Compromise. The word clung to the back of Lucien's mind, tearing away at him like a cancer eating away at the fibers of everything he was. Compromise was no better than the fruit of defeat itself and as the First Fleet neared Sith Space, the once Grand Admiral could feel that defeat gnawing at his stomach. He had miscalculated after the Galactic Empire turned its back on the very ideals from which it took its namesake and only now were those miscalculations returning to sully all that he had achieved. Irridius inhaled sharply, smoldering green eyes studying the holographic navigation charts floating about the center of his quarters.
A ghostly green orb traveled along a narrow, faded-blue line - accompanying it were several triangular apparitions. Together, like a tightly grouped pack of hunting dogs, the orb and its followers sped down the narrow line, which led to a projection of a fiery orange world, wreathed in a thick veil of clouds and dotted with countless lights. Bastion, once a stronghold of illustrious Galactic Empire under Sheev Palpatine and now it was the capital of a far more religious Empire.
Joining the Sith had never been an option, not in Lucien's mind. The Sith were just as much pretenders to true Imperial Culture as Tanomas Graf or his First Order cohorts. Things were no longer so simple, however. The galaxy had changed far too much and far too quickly for Lucien's plans to adapt. The Rebirth could sustain his men, but there was no progress to be made in their tactics any longer. The navy had done what it could to keep control of planets in the Unknown Regions, using the threat of destruction and embargo to maintain Imperial Justice...but more and more factions of aligned planets were forming to battle not only himself but the countless other warlords who'd fled after the fall of the Imperial Bloc.
His plans had failed. He hated that fact...but there was always another way. If he could not forge his Empire on his own, he would do what he had done with the likes of Graf. He would consolidate his own power from elsewhere - until the time was right. Unfortunately that power could be found in few places in this galaxy. Now he was forced to compromise. He was forced to align with The Sith.
Standing from the pristine, museum-like chair he had been favoring, Lucien marched briskly to the view port of his quarters. His serpentine eyes glimpsed the holoprojection once more. The Rebirth and First Fleet, as represented by the orb and its escort of triangular apparitions, were just nearing the edge of Bastion's system.
At once, the miasma of hyperspace melted away.
The Rebirth blasted into reality, it's shadow engulfing the twelve ships that comprised the defectors from the original First Fleet. Irridius pulled at the cloud-white gloves he wore - tightening them like a second pair of skin before he hailed the Sith fleets.
In a voice as cold and commanding as it would have been with his own men, Irridius spoke to the Sith listening "Attention, Sith Forces, I am Admiral Lucien Eland Irridius of the Imperial First Fleet. My arrival is expected by your Emperor and I, in turn, expect that you will show me to him without delay."
