators onboard save for the ship�s defense systems. Those have been disengaged.�

The officer nodded, then turned to Czethros. �You will remain within the hold until given signal to disembark. Your weapons will be returned to you when you leave,� the Imperial stated: Both Czethros and Jober heard hdd, dd, under his breath, �IF you leave��

�Thank you, Lieutenant,� Czethros expressed with false jocularity, bowing slightly at the waist. �On behalf on my crew, I would like to express our most humble gratitude for your thoroughness and hospitality so far.� The Lieutenant shot him a look of unrepressed malice as he motioned the troopers to file out into the bay.

As they watched the troopers clank down the ramp, Jober moved to Czethros�s side, adjusting his clothing with irritated jerks, his pelt rippling wildly. �This had better be worth all this, Boss.�

�It will be. Oh, it will be.� Czethros stood just within the arch of the ship�s ramp, peering out into the hangar as squads of troops and officers marched into the bay. Taking their formations on the floor and the bay�s catwalks, music suddenly blared through bay�bay�s loudspeakers, and Czethros�s recognized it as the Imperial anthem. Several score of stormtroopers lined up in the middle of the bay, creating a corridor from the ship�s ramp. Once they had taken their positions, all troops and officers snapped their heads in unison toward the receiving platform located at the far end of the bay.

Amidst the rousing Imperial fanfare, a human woman ascended the platform from a rear staircase, flanked by an entourage of high-ranking Imperial officers. The thing Czethros noted immediately was that her uniform was of a slightly different design than those who stood around her; instead of wearing the typical jacket and wide-paneled trousers, she instead wore a one-piece uniform resembling a fighter pilot�s flak suit with a matching dress cape pinned back at the shoulder. She was very tall for a woman, reaching a height over one-point-eight meters and as lean as a reed, with square shoulders tapering into a slender t ant and slim hips. Hair the color of melted copper was pulled back into a severe bun at the stiff collar of her dress cape. Her features were stark, angular, and severe with eyes that scowled frigidly from under heavily arched brows---not unpleasant, but hardly what Czethros would call �beautiful��

�You think that�s her?� Jober asked into his ear.

�No, Jober,� Czethros snarled sardonically as he watched her assume her place in the center of the platform, �that�s some other statuesque female Imperial Admiral. There�s so many of them running about��

Jober ignored his employer�s sarcasm. �Handsome woman,� he growled with just the slightest ignoble intent in his voice.

�Mmmm,� Czethros hummed through his nose, irritated by his second�s penchant for human females.

�But a cold-looking bitch.�

�What did you expect? That the supreme commander of a secret Imperial military installation would be a Twi�leki dancing girl?� He chuckled slightly at own own joke, adding, �Besides, I would guess a good tumble in the sheets would defrost her rather quickly.�

�Good luck with that,� Jober snorted. He let a few seconds drift by before he finally voiced what had been on his mind the whole trip. �What if she doesn�t go for it, Boss?�

�She�ll go for it.�

�What if she doesn�t?� Jober pressed.

Czethros paused, folding his arms and turning slightly. A strange, small, almost frightening smile spread across his lips as hmplymply stated, �Then, my hirsute friend�we don�t leave here alive��

As Daala took her position on the platform, so did Pellaeon at her side. The two stood silent as they perused the vessel docked before them and its captain waiting at the top of the ramp for his signal to disembark.

Admiral Pellaeon, like the Bothan at the other end of the bay, also felt the need to voice his own concerns. �Sir. Permission to speak freely?� he asked quietly, squaring his shoulders.

Daala still held the Dama Fortuna in her icy glare as she said, �Granted, Admiral.�

He took a deep breath before he spoke. �No one understands that this is, indeed, a dim hour for our glorious Empire more than I, Admiral. But�I cannot believe that we are in such dire straights as to dirty our hands with such�scum.� He drew himself to his fullest height. �I believe where there�s a will, there�s a way. And if our will is strong enough, we can certainly find a way to solve our shortage problems without having to consort with� filthy gangsters.�

�Your concerns have been duly noted, Admiral,� Daala replied calmly, still staring straight ahead. �But a question comes to mind. Would you be so inclined to freely express your concerns about my judgment if I were, say, Lord Vader?� Silence. Her eyes broke from away to glance sideways at the older man. �I�m waiting for your answer, Admiral.�

Pellaeon felt his heart pound and his neck tighten. Gazing straight ahead, he answered softly, �No, sir.�

�No, of course not. Because if I were Lord Vader�you would be dead right now.� Her voice remained regal, soft, and prosaic as she continued. �But since I am not, I can only leave you with a warning: Doubt my leadership again, and I will have you court-martialed and executed for treason.� It was only then she turned to him. �Your Imperial career has been nothing short of stellar, Pellaeon, and I consider you my most trusted and capable officer. It would wound me to lose you over something as trivial as�a case of nerves.�

Pellaeon drew himself to his fullest height, still vast centimeters shorter than that of his female superior. �Yes, sir,� he responded without a hint of the resentment and intimidation coursing through him.

Daala nodded curtly to the officer standing vigil at the Dama Fortuna�s ramp, who in turn then motioned to the party inside. �The Adm is is ready to receive you.�

Czethros tugged at his gloves, straightened his gem-encrusted rings, checked his breath, centered the massive jewel pinned at his throat, sniffed his wrists to ensure his expensive cologne was still aromatic, and flashed a dazzling smile to his crew. �Gentlemen �prepare to be a part of galactic history.�

He strode down the ramp with a gallant sweep, ensuring the two-meter train of his luxuriant full-length, ruff-collared black fur coat caught the breeze he had created. Keeping in perfect beat with the Imperial anthem blaring from the speakers, he confidently strutted down the aisle the troopers hreatreated. Flanking behind him were Jober, Ca�ckalo the Aqualish, Trodeccu the Wookiee, and Splitter the Snivvian, all mimicking his pace, if not his confidence.

As he approached the receiving platform, he spread his arms wide in a gesture of fabricated warmth and kinship. His smile grew to almost distorted proportions as he bellowed heartily, �Admiral Daala!�
aspiasping her hands behind her back, Daala moved to the front of the platform and stiffly descended the small staircase. �Baron Junius bon Czethros of Ord Mantell, I presume?�

�In the flesh,� Czethros sang. Stopping before her in precise accord with the anthem�s end, he tossed the side of his coat over his hip and struck a swaggering pose. �On behalf of my entire organization,� he swept his arm across the party of surly-looking aliens standing behind him, �I would like to extend my deepest and humblest thanks for your hospitality this day.� He stretched his hand forward. Daala eyed it with dubious hesitation before offering hers to be shaken. Czethros took her hand, gallantly bowing low at the waist, intending to plant a chivalrous kiss upon it�

And was instantly surrounded by a dozen stormtroopers, all aiming the muzzles of their rifles directly at his head.

Evenly, Daala stated in an imperious monotone, �I suggest you don�t do that.�

Still beCzetCzethros slowly craned his neck from sid sid side, peering into the blasters� barrels, before donning a vanquished smile and surrendering her hand. �As you wish, my Lady.�

�Admiral,� Daala corrected with icy clarity as she peered down at him.

Czethros rose and cleared his throat. �Admiral,� he repeated. The Grand Admiral of the Maw Installation and the Supreme Vigo of Black Sun stood silent for a few moments, their eyes scanning over the other, sizing one another up.

Finally, Daala broke the quiet. �I�m sure your men are rather fatigued after such a journey. We have laid refreshment for them in the receiving room. They will reside there until after our conference.�

�But of course, Admiral.�

�We will meet in my ready room. If you will follow me, Baron.� She turned on a highly polished heel and made her way back up the staircase.

Czethros took a step toward the stairs when he felt Jober�s paw on his shoulder. �I don�t like this one bit, Boss,� the Bothan whispered in his ear. He threw a nervous glance at the departing Admiral before adding, �Just watch your ass in there.�

�Jober,� Czethros whispered back, once again donning his arrogant smirk, �I will leave you with this thought; ponder it while I�m gone. The Empire ruled with terror. The New Republic rules with ideals. But the only real supremacy in this universe is MONEY.� His grin grew wider. �And I have plenty of that.�

With a sweep of his fur coat and glint of light off his teeth, Czethros swept up the staircase behind the Admiral, leaving an anxiously skeptic Bothan to be scuttled out of the hangar with his equally anxious alien cronies.

* * *

�Please Baron, sit and be comfortable,� Daala dryly offered as they entered her ready room.

Czethros stole a quick assessment of the chamber: Austere, crisp, and angular, right down to the furnishings and art. Just like her, he mused.

She made her way around her desk, unclasping the dress cape from her epaulets. �May I offer you anything?�

�Oh, no, Admiral,� Czethros said, easing himself into the large yet rigid chair.

�Food? Drink?� she asked as she hung her cape on a wall hook.

�Really, I�m fine.�

She turned and stood stiffly, clasping her hands behind her back. �Then what do you want?�

�I just told you, Admiral, I am quite content��

�That�s not what I meant and you know it.� All ctatctation of hospitality and grace were gone, replaced by nothing less than frigid stipulation as Daala glared at Czethros in his r.
r.

Czethros locked her glare in his own bionic gaze, and once again, his arrogant smirk found its way to his lips. �Precise, direct, and to the point without an air of pretense. Oh�I like you already, Admiral.�

�This inane bootlicking is growing tiresome, Czethros,� she snapped irritably. �I needn�t remind you that you have risked your most certain demise by venturing here��

�And I needn�t remind you, Admiral, that you agreed to grant me audience after receiving my message from my agents. Which leads me to believe that you have at least some shred of interest in what I have to say. So you�re right�let�s dispense with the pleasantries and proceed.�

Daala, unaccustomed to being addressed so tersely, paused briefly, then moved to seat herself in her chair. Folding her hands just under her chest, she asked again, �What do you want?�

Czethros leaned back in his own chair, casually crossing his legs as he answered, almost kindly, �I want to help.�

�Help?� Daala repeated. It was her turn to smirk this time. �And what makes you think the Empire needs your help?�

�Because if you didn�t, you would have blasted us out of the stars the second we came through the hyperspace gate,� Czethros countered firmly. �Instead, we were met by an Imperial escort. Nice touch, by the way.� He rose from his chair. �Really, Admiral, this hostility is ungrounded. I come here with the proverbial mu tree branch in my hand, as an ambassador of peace and prosperity, and as a loyal compatriot of the glorious Galactic Emp�
�

�Since when has any vigo of Black Sun been a loyal citizen of the Empire?� Daala scoffed.

Czethros shrugged lightly. �Granted, the Empire and my organization have� had our differences in the past. Especially with that ridiculous feud between my predecessor, Prince Xizor, and yours, Lord Vader, but� that�s exactly what it is, my dear Admiral; the PAST.� He came forward to lightly sit on the edge of Daala�s desk, adjusting his fur coat to drape across his legs. �What can possibly be gained by continuing to feed old animosities? Each side represented here has their strengths and weaknesses: I propose we cast off our former acrimony, join forces in the name of brotherhood, and watch our strengths proliferate while our weaknesses dwindle into oblivion.�

Daala leaned back in her chair, her eyes tapering into slits of cold emerald fire. �And what could you possibly offer us that we don�t already have?�

�How about FOOD for one thing?� Czethros snapped. Pulling a datapad from his coat�s inside pocket, he continued as he read the pad�s content. �This installation�s hydroponics facilities can only produce enough sustenance to nourish its original 180,000 inhabitants�the Maw Installation is now currently housing over two million Imperial refugees. According to this information, you will run out of food in less than three standard months. You are also dangerously low on medical supplies, and are currently suffering a vast fuel shortage: Meaning, not only will you run out of fuel for your fleet, but also for your life-support systems. Desertions are at an all time high, and you�ve cut off the homing signal to the remnant of the Imperial fleet two months ago because you simply can NOT afford to take anyone else in.�

Daala�s cool demeanor suddenly vaporized as she lunged forward and tried to snatch the datapad from Czethros�s hand. �How did you get this information?� she hissed.

Czethros�s hand was faster as he pulled it away. �I know, it�s disturbing,� he said with mocking compassion. �It�s utterly disgusting, they way information can be brokered to and fro like so much snuff in trying times.� His mockery became replaced with haughty gravity. �Your Installation, like your Empire, is dying, Daala. And what is the sad irony of it all? That you have trillions of credits lying in old Imperial accounts that are absolutely worthless. Since the Banking Guild has sworn their allegiance to those snot-nosed Rebel scum that hail themselves as the New Republic, no banking institution in the galaxy will touch you.� He rose from the desk, planting himself firmly in front of the Admiral, raised his arms in a kindly gesture and flashed a brilliantly loathsome smile. �NO bank, of course�except mine.�

Daala froze briefly, clenching her eyes before slowly leaning back into her chair and taking a deep breath. There was no point in denying these facts. She met Czethros�s bionic stare. �I�m listening,� she muttered with a wavering lilt of defeat in her voice.

Savoring this first small taste of triumph, Czethros sauntered back to his chair and sat down. �I offer you, Admiral Daala, my services as the Empire�s Financial Czar. I am willing to take those credin yon your accounts and, through my various business dealings, exchange them for viable Republic currency.�

�You mean launder them through your casinos,� she countered flatly.

Czethros winced. ��Launder� is such an ugly term. I prefer �solid investments with high returns.� He crossed his legs. �As Imperial Financial Czar, I will then be the prime liaison in all deals of trading. You will purchase all supplies through me�food, medicine, uniforms and clothing, fuel, even shipyard time �all under the protective front of my various companies. And the Imperial treasury will be safeguarded from any Republic threat in the warm, cozy bosom of my banking institutions on Ord Mantell which, as you well know, are operated outside of the Banking Guild.�

Daala paused before replying, �In other words, the Empire would be in your pocket.�

�On the contrary, Admiral,� Czethros corrected smoothly, �This would all be a temporary arrangement. I would hold this position only until the Empire was back, as it were, on its glorious feet. When you have taken back what is rightfully yours, I would then hand all control of the treasury and its components back to you and your constituents. For then, I would surmise, the Banking Guild would, through the Empire�s own unique brand of �persuasion�, have seen the errors of its waywardness and sworn its fealty to you once again.�

The Admiral huffed a chortle through her nose. �Quite the munificent offer, Baron. I had no idea your loyalty to the Empire ran so deep.� Clasping her hands once again, she looked fiercely at Czethros. �What�s in it for you?�

�Oh,� Czethros gasped lightly, placing his hand on his heart as though he�d been shot. �Such cynicism! But you are correct, Admiral. Alas, as much as it would warm my soul just knowing I have played a substantial role in restoring our beloved Empire to its former glory�and beyond�I do require � minimum reward.� He rose and sauntered elegantly over to admire a particularly interesting piece of art hanging on the dark gray wall. �It�s nothing, really�a pittance.� He snapped his head over his shoulder as he blurted, �Ten percent exchange rate.�

�Ten percent?� Daala repeated. She raised an eyebrow. �Ten percent of trillions would warm your coffers nicely, Czethros. And yet, it is a fair exchange�almost too fair.� She lowered her brow as well as her voice. �Why do I get the feeling that�s not all you want?�

�Because, Admiral, you are an astute woman as well as a powerful one.� He turned away from the art to face her. �Ten percent exchange rate�and a Victory-class Star Destroyer with full military complement.�

For the first time since their conference began, Daala momentarily found herself at a loss for words. When she realized she was sitting there with her mouth agape, she shook herself from her stupor. �You�re joking.�

�I assure you, my dear Admiral, I am quite serious. I can also assure you that you will be paid most handsomely for it.�

�You want to BUY a fully regimented Star Destroyer,� she said dully.

�Well,� Czethros replied, lightly tossing his hands up, �I was more thinking leasing with option to buy��

Suddenly and very unexpectedly, Daala began to laugh. Softly at first, but soon her low, husky peals rang off the harsh steel walls of her ready room. Czethros outwardly remained still and poised; while inwardly he fought with everything he had not to backhand the arrogant bitch across the face, as he would normally do with any woman who laughed at him�

Finally, sniffing deeply as she composed herself, Daala shot a look of pure malice mixed with utter disdain at the Supreme Vigo. �What, Czethros, making the transition from crime lord to warlord? Pushing drugs and pimping not as lucrative as it once was?�

Czethros gritted his sparkling teeth and hid the fist forming in the sleeve of his lavish coat as he forced his charismatic smile back to its former intensity. �Those days are behind me, Daala,� he crooned in a satin-draped lie. �This is a time for rebirth, new beginnings. I no longer desire nor need to dirty my hands with such�disreputable dealings. I aspire to something greater, something loftier�something more� respectable.� His tone became low and severe. �And it means I bring something else to the table, so I humbly ask you to keep your humor in check whilst you hear me out.�

�What possible reason would you have to acquire such a vessel, Czethros?�

�The reason leads me to the second component of my offer, Admiral.� Once again, he made his way to her desk, setting both gloved palms upon its gleaming surface and leaning forward. �With such a vessel under my command, it would be that much easier to obtain my �and your�primary goal in this affair, the �crown jewel� as it were of my bountiful offer, which is�� He couldn�t help but pause dramatically for maximum effect, �the Dia-Orri system.�

Daala�s incredulous smirk instantly melted, and Czethros, for the first time, saw a flicker of intense interest in her cold jade eyes. �The durasteel mining system.�

�Yes Admiral, the very backbone of the Empire�s building industry.� Czethros straightened himself to his full imposing height, hooking a thumb into the pocket of his expensive embroidered vest. His tone became subdued and unyielding as he met the Admiral�s eyes oagaiagain. �Once the Empire has regained its vigor, then comes the daunting task of rebuilding its fleet. How do you presume to do that, Admiral, when over fifty percent of your durasteel ore requirements came from a lone system now allied with the New Republic? The answer to that is quite simple.� His lips curled into a tight, almost sinister smile. �Let me take it.� The smile grew wider. �Give me the governor�s seat, and I guarantee the Empire will have enough durasteel to build a fleet ten times greater than it has ever known.�

Daala paused, glancing briefly to the gleaming top of her desk, before snapping her gaze back to Czethros. �Go on.�

Smelling blood in the water, he continued. �I�ve even made it easy for you.� Taking out the datapad again, he pressed a series of buttons and turned the screen toward the Admiral�s view. �I not only have full records of shipping rosters, but surveillance vids of Orri Prime�s security patrols�or lack thereof. They�re only defense right now are five decrepit X-wing fighters, and a handful of outdated Z-95s: Obviously, the Rebels feel their security forces are needed elsewhere. And it seems they�re having a few problems obtaining vital parts for their satellite defense systems.� He sniffed lightly. �Pity.�

�And I�m sure you had nothing to do with that, eh, Czethros?� Daala queried with husky sarcasm.

He grinned. �Again, you are an perceptive woman, Admiral.� He regarded her for a moment: She had relaxed her staunch posture as she listened to him, even leaning on the chair�s arm and leaning her cheek into her hand. A small smile had even made its way to her lips. Oh, so close, so very close�Czethros mustered every shred of discipline he had to keep from busting right there! He reveled that this redheaded razorshark of an Admiral was circling around his hook�

�What of their ground forces?�

�Laughable,� he snorted. �According to my sources, they are nothing more than a handful of semi-literate former slaves who couldn�t find the business end of a blaster with both hands.�

He leaned forward on the desk again, snaring Daala�s gaze into the red blip of his visor. �One battle-ready warship,� he whispered smoothly, �with a fully regimented TIE squadron and a stormtrooper brigade. I�ve done all the calculations: We could take the system in a matter of hours.�

Her expression darkened somewhat. �Have you taken the Rebels into account here?� Daala asked. �They would launch a counter attack almost immediately.�

�Daala,� Czethros murmured in jovial admonishment, �do you really think I haven�t thought this through? How would Orri Prime reach the Rebels�without any communications?� Again, the malicious grin. �The very first thing we would do, of course, is destroy every interstellar com satellite in orbit. It would be DAYS before the Rebellion would evet wit wind of it, and by that time�we would be fully entrenched with reinforcements.�

She stared at him briefly, then shook her head. �I don�t know, Czethros. Taking an entire system with only one Destroyer��

�One is all I need, Daala. Have you ever heard the expression, �candy from a baby�? There is no reason to waste your precious resources on something as� straightforward and undemanding as this. By Force, this campaign would be no more challenging than basic training.� He paused, watching the Admiral. She sat motionless, her eyes cast slightly downward, as she was deep in thought, her fingertips tracing idly upon the desktop. So close to biting�it was time to tug the line: �Let me take it back for you. Allow me to be your Hand. Everything I offer will be yours, I swear it. All I need is that Destroyer. With my wealth and your might, there would be no stopping us!� Pause. �It is the first step to a glorious renaissance, Daala. The rebirth of the Empire�YOUR Empire�by your own hand.� His cards were all laid out, save for the trump, which he now dared to pull as he stated softly, almost tenderly, �Tarkin would have wanted you to have it.�

Her eyes snapped up, and the red hue flushed up from her collar to spread across her pale triangular face. She took a breath as if to retort, deny, anything�but then stopped. At this moment, it didn�t matter how he knew about Wilhuff. Czethros was right�Tarkin would have wanted her to carry on, to enforce the mighty Tarkin Doctrine, to take the Empire in his place, just as he was about to take it from Palpatine�

She glanced up at the Baron. �Do you have a global map of Orri Prime�s installations on that pad?�

�In full three dimensional relief, Admiral, of course.�

�Then sit.� She touched a button on the desk, and the screen of her viewer slowly rose from the desktop. �Though your zeal is admirable, Baron, you are a military novice. Therefore, we will formulate a battle plan together��

�Does this mean you accept, Admiral?� Czethros interjected.

Again, those eyes of frozen emerald bore into his visor, and with an expression as cool and stoic as her tone, Daala answered, �Yes, Baron. The Empire accepts your offer of fealty.�

* * *

The alien band of Czethros�s henchman was shuffled back into the hangar bay just as unceremoniously and gruffly as they had been shuffled out but Jober, the renegade Bothan was glad for it. The last four hours of pacing back and forth in the receiving chamber had taken a toll of his already-frayed nerves as much as it had on the chamber�s durasteel floor.

As they entered the bay, Jober looked to the ceremonial platform as the others made their way back to the ramp of the Dama Fortuna. He exhaled in relief when he saw Czethros, still alive and breathing, ascending the platform from the rear, accompanied by the tall, redheaded Admiral Daala. He watched them exchange a few words, and then scowled when Czethros actually performed the Imperial salute, which was immediately mirrored by Daala herself. Czethros then broke away, descending the platform onto the hangar floor. Jober instantly moved to meet him.

�What the hell took you so long!� Jober hissed quietly, shooting a nervous glare at Daala. �What�s going on, Czethros?�

�That�s �General Czethros�, Jober,� Czethros replied with a triumphant smile. He reached to the lapel of his luxurious coat, peeling it back to reveal the bar insignia of Imperial General pinned there. He forced himself to hold back laughter, as he thought for a second he would have to help his Bothan second pick his jaw up off the floor.

�Czethros�what the fu��

�Come with me.� He took the Bothan�s furry arm and casually strolled past the Dama Fortuna toward the mouth of the bay. They stopped and with a grand sweep of his arm, Czethros announced, �Let me introduce you to our new ride home.�

Jober turned his confused glare out the portal�to see the colossal monstrosity of the Imprimatur hovering just outside the hangar bay.

Suddenly, his Bothan brain clicked and whirred, and everything finally fell into place. He turned to Czethros and breathed, �That�s what this was all about. You�re taking Orri Prime.�

�No, Jober�we�re taking Orri Prime.� It was then Czethros began to laugh�a loud, hedonistic laugh brimming with triumph and wickedness that ricocheted off the cold steel ceiling.

Jober joined him in a guffaw of howls and snorts. He thumped his huge paws on Czethros�s shoulders. �You sick, twisted son of a bitch!� he howled uproariously. �You got balls the size of Death Stars! I worship you!�

�You would be the first of trillions, my friend.� He slung his arm around Jober�s shoulders and leaned in close as he lead them back to the ramp of their ship. �Destiny awaits us, calling us home! The Empire is hobbling on broken stubs, and it will be years before this ridiculous �Republic� can wean itself off Leia Organa�s velvet teat. In six months time�� he crooned, a smile of sheer malevolence twisting his lips under his bionic visor, �who do you think will be running this galaxy�?�

��

And as they laughed in the exhilaration of their glorious coup, little did they know that somewhere, out in an uncharted part of the Outer Rim, on a world of death slumbering under a sky of rage, in a palace built on the bones of millennia-dead slaves and mortared with their blood, a tattooed Lord of the Sith laughed with them�
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The Fett Dynasty II: Siege of Orri Prime