Barkeep
Why do we fight? What’s it all for?
These were questions any man in his position asked in the silent darkness where peace was ever illusive. Salem Norongachi had asked himself that more times than he would ever admit, across seven centuries of bloodshed and war. Every time, he entertained the thought that this might be the last, that he wouldn't be dragging the screaming, mangled, bodies of soldiers from another meatgrinder and then asking others to take their place.
In those moments, in those black spaces of time that felt like they would never end, the answer came. It came in the form of the faces, of the unbroken spirit of the men that served under him and an old question, one that cut right to his core: If they wouldn't take a stand, who would?
The Omega Protectorate had started this war, they had brought countless lives to a premature end because of a single man and a single minded rationale that was so full of holes it went beyond hypocritical. If they wavered, if they stepped an inch from this path then what would happen? Would the Fringe take up the fight? Would the Mandalorians? Would the Republic?
No, for whatever reason, and Salem was sure there were many, they stood back and they watched. They watched as the fallacy of righteousness and the stained banner of justice drove the Protectorate forward. Against the former Confederate government, the One Sith and now, by virtue of inheritance, the Abrion Systems Authority.
The old guard were gone, the cowering worms that wanted little more than to prostrate themselves before the status quo. Washed away in a single night of revolution that saw the entire government forged anew.
Naboo, would feel the stroke of a tempered blade first. It was a symbol, a world that few in the Galaxy had not heard of. It was also one of the most heavily guarded the Protectorate had but...if they took Naboo, if they swept away the enemy lines and left their fleets in burning wrecks that only the void would take, they could handle anything. Any world, any situation. The impossible would become possible.
So here he sat, in the cramped confines of a troop transport surrounded by an armada that the CIS had never dreamed of fielding. This would be one of the most pivotal battles of the war and Ayden Cater would learn that the Authority hadn't even begun to fight.
“Jumping in 5...4...3...2…” The ship lurched as it fired into hyperspace.
Death or Glory lay at journey's end.
These were questions any man in his position asked in the silent darkness where peace was ever illusive. Salem Norongachi had asked himself that more times than he would ever admit, across seven centuries of bloodshed and war. Every time, he entertained the thought that this might be the last, that he wouldn't be dragging the screaming, mangled, bodies of soldiers from another meatgrinder and then asking others to take their place.
In those moments, in those black spaces of time that felt like they would never end, the answer came. It came in the form of the faces, of the unbroken spirit of the men that served under him and an old question, one that cut right to his core: If they wouldn't take a stand, who would?
The Omega Protectorate had started this war, they had brought countless lives to a premature end because of a single man and a single minded rationale that was so full of holes it went beyond hypocritical. If they wavered, if they stepped an inch from this path then what would happen? Would the Fringe take up the fight? Would the Mandalorians? Would the Republic?
No, for whatever reason, and Salem was sure there were many, they stood back and they watched. They watched as the fallacy of righteousness and the stained banner of justice drove the Protectorate forward. Against the former Confederate government, the One Sith and now, by virtue of inheritance, the Abrion Systems Authority.
The old guard were gone, the cowering worms that wanted little more than to prostrate themselves before the status quo. Washed away in a single night of revolution that saw the entire government forged anew.
Naboo, would feel the stroke of a tempered blade first. It was a symbol, a world that few in the Galaxy had not heard of. It was also one of the most heavily guarded the Protectorate had but...if they took Naboo, if they swept away the enemy lines and left their fleets in burning wrecks that only the void would take, they could handle anything. Any world, any situation. The impossible would become possible.
So here he sat, in the cramped confines of a troop transport surrounded by an armada that the CIS had never dreamed of fielding. This would be one of the most pivotal battles of the war and Ayden Cater would learn that the Authority hadn't even begun to fight.
“Jumping in 5...4...3...2…” The ship lurched as it fired into hyperspace.
Death or Glory lay at journey's end.