The Final Judgment/Part II: The Commander

"They're retreating, Captain," a midshipman called up from the port side of the crew deck.

Seated in his command chair in the middle, Aren Teff nodded. "Not unexpected. Updates?"

"We're reading the rest of the fleet still mobilizing, sir," the same officer confirmed after a brief conference with the enlisted spaceman seated beside her. "Not much starfighter activity, and mostly small capital ships. Nothing as big as the Keltrayu, let alone us."

Teff nodded, his calm face showing none of his internal relief. Often his fellow captains had had remarked on the invincibility he must feel, here on the bridge of the Sith Star, pride of the Prime Fleet, a leviathan of war. Far dwarfing its Imperial and Chiss Star Destroyer escorts, packed with every weapon the Empire had acquired in sixty-odd years of existence and who knew how long before then, the Sith Star could carve its way through an entire fleet and level a planet. As a young man, Teff himself had dreamed of what it must be like to sit in this chair and command the flagship of the Royal Navy.

He did not feel invincible.

He felt as if he was in a ship made of glass, as if the slightest error in command could drop that precious thing and shatter it irreparably. The Star was a behemoth, to be sure, her arsenal extensive, her shields and armored hull difficult to pierce for the strongest enemy, and her bafflingly labyrinthine circuitry redundant and convoluted enough that depriving much of the ship of power without destroying the reactor completely was almost impossible. But for all its strength, Teff could never quite convince himself the Sith Star was strong enough. Not with the burdens it carried within.

But Teff let none of those misgivings show. The Sith Star had been through far worse than this fleet, and the Prime Legate himself had entrusted this command to him. A wise tactician evaluated every situation carefully, but there was no room for hesitation.

"Move in," he commanded in his strong basso voice. "Deploy fighters, but keep them close. Don't let the Redblades go off exploring," he added dryly, and a few of the crew chuckled.

The stars drifted by as the Star drifted toward the distant world, Toriafas, right where the Expeditionary Library and the Empire's own probe had said it would be. Readouts had confirmed high technology and had tentatively speculated about lifesigns numbering in the billions.

"We're almost within firing range, sir," the midshipman noted after several quiet moments had passed. "The enemy ship is within the fold of the fleet."

"The Kritocracy ship," Teff corrected calmly. "They aren't the enemy yet."

"Yes sir," she acknowledged.

"The defense grid?"

"Looks like what the probe said," she noted, studying a readout on her subordinate's screen. "We're reading numerous artificial satellites with weapons emplacements, and the nearest moon has turbolaser batteries."

"Can we punch through?"

The thunderous, inhumanly deep voice filled the bridge effortlessly, and Captain Teff came to his feet, turning to the door. Prime Legate Sorrik was on his way in, his Royal Marine guards stopping at the door. Behind him were Centurions with their hoods up…and in their midst was Queen Rin. Teff prevented himself from automatically kneeling, but his left fist squeezed tight enough that the cybernetic limb sent some feedback into his shoulder.

"Your Majesty," he said respectfully. Her veiled head dipped in a slight nod, but she said nothing, so Teff followed Sorrik's dark eyes to the crew stations.

The crew were well-trained not to stop their work when their seniors joined them, and so the midshipman consulted with her subordinates before waving over their lieutenant. "We're still getting scans from the picket ships, sir," she explained, addressing herself to Sorrik now. "They're trying to assess the satellites' capabilities."

"A preliminary estimate will do for now," the Umdal rumbled back, settling himself into his command chair, positioned behind the captain's and specially reinforced to bear his weight.

After a moment more, the midshipman said, "It might be trouble for anything smaller than us, sir. Or for us, if we went in alone.  But all together, we seem to have superior firepower."

"We could clear out a lot of it," the RSC officer suggested from Teff's right. On most ships, the Starfighter Corps detachment was commanded by a lieutenant commander, perhaps as much as a colonel on a Star Destroyer. The Star's bridge officer was a commodore. "If they don't have much in the way of fighters, we could shred the turbolasers. They'll never be able to track us."

Sorrik considered, then shook his head. "Not yet. It may come to that, but keep them close for now.  Have they responded?"

Teff rotated his command chair to look above and behind himself, where the communications suite was set against the bridge wall. The lieutenant in command there caught his eye and shook his head. "Nothing, Your Honor. Not Orhyo, Basic, Cheunh…"

From the side, a gruff voice said, "Minnisiat?"

The Bothan, Tarzg Sav'lir, had spoken from his usual position beside the Queen's throne at the back of the bridge. His voice was just slightly off, and Teff suspected he was not offering his own suggestion, but one the Queen had relayed through him telepathically.

A year ago, Teff reflected, he might have found that strange.

The lieutenant looked surprised, but nodded thoughtfully. "We have a program with the basic message in dozens of languages. Chief," he added, turning back to his crew, "pull it up and get us a protocol droid in case they—"

"No need," called a sharper voice, and Teff noticed belatedly that the Queen and her Guards were not alone. To one side of the throne, standing straight but looking just slightly uncomfortable, was a tall blonde woman Teff didn't recognize. She wore long part-skirts—kamas, Teff thought they were called—with unfamiliar markings on them.

It was not the blonde woman who had spoken, though, but a Chiss in a Centurion's uniform, who crossed the upper deck briskly and picked up a headset from one of the controllers. Holding it up to her mouth, she chattered into it in an alien language—Minnisiat, Teff suspected—for a moment. There was silence, the communications lieutenant staring at the Chiss who had barged into his area, the Chiss herself listening attentively before shaking her head. "No response."

"They understood you," the Queen said softly, her voice oddly detached and remote, as if she was hardly paying attention. The blonde had cocked her head to one side, breathing deeply.

There was a moment's pause, then Sorrik said, "Selkee, tell them this: We are the Golden Empire. We wish to negotiate with the leadership of the Exoi Kritocracy.  We do not desire battle, but if you continue to ignore us or attack us, we will take it as a challenge to arms.  And we will annihilate you."

The Chiss Selkee relayed the message, and after another moment, a response came over the speakers.

"They acknowledge our presence and invite us to send a shuttle forward with a delegation," Selkee translated.

The Prime Legate snorted through his broad nose. "How charitable. Inform them that we bring Her Glorious Imperial Majesty Queen Rin the Invincible, and this battle group—use that exact expression—is merely her honor guard.  If they wish us to bring in a full fleet, we'd be happy to."

It was not, strictly speaking, true, although the Prime Fleet had left part of its strength outside the system. From the smug tone of Selkee's voice when she translated again, the Exoi had not opted to call Sorrik's bluff. "They look forward to welcoming Her Majesty and promise their defenses will not target us."

"Let's not take them at their word," Sorrik suggested, and Captain Teff nodded.

"Remain at Alert Level Three," the Human commanded. "Continue to map out their defenses and keep the fighters in a protective screen."

"Call down to the hangar bay," Tarzg added to the comms officer. "Prepare the Wanderlust for the Queen's party."

"Shall I go down with you, my lady?" Sorrik asked. One of the weapons crewmen trembled just slightly; he was a tiny being only just tall enough to operate his station, and Teff was never quite sure whether his species' ears were too sensitive to hear Sorrik's bass rumble at all.

Rising from her throne-like command chair, the Queen looked down at Sorrik for a moment. Her features were difficult to read through the shimmersilk veil she wore, but ultimately she shook her head and spoke in a language Teff recognized as Sith. It meant nothing to him, but the Prime Legate nodded with finality and turned back to Teff.

"We hold the line, Captain," he instructed as the Queen's party moved to the bridge door, picking up the Massassi escorts there on the way.

"And prepare a massacre if they double-cross us, sir?" Teff asked calmly.

Sorrik nodded. "I suspect it won't come to that, but if it does…"

He trailed off meaningfully, and Teff nodded, turning back to the main viewport. Toriafas was still some distance away, its landmasses still indistinct beneath cloud cover, but they were closing fast.

"Get a full read on the Kritocracy fleet, then form up for battle," Sorrik called down to the crew. "Settle into orbit within firing range."