PREFSBELT_IV
2332 Local Time
Location: Sector [REDACTED], Fortress Dosuun



The warlords private quarters were dank to say the least. The Grand Admiral enjoyed the sullen darkness of his room, with only his terminal illuminating his features as he worked. Requisitions, reports and industrial quotas dominated his time for now. It was a sickly business, but necessary in the tight game of politics he played in the New Imperial Order. Carlyle Rausgeber was a fighter, and would be damned if his influence were to be eclipsed by the eclectic class of fellow politicos in the imperial assembly. “Grand Admiral,” The intercom rasped. Carlyle turned his pixelated features from up his terminal, to that of the intercom. “Sir, priority transmission from Nirauan. Authorised from the office of the Grand Vizier.”

Curious. Carlyle pondered the message and its contents for a moment. Was this a summons? Perhaps a brief on some future meeting of the assembly? A request for further resources from the foundries of Prefsbelt IV? His mind wandered through the infinitum of his circuitry, until a gloved hand reached to the comms unit, “
Come.”

The airlock to the inner sanctum opened, with Rausgeber’s secretary standing to attention in his crisp, black First Imperial style fatigues. The secretary stepped forth into the darkness, brandishing a datapad. The young cadet strode forward, “We received this packet five minutes ago. Other than verifying data encryption, no one’s eyes have been set on it.” The junior soldier informed his superior as he passed the datapad to Rausgeber. The Grand Admiral churlishly clasped it, almost as if it were perhaps a venomous creature. Nevertheless, the Grand Admiral typed in the passcode, and activated the message.

Grand Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber,

I will not indulge you with unnecessary detail, but I doubt you'd care much either way. I will elaborate, however, that my presence so far as naval command will be absent over Dantooine. The planet beckons to me. I cannot explain how, why, or even properly elaborate as to what I mean. I doubt I could if I tried. I have heard much of the world's supposed connection to 'the force'. Be it rumors or otherwise, it undeniably pulls at my affliction.

I will be joining the Imperator and the 501st with boots on the ground. Far from my forte, as I'm sure you're aware. But, at the risk of sounding mad, this call is not something I feel that can ignore. Given my condition, this choice is not something that gives me confidence in my longevity during or beyond the operation.

With this address, I am making the executive order to give you, Grand Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber, complete command of the New-Imperial Armada during the course of this operation. Your talents and achievements grant me the confidence to bestow this responsibility onto you. This is not an order. You are free to decline if you so prefer. Though, I have a feeling this is an opportunity you wouldn't dare squander.

As Vizier Admiral Regent, the armada is at your whim. Do not betray my conclusion that you are the right man for the job. Do not fail us.

From the Office of the Grand Vizier,

Tyrell Praxxus
A range of emotions flushed through the droids mind as he pondered the message. His facial façade over the obsidian glass betrayed nothing but a neutral, if not contemplative gaze. But his grip tensed on the datapad. The secretary after a pregnant pause swallowed, “Are there any orders for me sir?” He wryly prodded.

Carlyle’s gaze slowly met that of the young man. “No.” He slowly drawled, “No. You are dismissed for now ensign.” The secretary bowed his head, before clicking his heels and returning from whence he came. Darkness blanketed the Grand Admiral as he was again blanketed in darkness with the hissing of the security door.


Yes!” Carlyle hissed, rising up from his seat, repulsorlift humming, “Yes, yes, yes!” The Grand Admiral cackled, pumping the air with clenched fists as he rounded his desk. “Kark yes!” He rejoiced. This was it. This was his moment. A time where his service and skills had been recognised. Praxxus and his feelings and musings be damned, this was a victory. A triumph! But such accolades as this could not be met by their own. No. He must be humble. He was nonetheless a man who needed the New Imperial charity and resources. No. There must be respite. Settling down once again, Carlyle drafted his own message.

Vizier Admiral Regent Tyrell Praxxus,

The opportunity granted to me via your message is much appreciated and I am eager to face the challenge. I wish to assure you sir, that the decision to vest your powers in me is one I intend not to make your regret. I accept this accolade with the honour and gravity that it deserves.

I look forward to providing the support for the Dantooine operation, and subsequent victory.

Happy Hunting,

From the Office of the Grand Admiral,

Carlyle Rausgeber
.
Ensign,” Carlyle snapped, finger now on the intercom, “I have communiques to dispatch immediately.” The door hissed open, and the ensign approached the desk. Carlyle had ejected several data cartridges from his desk, and now piled them on. “This first one, is to be dispatched to Nirauan, specifically the Grand Vizier,” Carlyle commanded, handing the ensign the first data packet, “These two, are to be broadcast to Vice Admiral Voss and Colonel Barnabus,” Carlyle added, “And the last four, are to be dispatched to New Imperial Naval command.” Carlyle gruffly barked, “But they are to be authorised with the seal of the Vizier Admiral Regent, and yet with my name.”

The ensign who had been dutifully organising the cartridges into a case paused, and raised an eyebrow. “Are you, the Admiral Regent, sir?” The ensign questioned, curiosity and caution plastered across his youthful features. For the first time in a long time, the face on that black screen smiled.

For now, yes.” Carlyle mused with a palpable smugness emanating from his features. The ensign turned his back and moved to leave when Carlyle spoke up. “One final command however,” He paused, “Prepare a shuttle for dispatch to the Tregessar.” The Grand Admiral added, “And have Commodore Gowe make ready for departure to Munillist.” It was time to prove Praxxus right. He would not fail.