Konig15
03-14-2007, 06:40 PM
The Legend of Admiral Griff (Part I)
It can be said that no one benefited more from the rise of the Galactic Empire than Wilhuff Tarkin. Tarkin, an aristocrat through and through, had long ago hitched his star to Senator, then Chancellor, then Emperor Palpatine, and it had paid off handsomely. As the Old Republic burned in its death throes, Tarkin rose like a Phoenix from the ashes. He sometimes wondered if he were the second most powerful in the Empire, or merely the third, behind Darth Vader. He supposed it didn’t matter.
He realized he had been distracted for a moment, and hadn’t heard. He cleared his throat, and bade Lord Vader to continue his report on his interrogations of the princess.
“Her resistance to the mind probe is considerable,” said the dark lord through his mechanical breathing device. “It will be some time before we can extract any information from her.”
Stubbornness. Tarkin figured it was the mark of well bred royalty. Normally, he would have some sympathy for a fellow noble, especially one as young as she, but even at 19, a traitor was a traitor. She would be pumped dry of information and crushed like the roach she was.
A lieutenant, Tarkin thought it might be Habery, came forward to him “The final check-out is complete. All systems are operational. What course shall we set?”
Tarkin thought about it for a moment, when what appeared to be a great idea dawned on him. He said out loud, more to himself than anyone else, “Perhaps she would respond to an alternative form of persuasion.”
“What do you mean?” asked, nay demanded, Vader
”I think it is time we demonstrate the full power of this station.” He looked at the Lieutenant. “Set
your course for Alderaan.”
“With pleasure,” said he, truthfully. Jackal, thought Tarkin; he had killed billions, but he still thought it distasteful to take please in it.
But what Tarkin did not see was the horrified reaction of the Communication Specialist Carlos Joons. Anyone could have seen it, had they bothered to look, but Joons was the kind of man that few pay attention to unless they know him well. He’d already seen the station’s superlaser destroy the penal colony of Despayre, and the fearsome reputation of Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin left no doubt in Joons’ mind he intended to use his ‘Death Star’. Now he knew the target.
Specialist Joons slipped away from the Comm., unnoticed for now. He had been planning for this since the aforementioned destruction of Despayre. This was not the Empire he had signed up for; not the Empire that brought order after the chaos of the Clone Wars and he knew he could not stand by. He went to his quarters, hoping to make it before the Death Star actually went into hyperspace. He retrieved a data packet and went to an unused comm. station deep in the bowels of the battle station, only a Communication specialist would know about.
He sighed as he entered the empty room. This was suicide, and he knew it. His father had told him that in the Clone Wars, there was an organization called the Underground that tried to prevent atrocities among Republic forces. So the Underground would speak once again. Joons warmed up the machinery, loaded the data, a rough schematic of the battle station’s size and capabilities, and sent the following message via the stations distress comm. to every ship, home and business and government office across the Holonet:
This is a message from the underground. Death Star very real and operational. Course set for Alderaan. Hostile Intent. Can destroy entire planets. Estimated time to arrival: 8 hours minimum. All ships able, please come. Pease help. Your majesty, you must stop this madness! This is not the Empire I serve!
At this point, internal security came in and put an end to the transmission. Joons was surprised they didn’t shoot him dead then and there. Worse was in store for him. Joons was scared, but strangely enough he felt almost elated. Dying a martyr’s death had never appealed to him before, but it wasn’t a bad way to go out. When the Emperor found out about this, heads would roll, quite literally.
*******
At the Fondor shipyards, Admiral Amise Griff sat at his desk, in his quarters aboard the new ship, a new class of ships, the Executor, which was being built for Lord Vader’s personal use. It was just completing trials and simply waited to be given approval for deployment in the pursuit of Rebel Scum.
Admiral Griff looked out the window of his quarters into the black of the void, punctuated by tiny points of light. He had gotten this message form the ‘Underground’ and the dread was so heavy it was keeping his feet locked on the floor. Always an ambitious man, he had worked his way up through the ranks in the Bright Jewel Oversector, hunting pirates and smugglers, and occasionally Rebels. He hoped never to be put in a position like this: he had heard of atrocities happening before, but he had never before been in a position to stop them.
“What am I going to do?” he said out loud, his head sinking into his hands. He knew what he “Damn it!” He stood up, “Why does doing the right thing have to be so hard?! I wanted to be a Grand Admiral, now they might execute me.” He ruffled his hair, “Ah **** it. **** them all.” He pressed the comm. Button at his desk, “Captain Piett?” The viewscreen on the wall came on to show the face of the Executor’s third in command, Firmus Piett, Captain Ozzel having not yet arrived from duty in the Outer Rim.
“Ah, yes sir?” Piett asked nervously.
“Did you see it?” Griff asked testily, emphasis on ‘it.’
“Yes, sir. And if the bridge watch is any indication, half of the crew will be ready to mutiny within the hour. We should do something quickly before things get out of hand. I suggest…”
“That we listen to them?” asked Griff, “An excellent ideal, Captain!”
“Sir, this transmission could be anything, including a trap set by the Rebels…”
“Or a test of loyalty by High Command or an elaborate prank, but what does your gut tell you Captain?”
“It could be real. We’ve all heard rumors about this Death Star…”
“Then don’t you think we should do something before Alderaan is reduced to space slag?!” said Griff
“It’s not our place to get involved sir. I’m sure the commander of that facility has his reasons.” replied Piett, his voice starting to quiver; such was his attempt to tow the official line.
Griff, thinking the young captain might be breaking down due to his berating, softened his voice a bit and said, “Firmus, may I call you Firmus? You’re from…Axxila, correct?”
“Yes sir,” replied the Captain.
“If you don’t stick up for the Alderaani now, who’s going to stop Tarkin’s little toy from blowing up Axxila when Tarkin finds it wasn’t loyal enough?”
This did faze the captain, “You mean, Grand Moff Tarkin? Of Oversector Outer?”
“The same guy who crushed all those protestors with his ship on Ghoman. Yes, that fellow. So you and I both know what he’s capable of. We’ve both done scandalous, no, no, questionable things in the service of the Republic and the Empire, but deliberate mass murder was never among them. Listen Captain: I’m going to Alderaan, and you can come with me as my 2nd in command, or as a passenger, your choice.”
Captain Piett swallowed, and a said “If it’s mutiny then, then call me a mutineer.”
“Captain, do you really believe the Emperor would allow this if he knew.”
“Surely the Emperor does know Admiral, and he has not said anything…” and deck officer came out of the left of Griff’s telescreen and talked in hushed tones, after he finished, Piett looked back at the telescreen “and High Command has just issued a stay order.”
Griff crinkled his nose at this “Put me through to the outer comm.” And it was done, “Death Squadron, you have been assembled here for the personal use of Lord Vader in crushing the infernal Rebellion. However, we should never forget that the primary purpose of the Imperial Navy is to protect the lives and property of Imperial citizens across the galaxy. Lord Tion, a good servant of the Empire until his murder a few days ago by Leia Organa, has stated repeatedly, ‘when peace and stability are threatened, it is the Emperor's duty to intervene, to ensure his subjects' security and well-being.’ We are instruments in this effort. Now it seems Grand Moff Tarkin is taking revenge against the Alderaani in a particular horrible way. I cannot order you to come with me to defend billions of innocents, but if you want to salvage your careers at the expense of your conscience, I don’t want you. But let me tell you this: the Empire dies with Alderaan. In five minutes, I want all willing commanders to report in, and we will jump together.”
Fifteen minutes later, all 20 Star Destroyers and over 1500 support craft jumped into hyperspace.
It can be said that no one benefited more from the rise of the Galactic Empire than Wilhuff Tarkin. Tarkin, an aristocrat through and through, had long ago hitched his star to Senator, then Chancellor, then Emperor Palpatine, and it had paid off handsomely. As the Old Republic burned in its death throes, Tarkin rose like a Phoenix from the ashes. He sometimes wondered if he were the second most powerful in the Empire, or merely the third, behind Darth Vader. He supposed it didn’t matter.
He realized he had been distracted for a moment, and hadn’t heard. He cleared his throat, and bade Lord Vader to continue his report on his interrogations of the princess.
“Her resistance to the mind probe is considerable,” said the dark lord through his mechanical breathing device. “It will be some time before we can extract any information from her.”
Stubbornness. Tarkin figured it was the mark of well bred royalty. Normally, he would have some sympathy for a fellow noble, especially one as young as she, but even at 19, a traitor was a traitor. She would be pumped dry of information and crushed like the roach she was.
A lieutenant, Tarkin thought it might be Habery, came forward to him “The final check-out is complete. All systems are operational. What course shall we set?”
Tarkin thought about it for a moment, when what appeared to be a great idea dawned on him. He said out loud, more to himself than anyone else, “Perhaps she would respond to an alternative form of persuasion.”
“What do you mean?” asked, nay demanded, Vader
”I think it is time we demonstrate the full power of this station.” He looked at the Lieutenant. “Set
your course for Alderaan.”
“With pleasure,” said he, truthfully. Jackal, thought Tarkin; he had killed billions, but he still thought it distasteful to take please in it.
But what Tarkin did not see was the horrified reaction of the Communication Specialist Carlos Joons. Anyone could have seen it, had they bothered to look, but Joons was the kind of man that few pay attention to unless they know him well. He’d already seen the station’s superlaser destroy the penal colony of Despayre, and the fearsome reputation of Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin left no doubt in Joons’ mind he intended to use his ‘Death Star’. Now he knew the target.
Specialist Joons slipped away from the Comm., unnoticed for now. He had been planning for this since the aforementioned destruction of Despayre. This was not the Empire he had signed up for; not the Empire that brought order after the chaos of the Clone Wars and he knew he could not stand by. He went to his quarters, hoping to make it before the Death Star actually went into hyperspace. He retrieved a data packet and went to an unused comm. station deep in the bowels of the battle station, only a Communication specialist would know about.
He sighed as he entered the empty room. This was suicide, and he knew it. His father had told him that in the Clone Wars, there was an organization called the Underground that tried to prevent atrocities among Republic forces. So the Underground would speak once again. Joons warmed up the machinery, loaded the data, a rough schematic of the battle station’s size and capabilities, and sent the following message via the stations distress comm. to every ship, home and business and government office across the Holonet:
This is a message from the underground. Death Star very real and operational. Course set for Alderaan. Hostile Intent. Can destroy entire planets. Estimated time to arrival: 8 hours minimum. All ships able, please come. Pease help. Your majesty, you must stop this madness! This is not the Empire I serve!
At this point, internal security came in and put an end to the transmission. Joons was surprised they didn’t shoot him dead then and there. Worse was in store for him. Joons was scared, but strangely enough he felt almost elated. Dying a martyr’s death had never appealed to him before, but it wasn’t a bad way to go out. When the Emperor found out about this, heads would roll, quite literally.
*******
At the Fondor shipyards, Admiral Amise Griff sat at his desk, in his quarters aboard the new ship, a new class of ships, the Executor, which was being built for Lord Vader’s personal use. It was just completing trials and simply waited to be given approval for deployment in the pursuit of Rebel Scum.
Admiral Griff looked out the window of his quarters into the black of the void, punctuated by tiny points of light. He had gotten this message form the ‘Underground’ and the dread was so heavy it was keeping his feet locked on the floor. Always an ambitious man, he had worked his way up through the ranks in the Bright Jewel Oversector, hunting pirates and smugglers, and occasionally Rebels. He hoped never to be put in a position like this: he had heard of atrocities happening before, but he had never before been in a position to stop them.
“What am I going to do?” he said out loud, his head sinking into his hands. He knew what he “Damn it!” He stood up, “Why does doing the right thing have to be so hard?! I wanted to be a Grand Admiral, now they might execute me.” He ruffled his hair, “Ah **** it. **** them all.” He pressed the comm. Button at his desk, “Captain Piett?” The viewscreen on the wall came on to show the face of the Executor’s third in command, Firmus Piett, Captain Ozzel having not yet arrived from duty in the Outer Rim.
“Ah, yes sir?” Piett asked nervously.
“Did you see it?” Griff asked testily, emphasis on ‘it.’
“Yes, sir. And if the bridge watch is any indication, half of the crew will be ready to mutiny within the hour. We should do something quickly before things get out of hand. I suggest…”
“That we listen to them?” asked Griff, “An excellent ideal, Captain!”
“Sir, this transmission could be anything, including a trap set by the Rebels…”
“Or a test of loyalty by High Command or an elaborate prank, but what does your gut tell you Captain?”
“It could be real. We’ve all heard rumors about this Death Star…”
“Then don’t you think we should do something before Alderaan is reduced to space slag?!” said Griff
“It’s not our place to get involved sir. I’m sure the commander of that facility has his reasons.” replied Piett, his voice starting to quiver; such was his attempt to tow the official line.
Griff, thinking the young captain might be breaking down due to his berating, softened his voice a bit and said, “Firmus, may I call you Firmus? You’re from…Axxila, correct?”
“Yes sir,” replied the Captain.
“If you don’t stick up for the Alderaani now, who’s going to stop Tarkin’s little toy from blowing up Axxila when Tarkin finds it wasn’t loyal enough?”
This did faze the captain, “You mean, Grand Moff Tarkin? Of Oversector Outer?”
“The same guy who crushed all those protestors with his ship on Ghoman. Yes, that fellow. So you and I both know what he’s capable of. We’ve both done scandalous, no, no, questionable things in the service of the Republic and the Empire, but deliberate mass murder was never among them. Listen Captain: I’m going to Alderaan, and you can come with me as my 2nd in command, or as a passenger, your choice.”
Captain Piett swallowed, and a said “If it’s mutiny then, then call me a mutineer.”
“Captain, do you really believe the Emperor would allow this if he knew.”
“Surely the Emperor does know Admiral, and he has not said anything…” and deck officer came out of the left of Griff’s telescreen and talked in hushed tones, after he finished, Piett looked back at the telescreen “and High Command has just issued a stay order.”
Griff crinkled his nose at this “Put me through to the outer comm.” And it was done, “Death Squadron, you have been assembled here for the personal use of Lord Vader in crushing the infernal Rebellion. However, we should never forget that the primary purpose of the Imperial Navy is to protect the lives and property of Imperial citizens across the galaxy. Lord Tion, a good servant of the Empire until his murder a few days ago by Leia Organa, has stated repeatedly, ‘when peace and stability are threatened, it is the Emperor's duty to intervene, to ensure his subjects' security and well-being.’ We are instruments in this effort. Now it seems Grand Moff Tarkin is taking revenge against the Alderaani in a particular horrible way. I cannot order you to come with me to defend billions of innocents, but if you want to salvage your careers at the expense of your conscience, I don’t want you. But let me tell you this: the Empire dies with Alderaan. In five minutes, I want all willing commanders to report in, and we will jump together.”
Fifteen minutes later, all 20 Star Destroyers and over 1500 support craft jumped into hyperspace.