OBT Forum

“Thom, are you certain this is what you want?” Kell asked softly.  The newly appointed Grand Admiral of the Fleet wore standard Imperial Greys—he and Thom and bel Iblis had decided that a separate uniform was unnecessary for the highest rank in the new Union military structure.  Only the insignia had changed.  Kell had balked at the promotion, however, even thought it represented all that he had ever desired—complete and total authority over all of the Consolidated Armed Forces of the Rim, answering only to the Lord Steward and the newly convened Union Senate. 

“You know why we went down this course, Thom.  To keep Cyralis safe.  That has been done.  I am content at being Moff of the Cyralis Sector—I don’t need the vanity of being Lord Steward.”

“You did accept the nomination for Deputy Steward, however—which makes you not only a Moff, but gives you the tie-breaking vote in the Senate.  And bel Iblis’s successor if anything happens to him.”

“A vote that will only be counted if there is a tie, Kell.  And yes, it is imperative that we have an official and recognized line of succession—that’s what got us into this entire mess when the Emperor died to begin with.  Not even the New Republic has clarified who would take over if Mon Mothma died; they would have to elect a new Chief of State—I believe that is the title she finally settled upon.  But since I really don’t want the job, I’m glad that I could talk you into taking up Garm’s offer to hammer the CAF into one unified force.”

Kell sighed.  “Damn if I wouldn’t feel better if you were in charge—but I know why you did this.  At least the Lord Steward isn’t as much of an idealist as I feared.”

Thom laughed.  “He’s Corellian!  A Corellian idealist?  Come on, Kell.  That would be akin to a . . . Bothan philanthropist.  Or a kinder, gentler Lord of the Sith.  Just you hammer the CAF into shape and fast—this war is far from over, I fear.”

“Aye.  Kaine—and just about every Warlord out there—has declared us Rebels and Traitors, and announced that would reduce the Union to charred cinders.  And the Rebels?” he shook his head.

“New Republic, Kell,” Thom chided.  “The New Republic is waiting to see if we fall apart so that they can swoop in and remove the last trappings of Imperial rule from our worlds.  Oh, Mon Mothma did the only thing she could when she made that announcement recognizing our independence and congratulating her comrade-in-arms bel Iblis on his tireless efforts at ‘freeing’ the Twi’lek, but never forget she wants us to fail.  We are a threat to her dream of restoring the Republic across the entire Galaxy.”

“I understand that Borsk Fey’lya was furious—he feels that the Lord Steward has betrayed him.  And he doesn’t like that we might potentially wind up sitting on the border of Bothan space.”

Thom smiled.  “He’s a dangerous player, Kell—he knows the game well.  Tell your analysts not to underestimate him—or his spies.”

Kell nodded and he looked around at the space-port that had been his home for so many years.  “I cannot believe that you suggested that the new government capital be established so far from here.  Cyralis is far better protected—with fewer attack routes inbound—than Naboo.”

“Cyralis is a bit player on the stage—Naboo, like Garm bel Iblis—brings us respect and legitimacy on the Galactic level, Kell.  And yes, there is but a single hyperlane charted to Cyralis—but that cuts both ways.  Naboo will serve us well as the capital—and the native Gungans will show the Galaxy that we are SERIOUS about equal rights for all.”

“More than Ryloth already has?”

Thom grinned.  The Twi’leks on Ryloth had accepted the offer made by bel Iblis—authored by Thom—whole-heartedly.  No Union forces remained on Ryloth, although one of Kell’s squadrons protected the orbitals, and they were quickly rebuilding their homeworld.  The slave traders had been taken into custody and public trials rapidly convened, broadcasting their crimes and sentences to the entire Galaxy.  They hadn’t joined the Union—but then the unthinkable (from Mon Mothma’s viewpoint) had occurred; they hadn’t joined the New Republic either.  Instead, the government on Ryloth had declared their independence as a Free System—and Garm had immediately recognized them and pledged Union aid to defend them.

And while the Galaxy at large was not aware that it had been THOM who funneled aid and arms to the Twi’lek rebels on Ryloth, the new government there knew it well. 

“They will have a stroke when our latest announcement goes out, Kell.  You aren’t upset about losing some of your men to the reformed Union Rangers, are you?”

“No,” the Grand Admiral said with a grin.  “I’ve always said that the Fleet shouldn’t be charged with enforcing the law—just keeping the peace and winning wars.  I’m damn grateful you and bel Iblis are pushing to convert the Sector Rangers into a true national law enforcement program.”

That had been one of the areas were Garm and Thom had seen perfectly eye-to-eye.  The underfunded, understrength Sector Rangers had existed since the days of the Old Republic—and even Palpatine had mostly left them alone.  But they had never had the budgets to make a difference, as the Republic had relied on the Jedi Knights and the Empire upon the Fleet.

Sweeping changes were now in the works, and the existing structure of the Rangers was receiving an influx of funding and new ships and recruits—their mission to enforce the laws of the Union.  To put an end to the slave trade.  To curtail smuggling.  And the criminal elements which had free reign for so long in the Empire and Old Republic before it were soon to become endangered species.

No, the syndicates and the Hutts were not at all pleased with either Thom or Garm bel Iblis over this.

“All we need is time, Kell,” Thom whispered as he clasped the hand of his friend.  “Just a little time with peace on these worlds, and we will transform the Galaxy.”

“Ask of me what you will and it shall be granted; all save time, for time is the one thing that no man can grant,” Kell quoted an ancient General of the Old Republic.

Thom sighed.  “True.  Your ship—your Fleet—is waiting, Grand Admiral Morvin.”

“Take care, Thom,” Kell said with a firm nod.  And then, without another word, he turned and marched to his shuttle.

Wonderful!

I like the way you closed it off - sort of  - but it would have been such a giggle to end it with Mon Mothma's near heart attack.

...Yes!  The Scorpio Ascendant story could be finished.

...Or, I could pass along the specifics of my AU...

I finally had the opportunity to finish reading this. I'm sad it's finished. Seems to me like it was just getting started... ::sad face::