I glanced at my new subordinates, all of them busy with their assigned tasks, then sighed and turned my attention back to the datapad. Before I started changing the way these people lived, I needed to understand their history and traditions.
So I rapidly worked through the textual archives of Praxis from the last several thousand years: decrees from the Ministry of War, duty logs, ration-allocation regulations, and transcripts from meetings of the civilian administration. And, to my surprise, I actually found a few interesting things.
In short, despite the severe shortages of certain resources and the generally poor living conditions throughout the system, the use of available manpower was... let us say, far from optimal.
For example, in the three hundred and twentieth year after isolation, officers still referred to "direct orders from the Central Committee." By the seven hundredth year, that had become "the Law of the Ministry of War." By the fifteen-hundredth year, the entire system had finally broken down. Soldiers guarded empty warehouses simply because "that was the regulation," while workers on the lower levels survived beneath the domes on reduced rations and could receive several days in solitary confinement for the slightest initiative or deviation from prescribed procedures. Most importantly, however, no one above them had ever given these people an Idea, no answer to the simple question of why they were expected to endure all of this suffering. In time, the population might have found an answer for themselves, but the constant policy of suppressing individuality had played a cruel trick on them.
On one hand, that presented problems. On the other... it was an excellent opportunity to spread an Idea of my own. At least the locals had never gone as far as creating servitors or anything similar to what existed in Warhammer. No matter how thoroughly a person was suppressed, there was still some part of them that wanted to defend their right to remain an individual, even if they were too afraid to say it aloud.
"Schedule a Council meeting for... let's say, two hours from now," I said, turning away from the screen and looking at Elara. "Invite everyone who matters. By then, I think they should have cleared up at least some of their immediate problems."
...
Eventually the appointed time arrived, and everyone gathered inside the bunker. I had even managed to fly to the flagship and back several times while trying to settle various matters, along with making repeated attempts to establish communication with the R.G.A.
Grand Marshal Vallen occupied the place at the head of the table, his posture so perfectly straight that I was beginning to envy him. The fleet commanders sat to his left. A little farther away stood General Grievous with his arms folded across his chest, while Darth Maul remained in the shadows near one of the bulkheads. Varg was there as well, still traveling with us for the time being, and Khem had positioned himself by the entrance in a role that seemed to fall somewhere between bodyguard and bouncer.
The only people missing were my chosen deputies and the other R.G.A. administrators. They were occupied elsewhere at the moment, and I only knew many of them through reports. Still, a proper introduction was clearly not far off. I would definitely need to summon them here eventually, even if that meant pulling them away from their work in the field.
"We reviewed the personnel rosters, Lord Taales," Vallen began, clasping his hands behind his back. "There has been some unrest within the officer corps since the Administrator's arrest. Do not misunderstand me. They will obey any order I give them, but rumors are already spreading among the ship commanders, and I understand why. I also had time to review some of the documents you provided. I will speak plainly: if you attempt to impose these strange beliefs about 'worker rule' on our people, even the most beaten-down sergeant will reject them. Soldiers serve officers, not laborers from the barracks, sir."
I slowly walked along the table, watching the reactions of the military officers. All I found were cautious, guarded looks.
"You are thinking in the terms of a dead age, Marshal," I replied calmly, stopping across from him. "No one intends to hand command of the fleet to an untrained civilian mob. But living according to a charter written three thousand years ago for an Empire that has long since vanished is not exactly a sensible alternative either. Beginning today, the Shard will cease to exist as an abandoned garrison. In its place, we will proclaim a new sovereign state, combine it with the structure already under my authority, and call it the Revolutionary Galactic Alliance."
The officers exchanged glances while Vallen narrowed his eyes slightly, waiting for me to continue.
"The ideological core of this state will be the Workers' Party," I said, sweeping my gaze across everyone present. "But do not mistake it for a debating club for civilian bureaucrats. For you, Marshal, and for your officer corps, think of the Party as a Supreme Vanguard Headquarters."
I paused to give them time to absorb that, using the Force as I usually did, not to replace their thoughts but simply to reinforce the weight behind my words.
"Membership in the Party will require strict selection. Only the most capable workers, the best pilots, and the best technicians will be admitted. Anyone wearing the Party insignia will be personally responsible for their assigned sector and will be the first to enter battle if necessary. As for your existing methods of motivating personnel... I would describe them as somewhat inadequate, if they can even be said to exist at all. Because of that, we will establish a new institution: the Commissariat. It will be responsible for maintaining the morale of our fighters, while the Party will handle political work among the population by appointing representatives to every major enterprise."
Vallen slowly nodded. Some of the hard lines around his eyes relaxed. The concept of "strengthened political supervision" was clearly much easier for him to understand.
"That is... acceptable," Vallen said after a brief pause. "Provided Party discipline remains subordinate to military command during combat operations."
"It is subordinate to me," I replied sharply. "And I am delegating operational command of the armed forces to the Military Council."
Turning toward the corner where Darth Maul had positioned himself away from most of the attention in the room, I continued my circuit around the table.
"Now, regarding the Commissariat in greater detail. It will be staffed by Force-users."
Maul leaned forward slightly, his interest immediately apparent.
"Those gifted with the Force will not become a privileged caste, and they certainly will not become another sect of fanatics," I continued, ignoring the wave of muted irritation that flared through the Force from his direction. "We will turn them into an instrument of state security. The Commissariat will handle political counterintelligence, uncover sabotage, detect Jedi mental conditioning, and maintain iron discipline both within the armed forces and among those sensitive to the Force. Maul, you will oversee the combat and tactical training of the Commissars. Your experience in war and your hatred of the Jedi should find excellent use there."
The Zabrak gave a predatory grin, baring his teeth. The idea of controlling a structured punitive organization designed specifically for hunting and enforcement clearly appealed to him far more than continuing to wander around as a mercenary. Fine. Let him train the first group, and then I would see what came of it. Trusting him completely would be a terrible idea, so everything would need supervision. The important thing was recognizing problems before they grew out of control. Until then, whatever commissarial work needed to be done would fall to whoever we could find. Proper training would take time.
"Varg, our new state is prepared to pay you well for your initial assistance with training. We would also like to develop cooperation with Dathomir in the future. Contact the Matriarch and pass along my proposal, if you would."
"And what about the infantry?" Grievous rasped. "You expect me to command outdated droids supported by local troops? They will scatter the moment they make contact with regular Republic forces!"
"For you, General," I said, deliberately emphasizing his rank, "we have a separate project."
Ignoring Vallen's indignant cough, I activated the holographic panel in the center of the table, where Elara had already uploaded the preliminary calculations.
"Project Steel Vanguard."
A schematic of a heavy assault infantryman appeared above the table.
"We need heavy infantry capable of breaking fortified defensive lines and surviving direct contact with Force-users," I explained. "We will combine the Shard's isolated genetic laboratories, the Techno Union's research into neural implants, duranium exoskeletal components, and, ideally, introduce Dashade genetic traits into the recruits to improve endurance and resistance to the Force. On top of that, we will give them several new specialized organs."
Oh yes. If there happened to be another transmigrator somewhere in this universe, they would identify exactly what I was doing almost instantly, because the design of these genetically modified soldiers was far too obviously inspired by a certain source. The Big E would definitely be proud. The figure staring back at us from the hologram wore a slightly modified but extremely recognizable Astartes-style helmet.
Khem gave a hoarse laugh, clearly not having expected anything like this from me.
"My blood for your new slaves, little Sith?" he rumbled. "They will burst from that much power."
"You underestimate the power of science," I replied before turning toward the Shard's chief biologist, who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot near the edge of the table.
The man immediately began stammering while gesturing wildly.
"But Lord Taales! What you are describing... it would be an extremely dangerous procedure. Even if we manage to develop it, I believe the mortality rate from biological incompatibility would be very high. Although, if we avoided modifying ordinary sentients and instead grew a specifically engineered clone from the beginning..."
The biologist had clearly disappeared into his own thoughts, already trying to work through the technical details of the assignment. I decided not to interrupt him. Instead, I passed the master chip containing the technical specifications to Elara and gave her a meaningful nod in his direction, silently asking her to help.
She took the chip, sighed in resignation, and quickly entered several commands into her datapad.
"You're going to owe me," she muttered. "I'll be working until morning again. When we finally get somewhere closer to civilization, you could at least take me out to dinner or something."
"Excellent," I said, hiding my embarrassment at such a direct hint behind a short cough before looking around at everyone gathered in the chamber. "These will be the first steps toward building our state. Tomorrow we will officially proclaim the creati—"
I never finished the sentence.
A crimson priority-alert indicator suddenly flared across the console, its sharp electronic tone overriding every holographic projection in the bunker. Vallen immediately entered a command into the terminal, and the blue three-dimensional map of the station disappeared, replaced by an alarming red schematic of Sector Four covered in rapidly flashing emergency markers.
"Sabotage in the life-support block," Vallen reported. "According to the incoming reports, a group of officials loyal to the arrested Administrator, together with a unit of Internal Security, have barricaded themselves inside the primary air-purification and hydroponics complex."
Khem immediately leaned forward, bloodlust flashing in his eyes.
"We missed some of them. Master, allow me to go down there and correct this oversight." Judging by his smile, there was absolutely no mystery about what methods he intended to use.
I turned my attention toward Vallen instead.
"What weapons do they have, and what are their demands?"
Vallen quickly worked several switches on the console.
"Preliminary reports indicate around twenty lightly armed members of civilian security. But that is not the real problem. They have planted ion charges on the air-filtration reactor. They demand the immediate release of the Administrator, the reversal of every decision made by the Military Council, and guarantees of immunity. They have given us fifteen minutes to comply."
An angry murmur swept through the bunker. Without hesitation, Vallen reached toward the comlink attached to his uniform.
"I am deploying the Third Boarding Company. We will blow the exterior bulkheads, enter through the airlock, and clear the compartment."
"Belay that, Marshal," I interrupted calmly, stepping toward the terminal.
Vallen froze and narrowed his eyes in irritation.
"Lord Taales, I assume you understand that we do not have time for diplomacy."
"That is exactly why we will do this differently," I replied while studying the status report for Sector Four. "More than five thousand shipyard workers live and work inside that block. If your boarding company begins an assault using heavy thermal charges, the purification reactor will fail. I can guarantee it."
"And what do you suggest?" one of the fleet generals asked. "Surrender to the mutineers?"
"We... and by that I mean those of us who can use the Force, will handle this ourselves," I said, turning toward my companions. "Consider it a practical demonstration of how the Force Commissariat is supposed to operate."
Darth Maul merely rolled his shoulders in silence, his hand naturally settling on the hilt of his lightsaber, while Khem grinned with obvious satisfaction.
"Elara, send the sector schematics to my portable communicator."
After receiving an affirmative nod from Ice Pick, we set off through the station's maintenance corridors. Elara volunteered to accompany us, along with several officers.
"I remotely locked emergency hydraulic shutters B-Seven and B-Nine," she said while tapping rapidly at the screen as we walked. "Now they only have one possible escape route, through the central maintenance corridor. The problem is that they sealed the main airlock into the filtration chamber from the inside and wired it to a manual detonator. However, the logs show an auxiliary ventilation access, B-Twelve, located behind the regeneration unit. Apparently, nobody has used it in a very long time."
She pointed toward an inconspicuous steel hatch in the wall, its surface buried beneath a thick layer of compressed dust.
"Good. Cut ventilation to their corridor from here so their visibility gets worse. Khem, you go first."
The Dashade gave a pleased growl and moved toward the armored door. Agitated voices and the clicking of weapon mechanisms could already be heard through the steel barrier. Apparently, they had noticed our approach in advance. At this point, however, that no longer mattered.
Khem dug his hands into the steel seam of the locked airlock, bent his back, and tore backward with a savage roar. There was no question that the Force was involved somehow, because the hydraulic locking bolts holding the door in place soon snapped apart with a deafening clang. The half-ton armored slab tore free from its tracks and crashed into the room beyond, crushing two of the mutineers standing behind it.
Darth Maul immediately slipped through the opening. His double-bladed crimson lightsaber ignited inside the half-darkened maintenance hall, and a sharp, echoing crack followed roughly every half second as another unfortunate rebel crossed paths with the furious Sith.
Varg entered right behind him. The witch raised both hands and murmured a quiet incantation in the Dathomirian tongue. A mental wave spread outward from the center of the corridor, and a dozen guards who had been desperately trying to draw backup vibroknives suddenly grabbed their heads in unison, dropped their weapons, and collapsed like heavy sacks onto the metal grating as they fell into a deep, unnatural sleep.
The entire operation to neutralize the barricade lasted no more than ten seconds.
I walked calmly into the purification station. Near the reactor's primary terminal, surrounded by tangled wires and ion blocks attached directly to the housing, stood the apparent leader of the mutiny. According to the data that had been sent to me, he was the arrested Administrator's senior deputy. His carefully maintained civilian uniform was smeared with soot, his face was covered in sweat, and the fingers of his right hand trembled violently above the button of a manual detonator.
"Stay back! Stay back, traitors!" he shrieked, desperately gulping for air. "One more step and I blow everything! I would rather die than hand this station over to this rabble!"
I stopped three paces away and carefully studied his expression: darting eyes, broken breathing, the nervous twitch in his lower lip. This was clearly not an ideological fanatic prepared to die for the Empire. He was just a frightened bureaucrat who was terrified of losing his privileges.
"You will not press that button," I said evenly, taking a slow step forward.
"I will! Do you hear me?! Death to traitors!" he screamed when my attempt at influence failed.
I raised my hand and used the Force differently this time, with the clear intent to cause harm. An ugly cracking sound immediately echoed through the room as bone broke.
The official screamed when his index and middle fingers twisted backward before they could close around the control. The metal detonator fell from his injured hand. I moved one finger through the air, and the heavy device flew in an arc directly into my palm.
After switching the safety control into the locked position, I tossed the detonator to Elara.
"You can deal with this, right? Give me a hand."
She nodded once and immediately rushed toward the reactor, pulling something from the ion charges with practiced speed. The emergency red lighting inside the chamber shifted to a steady green.
At my feet, the official writhed and whimpered while cradling his broken fingers. Several guards who were beginning to recover from the Dathomirian spell pressed themselves fearfully against the walls, staring at us with wide eyes.
I approached the fallen leader of the mutiny and applied a light mental pressure with the Force, reading the surface layer of his motives. There were no complicated political beliefs there. Only fear of physical labor and a desperate desire to regain control over the distribution of food.
Then I turned toward the surviving security personnel. Their emotional impressions painted an entirely different picture. They had been told that our group consisted of Republic saboteurs who intended to massacre the population of the lower levels and surrender the shipyards to the enemy. And yes, just to be clear, they meant the Old Republic.
"Your superior lied to you," I said loudly, addressing the soldiers while using the Force to reinforce my voice. "He used you as living shields so that he could bargain his way back to the feeding trough."
I drew my lightsaber hilt, and the chamber filled with the resonant crackle of an orange-black blade igniting.
The official on the floor barely had time to open his mouth for another scream before one swift motion ended his life. His body twitched twice and then went limp against the grated floor.
I deactivated the weapon and turned toward the trembling soldiers.
"You committed treason and allowed yourselves to be manipulated by a saboteur. Ordinarily, the punishment for that would be execution," I said without emotion. "But the R.G.A. does not waste human resources. You will be sent to the lower shipyards, where you will work on the installation of the new fuel lines and repay your debt to the very people you nearly deprived of air."
The soldiers nodded quickly in obvious relief, now ready to obey almost any command that kept them alive.
"Maul, take them and hand them over to Vallen's military commandant," I ordered as I turned toward the exit. "The crisis is over. It is time to tell everyone on this station exactly who holds power here now."
...
The central holographic platform in the Praxis command center hummed under an unusually heavy load. Technicians in grease-stained coveralls hurried around the bases of the emitters, struggling to balance power flow into the main relay systems.
One of the engineers attempted to bring me a diagnostic datapad, but I merely shook my head and redirected him toward Elara, who was seated at the main communications console. She gave a short nod, took the device, cleared several synchronization errors with a few rapid inputs, and raised her thumb in confirmation.
The red indicators lining the walls shifted to a steady blue glow. The holographic transmission spread across every internal and external channel: into the residential domes, across the shipyard repair decks, throughout the crowded barracks, and onto the bridge of every vessel sitting in dock. On hundreds of screens, and before the eyes of thousands of people, the platform holding the Military Council appeared.
"Citizens and soldiers," I began, my amplified voice rolling throughout the station. "For centuries, you have lived in the shadow of the past. You obeyed the orders of a ministry that no longer exists, waited for supplies from a capital that died long ago, and slowly decayed while bureaucrats feasted at your expense. Beginning today, that ends."
I paused and looked across the cold metal bulkheads. Behind me stood Grand Marshal Vallen in full dress uniform, General Grievous with his arms folded across his chest, and the perpetually displeased Darth Maul.
"The old Sith Empire is dead. Its laws no longer possess authority. Beginning today, your Imperial Shard ceases to exist as a military outpost. In its place, this territory will become a sovereign state: the Revolutionary Galactic Alliance."
Silence descended across the entire station. No one had expected words like those from the military command.
"The foundation of the new state will be the Workers' Party," I continued while watching the officers' expressions for their reactions. "Membership in the Party will mean accepting higher production standards, strict discipline, and personal responsibility to society, but it will also grant proportionate privileges. Only the best among the shipyard workers, technicians, and soldiers will earn the right to lead others."
I leaned slightly forward and looked directly into the primary broadcast lens.
"To prevent enemy propaganda from the Republic, which still exists unlike the Sith Empire, and to maintain the integrity of our ranks, I hereby announce the creation of the Special Force Commissariat. Counterintelligence, discipline oversight, and the detection of enemy sabotage will now fall under the direct authority of my appointed Commissars. Any attempt at sabotage or betrayal will be stopped at its source."
Having finished the introductory portion of the announcement, I moved on to the Council's most important decision.
"By assuming responsibility for state construction and national defense, I hereby take office as General Secretary of the R.G.A. All former Imperial titles and ranks are abolished."
Grand Marshal Vallen stepped forward with a precise, measured stride. Drawing an ornate vibroknife from its sheath, an ancient symbol of an officer's oath, he lowered himself onto one knee and held the blade level with his chest.
"On behalf of the Fleet and Ground Forces of the Shard," he declared loudly and clearly, "I swear allegiance to the Revolutionary Galactic Alliance and to the General Secretary. I serve the people of the R.G.A.!"
The staff officers present in the chamber bowed their heads after him. Grievous responded with a low growl and a sharp nod, while Maul gave only a restrained salute with the hilt of his lightsaber. The symbolic act was complete. The army and the civilian institutions now shared a single center of legitimacy.
The projectors shut down, and the hum of the overloaded relay systems faded back into the familiar background noise of the station's ventilation. Vallen rose from his kneeling position and saluted, now as the commander of the armed forces of a new state.
"We begin reorganizing the regiments within the hour, General Secretary," he reported crisply before leaving the bunker together with the other officers.
I exhaled slowly as the tension eased from my shoulders. I had taken a major step toward bringing the R.G.A. fully onto the galactic political stage, but everything that truly mattered was still ahead of us.
End of Chapter