“Admiral Fairfax, Eriadu has been seized. The governor and his council have surrendered, and the defense forces have been neutralized completely within the capital. We’re receiving messages of compliance from other population centers now, and I am deploying the rest of my Stormtroopers to ensure cooperation. The Revenue took light damage from the small complement of anti-pirate ships, but its combat functionality is not impaired.”

Commodore Fayet’s young, pale face was displayed in rather poor definition on her personal screen, his voice small and tinny, blaring from the cheap speakers. Amolia noticed a few of her bridge officers listening in: it was the first combat any of them had seen, beyond simulation, and she shared their enthusiasm. She did not stop them, this time.
“Well done, commodore. The fleet will be arriving within the hour: begin procuring food and materiel at high prices, and give ground forces eight hours leave. Remind them we are liberators: rape and pillage will be met with firing squad.”

The commodore nodded along with her, memorizing his duties and no doubt already planning ahead. It was one of few things she liked about the man. Understanding her to be finished, he saluted. “Understood ma’am. Emperor protect.”

She did not respond. His face snapped off her screen, and she looked up, running over what she knew. She looked out of the fore window, the transparisteel almost invisible as she gazed past it and saw the enormous dagger-shaped ship extend in front of her, the point nothing more than a speck against the white streaks of hyperspace. She stood from her command chair with some relish.

“Captain Linser, you have command. Relay to the fleet that orders have changed: the fleet is to enter medium orbit above Eriadu and prepare to repel counterattacks. I have business to attend to.”

The balding man, no more than thirty years old and with chocolate-hued skin, turned from his station directly in front of her now- vacated chair and saluted smartly. “Yes, Admiral.”. He knew better than to wait for a response, and simply began executing her orders efficiently. They had become quite the team over the months.

The walk to her quarters was a short one. A flight of stairs and a trip down a drab grey corridor deposited her in her spacious quarters. Two rooms and a personal lavatory, well appreciated. She used very little of it, of course, and today was no exception. She dropped herself in her far more comfortable personal chair, and turned to her desk, turning her various computers and communicators on as she did so. Her desk was immaculate, of course: there was no using heavy, wasteful and expensive paper on a Star Destroyer. Her computer, however, was highly cluttered. She still managed to navigate it smoothly, and keyed open a new communication channel. She trusted her staff, as any officer must, but some matters are best kept out of the minds of the fragile.

“Pardalis. I trust the Jedi were no problem, even without the bomb.”

The rough voice of her agent came across in terrible quality, the price paid for portable communicators. “They weren’t, boss. I managed to take the padawan alive, like you asked. I couldn’t get the knight, too dangerous.”

“Indeed. Is she fit for transport?”

“Absolutely.” Even through the bad connection she could hear a note of relish. “She’ll be no danger on the ship, though I’d recommend you let me handle her while she’s aboard. Jedi are slippery, even when you can resist their tricks.”

“Understood. The Bazaar will be entering orbit in an hour. I expect you here as soon as possible.”

“Got it, boss.”

His face disappeared, and Amolia sat back calmly. She couldn’t wait to interrogate the jedi: there were just too many things she wanted to know. A rare smirk played on her face, just for a few seconds.