Three days later
The meeting of Liberation Front zone commanders convened in the same warehouse where Maxim had first met with Korven. Fifteen leaders had answered the call, representing different districts across Nar Shaddaa. They were a diverse group of humans, Twi'leks, Nikto, Klatooinians, Vodrans, and even a few Weequay who had turned against their former Hutt masters.
The atmosphere was tense, suspicious. These were people who had learned through bitter experience that anyone offering help usually wanted something worse in return.
Maxim stood at one end of the room with four Empyrean Guards flanking him, their presence a reminder of the military power backing his words. Korven opened the proceedings, summarizing the situation and the Imperial offer.
"So, we trade one master for another," said a Human woman with ritual scars covering half her face. "How is that freedom?"
"Because the Imperium doesn't operate through slavery and exploitation," Maxim replied. He was getting tired of having to explain to them the difference between the Imperium and the Hutts. "Your people will be trained, armed, and organized into a legitimate security force. You'll receive salaries, medical care, housing. Your children will attend schools instead of being sold on auction blocks."
"Pretty words," another commander muttered. "The Hutts made promises too." Maxim was about to reply but then he was interrupted. Within the shadows of the room Daimon had been watching to see how these talks progressed. And from what he was seeing, these former slaves were still questioning their motive, which was reasonable for their part but also stupid.
The only reason they were able to survive this long was because he fractured the Hutts power structure. Now they use this advantage to have a superior negotiating position. But with the Republic getting involved, they have no time for petty discussions.
Emerging from the shadows, Daimon stepped into the light of the room, revealing himself. Every commander in the room immediately tensed, hands moving toward weapons before Maxim raised his hand.
"My Lord," Maxim said, bowing his head respectfully.
The commanders exchanged nervous glances. The stories they'd heard about the purple-skinned giant who had toppled the Hutt Council in a single night suddenly seemed far more real with him standing before them.
"I'm not here to waste any more time than need be. The Liberation Front will fall under our control, or I will kill all the commanders present and then forcefully take control of the rest of the soldiers. You have ten seconds to kneel before me, anybody who doesn't will die."
The room went deathly silent. Several commanders reached for their weapons, but before any could draw, the Empyrean Guards moved with supernatural speed, their hands resting on their vibro-swords in clear warning.
Sure, they outnumbered them, but even they knew that fighting against these purple skinned giants was suicide. Maxim watched as a few of them came forward while some still hesitated.
"Five seconds," Daimon said.
This prompted another group to come and bow towards him. Though 6 remained standing at the table. One of them, a Klatooinian male rested his hand on his pistol.
"I didn't survive the Hutts just to bow to another tyrant," he spat.
That was the last thing he said. Maxim and the other Empyrean Guards rushed in and killed the remaining 6 who put up little to no fight.
"Now that we are finally heading in the right direction, I will begin implementing some policies. First, all of you will be temporarily relocated to secure Imperial facilities on Nal Hutta where you will undergo basic military training. Second, your families and dependents will receive immediate medical screening and placement in proper housing. Third, you will receive compensation for your service starting today."
Korven, still kneeling, looked up. "Compensation? You mean we'll be paid?"
"Of course," Daimon replied. "You think I would ask people to fight without rewarding them? The Imperium values those who serve it. You'll receive standard military wages, benefits, and after your initial service period, opportunities for advancement or civilian occupations if you prefer."
The Twi'lek woman who had first met Maxim spoke up. "What about those who can't fight? The elderly, the children, the sick?"
"They become citizens of the Imperium," Daimon said. "They receive education, healthcare, and housing. No one is disposable in Imperial society. Everyone contributes according to their ability."
One of the commanders, a young human male who couldn't have been more than twenty-five, raised his head. "And if we fail you? What happens then?"
Daimon's gaze fixed on him. "Then you face the consequences of failure like any soldier would. But I don't expect you to fail. I've seen what you accomplished with nothing but scrap weapons and determination. With proper training and equipment, you'll be formidable."
The meeting concluded an hour later with formal oaths of allegiance administered by Lord Maxim. The commanders swore loyalty to the Imperium and to Daimon himself. Some spoke with genuine fervor, others with pragmatic resignation, but all understood that this was their best chance for survival.
Transportation was arranged immediately. Imperial shuttles began ferrying the Liberation Front's fighters and their families to Nal Hutta in waves.
The operation took three days to complete, during which Imperial forces maintained security around the refugee zones, repelling two attempted incursions by rival gangs who sought to exploit the perceived vulnerability.
On Nal Hutta, the former Liberation Front members found themselves in a converted industrial complex that had been hastily transformed into a training facility. The contrast with their previous living conditions was stark. Clean barracks, functioning sanitation, three meals a day, and medical staff who actually cared whether they lived or died.
Sera had volunteered to oversee part of the training program, working alongside Imperial drill instructors to transform the ragged resistance fighters into something resembling a proper military force.
Daimon alongside the Empyrean Guard had single handedly changed the balance of power on the surface of Nar Shaddaa. The Imperium had the edge before even with little numbers, but now with Daimon's presence, the advantage had shifted severely in favor of the Imperial forces.
Gangs were wiped out one after another over the course of a few weeks. In addition to this, Daimon had no choice but to call for the deployment of the clone fleets. The clone fleets consisted of cloned Gen'Dai who were genetically created for the purpose of war similar to the Ascendants just on a smaller scale.
The clone fleets were also embedded into the Imperial Armed Forces as an integrated entity. All clones worked under the Department of Clone Warfare whose motto is Unity, Precision, and Purpose.
The clones themselves numbered 500 million as that was the limit outlined in Imperial laws. They were created in vast bio-forges deep within Imperial space and had been deployed to support Imperial forces during the Abominor war.
Unlike their Ascendant counterparts who underwent decades of training and spiritual development, the clones were combat-ready within months of their creation, their minds imprinted with tactical knowledge and military doctrine through advanced neural programming.
Three clone fleets were immediately called for deployment and had assembled within Imperial space within a week. Once the fleets departed and started to make their journey to Hutt space.
Leading the fleets was the Grand Marshal of the clone army Liberius who was in charge of all clone-related military efforts.
With him he brought three fleets, each consisting of 400 ships ranging from frigates to battlecruisers, crewed entirely by Gen'Dai clones. In addition to the were the 60 million ground forces they brought with them, which was more than enough to speed up the process of conquering the designated planets that Daimon wanted.
After a week, the three fleets had arrived and Liberius immediately got to work.
On Nar Shaddaa, the remaining criminal syndicates saw their window of opportunity closing rapidly. The Crimson Syndicate, which controlled the northern industrial sectors, attempted one final push to consolidate their holdings before Imperial forces could overwhelm them. They mobilized every mercenary, enforcer, and conscripted slave soldier they could muster, launching a coordinated assault on three Imperial-held districts simultaneously.
It was a mistake.
Daimon saw the attack coming hours before it materialized, the Force revealing the enemy's intentions as clearly as if they had broadcast their plans. He positioned Imperial forces, accordingly, turning what the Crimson Syndicate believed would be a surprise offensive into a carefully prepared ambush.
When the syndicate forces emerged from the industrial sectors, they found themselves caught in a killing field. Imperial artillery opened up from elevated positions, raining down precision fire that obliterated entire columns before they could reach Imperial lines. War Droids advanced in formation, their targeting systems identifying and eliminating commanders and heavy weapons teams.
The syndicate's slave soldiers, many of whom had been forced to fight at gunpoint, threw down their weapons and surrendered at the first opportunity. Imperial forces had been instructed to accept surrenders and treat prisoners humanely, a stark contrast to the syndicate's doctrine of executing deserters on sight.
Within four hours, the Crimson Syndicate's offensive had collapsed completely. Their leadership attempted to retreat to their fortified headquarters in the northern sectors, but Daimon had anticipated this as well. A battalion of Empyrean Guards, led by Lord Maxim, had already infiltrated the building.
The syndicate bosses never made it back to their command center. They were intercepted in the lower levels and cut down before they could organize any kind of defense. By nightfall, the Crimson Syndicate had ceased to exist as an organized force.
The remaining gangs on Nar Shaddaa took note. Over the next seventy-two hours, three smaller organizations approached Imperial forces with offers of surrender. Daimon accepted, incorporating their fighters into work battalions that would assist with reconstruction efforts under close supervision.
On the Republic's side, their fleets had already arrived at the edge of former Hutt space and had split up to target three different worlds: Kintan, Ylesia, and Vodran. Each fleet was assigned a primary objective: establish Republic control, liberate enslaved populations, and prevent Imperial expansion into those systems.
The Republic commanders had received strict orders from Coruscant: avoid direct military confrontation with Imperial forces unless absolutely necessary, but do not yield territory to them. It was a delicate balance that would prove difficult to maintain in practice, especially in the chaos of war.