The Doctrine

Posted on Sun Apr 10th, 2022 @ 10:45am by Mentis & Thane & Kalen "Rex" Vickers & Valavai Tarses

2,950 words; about a 15 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Disra Palace, Palatial District, Ravelin, Bastion
Timeline: Late Evening (Day Three, Week Four)

OLD (From "Palatial Congress")

Continuing the thought, Bomoor added, "If you are agreeable to securing their release from their current holding cells, we can ensure that they also aid you whatever projects you believe will be fruitful in rooting out the GalactaWerks influence on your world."

"I can certainly agree to that," Tarses affirmed, "but only on the condition that you both share equal responsibility for their behavior. I am willing to overlook their actions at the research labs, but now that you are within the heart of our inner sanctum, it will be virtually impossible to cover up any further irrational actions for the short-term. Please make certain your companions recognize that we must maintain discretion for the time being if we are to succeed in restoring Bastion's sovereignty."

"Your Excellency," Thane said, with a growing level of confidence having entered his carefully-enunciated voice, "if we succeed, it is my vision that it is not merely Bastion's sovereignty that we restore." He looked to his Ithorian friend and offered him a satisfied nod, before looking back to their newfound ally once more. "We will do our part. GalactaWerks will be excised and this empire will be whole once more."

NEW

"Is your patriotism genuine, Grand Moff Tarses," Thane began, stood back within the head of state's balcony-adjoining parlour, "or is this a practised performance for your people?"

The young Sith had kept out of sight during the Grand Moff's stirring verbal performance on the nearby balcony. Whilst Disra Palace was not in a particularly public-accessible location, the trickery of modern science had allowed real-time holographic recordings to be broadcast across the Bastion Moff Empire, and even projected onto state buildings to give the illusion of a grand public address by their leader, as if he had been present at every festival to mark their Empire Day.

The balcony used was of a grand design itself, but had all of the necessary security measures in place to prevent any opportunistic assassins from following through ill-conceived attempts on the Grand Moff's life, even though the chances of success would have been minimal, anyway. As a show of leadership and tradition, Tarses had also been flanked by two of the crimson-clad palatial guards, who had followed the older Human back into the parlour after the address. They had been swiftly dismissed, with Tarses either trusting that his new ally would not murder him and as a show of faith, or simply as a power play. Regardless, the two of them were once again alone together.

"Both," Tarses replied as he stepped away from the balcony and out of public view. "They combine to uphold the most important part of our continued survival: tradition." A junior officer waiting nearby presented the Grand Moff a datapad. "Hm, what have we here?" He quickly withdrew from his dress uniform trouser pocket what looked like a monocle, but then he flicked his wrist and the monocle extended to a pair of rimless reading glasses which required him to lower his brows to hold in place. He skimmed the report then thrusted it back into the officer's hands and removed his glasses. "Denied. Tell the Moff his request will not be considered at the meeting. That sector remains off-limits." The officer saluted and promptly departed the office. "But there are those that feel tradition is a weakness," Tarses added in Thane's direction with a sidelong glance as he closed his glasses back into a monocle and pocketed it. "As a man raised in tradition yourself, and later walked away from it, what is your point of view on the subject, I wonder?"

Thane did not answer immediately, the question prompting him to carefully consider his response. Just he was constantly assessing this politician that he had elected to support in the internal power struggle of a foreign nation, so too was Tarses judging the merits and worth of his alliance with the nascent Sith and his fellows, as his own decisions could lead to ruination for him amongst his countrymen. Each step must be carefully taken, Thane knew, as they entered into this most tentative stage of their partnership, for all their sakes.

"Tradition means giving power to the most obscure group of all - those that are already gone. It is the democracy of the dead... but it would be wrong to ignore it," he finally said. "I am a product of many traditions and views, Grand Moff Tarses, and I carry each of them with me. Caanan, Jedi, Human... Sith. Most importantly, though, I am dedicated to my own truth. Not the ones laid for me by others, and I will not let that be compromised." Thane's eyes peered into Tarses'. The look was not intended as a challenge, but he was also not going to let passing philosophies be dictated by a desire to work harmoniously. "You do not strike me as a man who is so easily led by the principles of the dead, either."

"Ah, I see your strange abilities do not include mind-reading," Tarses said with a soft chuckle as he talked and strode casually for the door.

Thane returned a sly smile of his own. "Subtle suggestions, and nothing so overt with one as focused as your good self."

"I am guided by those old principles which the public unanimously considers to be good," Tarses said. "My father once said that traditions aren't good because they're traditions. Things are not good just because they're old. They're old and become traditions if they're good. Take that rank you now bear on your chest. That represents a role that is part of the greater good. Order, unity, strength, and resolve. That is good. That is right."

Those were hard tenets to reject, Thane accepted, his own resolve becoming more committed with each passing moment he existed within this peculiar relic of the empires of old. He had yet to entirely acclimatise to the notion that this pariah state, reclusive and born from a twisted autocratic fascism, had developed such refined concepts of order and structure.

"Now," Tarses continued, "let us be off. You and I have an important duty to attend to."

Thane fell into step with the other man as they began their journey through the palace. A couple of crimson-armoured stormtroopers, the type Thane and Bomoor had believed they had so elegantly crept by during their invasion of the building, kept stride behind the pair, making no comment to each other or the leading men.

"I have much admiration for what you have achieved here, Grand Moff Tarses," Thane said, providing voice to his previous thoughts on Bastion's developments and status. "The culture, the sophistication, the philosophy... the military mindset that drives the order and sense of purpose amongst your people and much of your government is something I struggle to not marvel at in some form."

The young Sith paused only briefly to offer a cursory glance at some of the artwork adorning the walls, noticing some severe Mandalorian surrealism had found its way into Tarses' personal gallery - likely spoils of war from their various conflicts with the now-settled galactic marauders.

"Few would have conceived in their stagnancy, from the comfort of their plush chairs within the Galactic Senate, that Bastion would have achieved so much in relative isolation over these many centuries, hard-won through labour, conflict and pride." Thane glanced to Tarses as he spoke, noticing the elder man kept his focus forward, his eyes steely, although he made every effort to acknowledge any personnel they encountered. "I imagine it would bring much fear into the senators and representatives of that corrupt institution. Order and ambition are the death of their world, built upon the twin conflicting falsehoods of equality and corporate economics."

And the complicity of the Jedi, he added silently to himself, as he felt an ember of anger flickering within himself. Or, he wondered, was that his own pride?

"The Senate..." Tarses said with a scoff as two scarlet armoured guards pressed keys and inserted slender security cylinders in tandem on control panels flanking each side of the Grand Moff's personal turbovator, "...that wretched hive of scum and charlatans is merely a bloated old symbol. The problem runs deeper, young man."

The turbovator doors opened and Tarses led the way in with Thane. "The corruption you speak of dwells in the hearts and minds of every citizen of the Republic: Democracy..." Tarses pressed his palm on a digital side panel which scanned not only his palm and fingerprints, but his genetic profile and life signs as well. The lift then began its long descent. "...Democracy is the root of the problem we have struggled with since the inception of the First Galactic Empire. It's by no means 'order', as you say. Rule by the mob through representative proxy is, by its very definition, nothing more than controlled chaos, and that it is now spreading like an unstoppable disease. What if I told you that right now, at this very moment, we are under attack by the Republic? Would that surprise you? Can you guess what weapon they are using against us?"

For a moment, the mere suggestion that the Republic had actually taken any angle against Bastion took Thane by surprise. He neither considered them actually brave and ambitious enough to take on such an advanced, albeit small, power, let alone actually have the competence to do it effectively. After all, they had not truly ever managed to actually defeat the armed farmers of the Outer Rim Alliance over two centuries of conflict. The very fact that the Third Republic was so incapable of launching any true war or offensive was testament to how stagnant and rotten the nation had become - how easily subsumed it now was by twisted concepts, greed and vanity.

"GalactaWerks?" He queried in a flat tone, trying to surmise the Grand Moff's meaning, as well as following his own thought to its natural conclusion.

Tarses nodded curtly, his eyes narrowing in disgust at the mere mention of the company's name from Thane's lips. "Proxy warfare; that is the Republic's way," he said. "But not with weapons, but through a monopoly on goods and services. At least the Mandalorians face us on the battlefield and make their intentions direct through blasters and bombs, but the Republic uses political subversion and corporatism to undermine its enemies."

It was at this point that the view outside the lift gave way to a vast subterranean drydock where the colossal starship Thane and Bomoor had previously lain eyes upon on their way to their first encounter with the Grand Moff could be seen yet again.

"I may be old fashioned," Tarses said in the direction of the grand vessel still under construction, "but I still think the old ways suit our purposes quite nicely." The turbovator came to a stop and the clear side door opened out to a wide metal platform with a small shuttle awaiting the two men along with heavily armed guards in red armour standing watch. "We had to play the game with GalactaWerks for a long time. That time is soon coming to an end. I've brought you here to act as my right hand in conducting an unannounced inspection. You and I are going to tour the critical sections of this ship, stem to stern. I want your insight on what you see. I want to hear what a man guided by the Force thinks of our work. We need perspective that isn't our own. An outsider's point of view, that is. Any questions before we arrive?"

Thane remained as awed now by the impressive display of a vessel as he was when he and Bomoor had first arrived in Bastion's capital city. Nothing of this magnitude had existed, as far as he was aware, for centuries, so long had the Republic abandoned notions of such grand ships and installations in favour of task forces and peacekeeping agencies. For centuries, the notions of superweapons, super star destroyers and other classes in that ilk had been considered too reminiscent of the troubled and dangerous empires of old.

As Thane considered the sheer magnitude of this ship Bastion had built with Tarses, he decided not to ask a question, but to provide his first perspective.

"Whatever their faults philosophically and for the galaxy," he began, "GalactaWerks appreciates what is necessary to bring a galaxy to heel. When confronting the sheer magnitudes of galactic warfare and dominance, nothing less than gargantuan displays and confirmation of power, through threat or use of extreme and prejudicial force, will allow any group to truly sway the destinies of trillions of beings."

During his diatribes against the Republic and Jedi to Amare and others, or when espousing his burgeoning spiritual views under the tutelage of Darth Bane's holocron, Thane had honed his attitudes and beliefs regarding individual supremacy and the righteousness and merit of his Sith cause and power, but that had only born forays into the criminal underworld, with light manipulations of local politics and black market sway and knowledge. Only now was he giving more consideration to the broader implications, as Grand Moff Tarses made it clear that such influence was more than the multi-generational fancy of a fallen Dark Lord.

Whatever reply Tarses prepared for the younger Human was cut short by the heavy but precise footfalls of an approaching figure, which drew the attention of both men. It was a middle-aged Bastion officer, a crisp uniform with the bars and cylinders denoting his rank of major glinting brightly in the artificial light of the advanced facility.

"Your Excellency, my Lord Commissar," he stated hurriedly, nodding to them both and only allowing himself the briefest of longer glances at Thane. "I apologise profusely for the interruption, but your agents - they insist-"

"That's not how I put it!" A familiar voice called from behind the major, as its owner turned into sight, his green duster coat flapping behind Rex as he took great strides towards Thane and Tarses. In step with him was Mentis, eyes shifting at the tone his oft-hapless companion had taken. As he reached the other Humans, Rex himself seemed to suddenly appreciate the uncharacteristic defiance he had exhibited, and there was noticeable shrinkage in his presence now that he had the attention of them all.

A gambler and a gunslinger, Thane considered of the swarthy smuggler, that courts with death, spice and Hutts, but not so bravely with politicians and allies. Now turned to face both Rex and the Rattataki former cultist, the young Sith placed his hands on his hips, giving particular visual attention to Mentis.

"Agents?" He echoed the word utilised by the major, inwardly and not so discreetly wondering at how accurate that word could ever be for these two - these two that had wrought such chaos during their extracurricular activities so recently on Naboo.

"They returned to the Corellian freighter, declaring that they had news relevant to your operations," the major inserted, having restored his military composure, hands clasped behind his back and his posture stiff before his commander-in-chief. A faint scar could just be made out that lined the circumference of the man's right eye, like a crescent moon lightly carved around the socket.

As Thane briefly examined the Imperial officer, he detected some of the man's surface thoughts and feelings. An ardent professional, stoic like so many within the upper echelons of this nation's military forces, he was not an emotional creature, and his sense of duty overrode anything that was fearful or instinctive about him - a polished weapon, in some ways. Nevertheless, there was a disdain for the casually-clad smuggler and Mentis, and a low-level, repressed fear of Thane.

That, at least, the major shared with Rex.

Perhaps not sure how to respond to Thane’s unguarded thoughts about their activities with the noble house on Naboo, Rex did not reply straight away, but Mentis stepped forwards and, after a short glance at his Sith crewmate, turned to face the Imperial leader.

It was possibly the pale humanoid’s years of servitude to a man he once believed was the centre of the universe that made him so willing to speak directly to the figurehead of the Bastion Empire, but he stood firmly but respectfully as he reported to Tarses, much like the officer that had brought them.

“Apologies for our hasty appearance, Grand Moff, but my companion and I were instructed to seek evidence of a secret project involving Mandalorian iron,” he gestured backwards towards Rex, “And we believe we have found just that. It seemed worth seeking an audience.”

"Obviously," Thane inserted, in spite of Mentis' decision to address Tarses, although he did not inwardly challenge that choice - the Grand Moff was the senior figure, but he was not going to neglect his role and responsibility towards the Rattataki or smuggler. For his own part, he decided to overlook Rex as he continued addressing the subject. "And what have you learned - something of note, to arrive so promptly?"

“Skilled Beskar workers are being head-hunted to work outside Bastion space refining the metal for a secret project,” Mentis revealed as prompted by Thane, “They are recruiting great numbers but all under the radar, being promised a hefty salary so long as they don’t have many questions about where they are going to.”

He then added with additional gravitas, “Grand Moff, unless you are aware of this secret recruiting, I believe your fears of a conspiracy involving GalactaWerks and members of your government are all too real.”

TBC

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