Dominion Tales Of The Empire #1 | Dominion of Archais

[The Contingency]

The grasslands of Archais stretch endlessly beneath the amber sunset, where rolling savannas give way to steep plateaus crowned with settlement. Rivers cut across fertile lowlands, watering thriving settlements of the Arkanian offshoots who once called this world their refuge, distant from the turmoil of the Core.

But that peace has ended.

With the fall of nearby Arkania, the shadow of the Empire has swept across Archais. Imperial banners now hang above the plateaus, stormtroopers patrol the markets, and TIEs streak across the skies. For some, the arrival of Imperial order brings stability and opportunity. For others, it is occupation, chains, and the death of freedom. And yet, beneath the weight of Imperial might, stories unfold.

Perhaps you are a loyal Imperial officer, tasked with pacifying the local population while wrestling with their own conscience. Maybe a Rebel agitator, whispering resistance in the taverns and stirring the restless youth to fight. Then there could also be fleeing Jedi, seeking refuge on the remote plateaus, hunted by both agents of the Dark Side Elite and bounty hunters. The locals are watching their world reshaped by forces beyond their control, they too have a story to tell. This thread is a tapestry of perspectives, a stage where any character may step forward and tell their tale. Whether grand or small, noble or vile, each story is a brushstroke in the wider mural of the Empire's dominion. This thread is one big BYOO.

Archais is occupied. Its people endure. Its skies burn with change.

What story will you tell in the shadow of the Empire?

​

 

[Romi Jade]

ARCHAIS

The horizon roared with the look and feel of occupation, there were even scattered trails of fire hanging in the sky from those who had barely outran the Empire's guns. On Archais, there was a homestead that was tucked against the endless grasslands, probably the only for awhile, many of its surroundings had been churned to mud by Imperial scouts that came and went without warning. There was a healer, a woman, who stacked firewood with one eye on the road, while a mercenary, a burly man, kept a blaster within arm's reach even at supper.

When Romi Jade emerged from the dusk, cloak torn, boots heavy with miles of flight, she carried with her the silence of pursuit. They didn't have much time. She crossed the threshold as though the house were already hers and sat at the rough table where bread rations and a thin stew waited. Without a doubt the Empire would soon be here too.

Everyone ate in quiet, but there was an edge of urgency; the lamplight shuddering with each distant tremor of fighting. There were traded whispers cracking at the tables, spoken of villagers already taken for questioning, of Jedi slipping through the grasslands, bounty hunters on their heels, of families who had run from Arkania only to find Archais braced for the same fate. Them there were curses thrown about the Core, curses over the wasted years of fighting that had led to nothing but more banners, more chains.

Romi -- she said little, her presence was likely more heavier than words, her silence mainly forcing the question -- when the Empire reached this homestead, would they endure it?

---
​

 

[Pious Tapp]

LIVEWIRE​

‘ISB Lieutenant Tapp. Prisoner transfer complete. He’s in cell 16. Be gentle with him.’

Funny thing for me to say, really. I wasn’t in the habit of being gentle.

ISB Lieutenant Tapp. Sounds pompous, doesn’t it? There’s a charmless quality to the name and the rank. I didn’t much care. I always got my target. I always closed the deal.

I dropped the keys to the military truck I’d seconded for my latest hunt on this backwater dust bowl of a planet onto the duty officer’s table. We were of the same rank, same inclination, both survivors of that baptism of mental fire, and in some cases actual fire, that was the sundering of Coruscant near two cycles back. I’d landed up in the ISB and he’d been landed with a desk job on our latest requisition.

Archais.

He gave me a disbelieving look. I wasn’t sure if he was mad at me for dropping the keys, not saluting, or just because he knew I was heading out on the next transit. More and more troops were making planetfall and those from the first wave were already being prepped to head out again, spreading imperial love across this corner of the core. There was a lot of love to go around, that was for sure.

I wasn’t going to stick around to interview the guy. That wasn’t my job this time. I had strict orders. Track him down, detain him, hand him over to the army. Some official, it seemed. Not sure if he was in the army or planetary administration. Heck, I didn’t even know his real name. Sometimes it’s like that. The docket has a number and a serial. No names. People talk. People talk to the wrong people. People talk to the wrong people about things they shouldn’t.

I sat down on the row of chairs that lined the side of the makeshift jail. These troop carriers come pre-fabbed with cells, ready for the detention of whomever the administration deems important enough to deny liberty. I looked at my data pad, wiping the dust from its screen. A small chip appeared in the corner. A tiny crack. I’d need to see to that.

Cracks aren’t good. Not on buildings. Not on starships. Not on data pads and definitely not in people. Those kinds of cracks are fatal. You can plug a gap, solder a panel, but people? Those cracks only get bigger.

The desk officer, who I later found out was named Leeper, sat back, casual as anything, and lit up an iho. He caught my eye, recognising the height and angle of my right eyebrow. That consternation-filled look that quietly uttered ‘really?’

He offered his excuses, smoke billowing from his lungs and nose.

Leeper said, ‘I’m on my break, lieutenant.’ Or words to that effect. I decided to save the chiding for later.

One of the perks and one of the curses of the job was the summary discipline I could deal out to detracting personnel. We were told we could even target superiors if it was warranted. Nobody was foolish enough to try it though. Marching up to the Director or one of the Moffs and crying against the Empire before blasting their throats out with a service pistol was a guaranteed way to end up missing or quicker yet dead and missing.

I decided to give this one a miss. Occupations wear down the occupier as much as the occupied. Out here the comforts run dry quickly, and all you’re left with is smoke, steel, and the smell of men cracking under it.

I looked at the datapad, crack and all, and opened up the comms menu. Three reports waiting. One all the way from Imperial Center. Still could not get used to that name. I knew why they used it. I just did not care. Sue me.

One report was wrapped in all the trimmings of espionage-deterrence. Classified markers, security codes, half a dozen warnings that screamed DO NOT READ. I was allowed to read it. My order. Background on three lowlifes from the lower levels. Knuckle-draggers. We were cleaning up the capital. Cleaning up the Core. We would succeed. One way or another.

Leeper’s voice cut across my thoughts. He was talking to the duty sergeant. I listened in.

‘Lieutenant. The sergeant says the guy in 16 is one for you.’

This would be good. In hindsight, it was not.

‘Does he?’ I asked, casual as I could manage.

Leeper almost sneered. That confused me.

‘Oh yes. This one says he’s been waiting for you.’

I paused. My gut twisted both ways. I wanted to know and I did not. Curiosity and fear, equal measure. Without breaking eye contact, I slid a hand into my pocket and pulled out a discreet communicator. My thumb found the edge.

I spoke quietly into the mouthpiece.

‘We have a live one.’

Kazimir Tragovic