Supreme Chancellor Emil Ro was nested in the depths of the New Republic Senate Building, but his face was broadcasting on an encrypted channel lightyears away on the bridge of the Starhawk III-class battleship Nightbringer. The Nightbringer was one of eight Starhawks in the New Republic’s Seventh Fleet, and in between them were Nebulon-D frigates escorting Republic Tapani-class cruisers, as well as an old Imperial-era Interdictor-class Star Destroyer. The fleet was part of Emil’s plan to put together a response team should the Sith ever make a move that required one. That time had come at last.
The fleet dropped out of lightspeed above Denon in the Denon system of the Inner Rim. Sith territory, so close to the New Republic. At once, as if the ships were dancers responding to choreographed moves, the fleet spread out, blocking any chance for traffic to access or leave the planet. They ignored attempts to establish contact. This was not going to be a negotiable visit. This was retaliation. The genocide of Firrerre could not go without a response. The Sith had to know they could not move as they liked in the galaxy without consequences.
“Chancellor,” Grand Admiral Brum said into the hologram beaming from Coruscant. “The fleet is in position and awaiting your orders.”
“Very good, Grand Admiral,” Emil said. The room around him was deathly silent. Everyone knew what was about to happen. “You have your orders. Just the military targets and important communication satellites. After that, maintain the blockade. Not one ship is to get on or off Denon unless I say so. Am I perfectly clear?”
“Crystal, sir. We will begin at once.”
And so they did. Fire rained down on Denon as military installations and major communication satellites were reduced to smoldering rubble. The attack was as quick as it was brutal, and by the time it was done, not only did columns of smoke rise high into Denon’s atmosphere, but there was no chance of getting a message off-world. The Imperial Interdictor used the silence after the attack to engage its interdiction fields. As of that moment, Denon was officially cut off from the Sith—cut off from the galaxy. And a New Iron Blockade was formed.
Emil Ro reclined back into his seat. He didn’t feel satisfaction for what he’d done, but he didn’t feel regret either. Instead, a wave of coldness penetrated him, though there was no draft in the room and the whir of so many machines should be making him hot instead. It’s your anger, something within him said, though he didn’t know why he thought so. He crushed the thought with a clenched fist, blissfully unaware that the action had crushed a nearby pen-holder.
The deed had gone unnoticed by most of his staff, who were too focused on monitoring the situation over Denon. But Joost, just a political aide, and standing silently in the back, had seen the whole thing. He eyed the Chancellor, then the container. Emil had not been the same since he met with that Jedi. Something in him had changed then; and Joost wasn’t sure he liked where that change was taking him.
Last edited: