Chapter 11. From each according to his ability... (I)

Nine years, five months and six days after the Battle of Yavin...

Or forty-fourth year, five months and six days after the Great Resynchronization.

Captain Kalian stood on the bridge of the Steel Aurora, a Victory I-class Star Destroyer, staring stoically at the swirling blue and white vortex of hyperspace as the ship hurtled toward the distant Sprizen sector.

** Sprizen Sector (The Sprizen sector is a region in the galaxy's Outer Rim Territories, containing the planet Abafar) **

Bordering the Ciutric Hegemony, controlled by Prince Admiral Delak Krennel, a prominent ally of Imperial Space, the Sprizen sector comprised around a dozen well-known systems, with many more left unexplored.

The planet Abafar lay in a remote system of the same name, positioned in square H-5 on the tactical grid. It was a place of little significance, so much so that the Imperial Ruling Council, which oversaw this region, hadn't bothered to establish even a minor outpost. The sector itself seemed of such little interest to the Empire that not a single patrol ever ventured there.

Yet here they were, with a Grand Admiral ordering an entire Star Destroyer to this desolate system. It felt like a throwback to the Empire's glory days when Victory-class ships patrolled the galaxy's outskirts. These ships, with their formidable armament and air wings, were more than capable of scattering the rusty, ill-equipped bands of pirates and smugglers that occasionally roamed these regions. Back then, they often operated in pairs—a combination that was nearly unbeatable in the absence of battleships.

But now, the young commander of the Steel Aurora was more concerned with the present than reminiscing about the past.

Why had the Steel Aurora been sent to a place like Abafar? Given that the Grand Admiral only had nine Imperial-class Star Destroyers and just two Victories, excluding Interdictor-class vessels from the frontlines seemed... wasteful. A single Victory could easily overpower a Rebel corvette or frigate, and with a bit of luck, even a Mon Calamari cruiser, the backbone of the Rebel fleet.

Clearly, the Steel Aurora was on an important mission, one significant enough to warrant the presence of a high-ranking officer from the Imperial Security Bureau (ISB). This officer had some business on this forgotten planet, but the Grand Admiral had kept the ship's commander in the dark about the details. Perhaps he deemed it unnecessary for Kalian to know, or maybe the mission was classified, beyond Kalian's clearance level. But the most likely reason was that this was a test.

Rumors were rampant throughout the fleet about why the Grand Admiral, with his nine Star Destroyers, had singled out just six to form his personal armada. No one knew the full story, so naval officers, prone to speculation over drinks, could only guess. The most common theory was that only the commanders and crews of these six ships had earned the Grand Admiral's trust.

In an era when the Imperial Remnant was led by a Grand Admiral for the first time in years—one of the twelve strategic geniuses personally chosen by Emperor Palpatine—the odds of settling the score with the rebels seemed better than ever. And with that in mind, every self-respecting Imperial officer wanted to prove themselves worthy of participating in this grand campaign.

If this mission was indeed a test, then it was imperative to execute it flawlessly, proving to the Grand Admiral that Captain Kalian and his five-thousand-strong crew were ready for active combat. Star Galleons or cruisers might be suitable for patrolling the edges of Imperial Space, but not a Star Destroyer, even a Victory-I class.

"Time until arrival, Captain?" Lieutenant Colonel Astarion asked, appearing suddenly beside Kalian on the bridge. Kalian stifled the reflexive urge to jump, surprised both by the officer's sudden approach and his own instinct to reprimand him for sneaking up on the commander of a warship. But this was an ISB officer; such subtleties were unlikely to concern him.

"Four minutes," Kalian replied, after a quick check of the chronometer. He turned to the crew members stationed on the bridge. "Yellow alert! All crew to report to their combat posts!"

The ship's alarm briefly blared, signaling that the calm of routine operations was over. It was time for action.

The watch commander immediately began relaying orders, ensuring every officer was informed and ready.

Within ninety seconds, every crew member was at their designated station, save for those already on watch. There was no need to double-check; Kalian knew his crew well enough to trust they would meet the required time.

Typically, Imperial fleet ships not heading into a combat zone would exit hyperspace at "green" alert, with only the watch crew on duty and the rest of the personnel either at rest or occupied with other tasks. The "yellow" alert required all crew members to be at their posts—on the gun deck, in the hangar, in the engine room, or wherever their duties took them. "Red" alert meant it was time to launch fighters and interceptors—twenty-four in total—into space, aim the turbolasers, ready the gunners, and load strike missiles or proton torpedoes into their launchers.

The chronometer counted down the final moments of the journey, and the bright tunnel of hyperspace dissolved into the familiar blackness of space, dotted with distant stars.

"Officer on watch," Captain Kalian addressed the officer in charge. "Report the situation."

"No enemy ships detected," the officer confirmed after a quick check with the scanning team. "No allied or civilian vessels either. The orbit is clear."

"Good," Kalian nodded. "Launch duty fighters. Lower the alert level to green. Prepare the landing ships and escort fighters. Lieutenant Colonel Astarion, do you require a separate shuttle?"

"I'll join the landing force," the ISB officer replied. "Place the ship in orbit over the city of Pons Ora. The Confederacy of Independent Systems established a facility there during the Clone Wars to mine Rhydonium, a volatile and explosive fuel. Our mission is to assess what remains and resume mining. I will take command of the ground units—one battalion in the city, another at the mining site."

With that, he turned and exited the bridge.

"So that's why we're here," Kalian mused. An unusual mission, but one that made sense in hindsight.

Rhydonium was well-known across the galaxy—a volatile substance with an energy output far greater than standard fuels. However, its instability meant it never met the safety standards required by most shipbuilders. While it could dramatically boost the performance of small engines, its use often resulted in catastrophic failures, from ruptured fuel lines to explosions in the engine room. The cost of upgrading a ship to safely use Rhydonium was astronomical, making it an impractical choice for widespread adoption. No sane commander would risk their ship by using it, especially on a warship expected to see combat. It was almost suicidal unless one intended to use only small amounts for critical tasks. Despite its potential, the army had never adopted it for ammunition.

But perhaps...

Perhaps the Grand Admiral's orders were precisely about turning this dangerous substance into a new weapon. If so, that would explain everything. Though how could volatile Rhydonium, suited only for "disposable" engines, benefit the fleet? As an explosive? The fleet didn't typically use kinetic ammunition that could employ such a filling.

Yet...

It didn't really matter. Orders were orders, and the Grand Admiral surely had a plan.

Speaking of orders...

"Communications compartment," Captain Kalian called, heading towards the communications station at the rear of the bridge. "Connect me with the Chimera."