The Ruusan Pacification [Imperial/Public]
Nov 8, 2017 1:32:19 GMT -5
Asenath Parnell and Kruel Zing like this
Post by Lucien E Irridius on Nov 8, 2017 1:32:19 GMT -5
Peace was a lie.
An illusion the masses conceived to convince themselves that there was a barrier between them and conflict. A state-of-being that somehow protected them from the natural truth of all life; that to live is to struggle. There was no 'peace' between the wolves and the sheep. No peace between the locusts and the farmer.
There was only to live and to die. Succeed or fail. Order or Chaos.
The Empire represented the former in all three instances, but only the question of Order and Chaos held any true weight. But to maintain order was not to progress this Utopian lie of 'peace', for Order was only maintained through constant conflict with those who were agents of Chaos. When the predator ate the prey, when the farmer beat away the swarm, when the weak served the worthy; then the natural order was obtained. And that was what the Empire was. Natural Order. But it constantly faced opposition from those agents of chaos and, most recently, the chief among them. Religion and its fanatics.
Stroking his stylus across the datapad, Irridius recorded these thoughts on the forty-fourth page of the collection of memoirs he'd taken upon himself to begin writing. With a self-important grin, he set the pad aside and watched as the digital freehand letters were translated to crisp, typed font across the virtual page. It was important that he keep note of this day, maybe more-so than any other - for today he eluded the same ignorant mistakes as Akio's equalists.
Standing from behind his desk, The Grand Admiral rested a hand on the arm of his Kriin-wood chair, specially imported from Coruscant as result of an auction he'd partaken in some years ago. His fingers danced over the white leather, then traced the age marks on the laminated wood. He rather enjoyed the feel of the dark, cherry-red wood in his hands. Few people in the galaxy had the pleasure of such luxury since the destruction of Aldeeran and he'd be no better than a Trandoshan savage if he did not stop to enjoy it.
Letting his hand rest, his eyes fell on the swirling abyss of Hyperspace outside the single viewport in his chambers. Any second now, he thought, gloves tightening around the arm of the chair, my legacy begins.
The Sith of Ruusan had been a blemish Imperial Intelligence had tolerated as nothing more than distant cultists who posed no threat to The Empire.
Naboo had changed that thinking. Equalist indifference had sparked a war and now it was time to prove that true Imperials within the Empire knew what it took to maintain order. That they knew the universal truth.
"Grand Admiral" the voice of Captain Killian Mares, his XO, suddenly rang from the loudspeakers hidden in the ceiling of the room, to which Irridius offered no signs of startle, "The fleet is dropping out of hyperspace, shall I prepare the bridge for your command?"
"Promptly." Irridius hissed, pulling on each glove as the swirl of hyperspace faded to black and above Ruusan, a storm of daggered hulls appeared.