Rally Round

[Tiberius Anar]

"...scanners at all the entryways and a rapid response team of five in each section should those operating them require back up."

"Good," Colonel Anatoly Breber, the head of the guard detail asigned to protect the Chancellor looked over the plans in front of him, "And the punch out?"

"If we have to move him quickly the carriers will take him out through this door along this corridor and out here," a finger traced a path across the plans, "He'll be in the air in three minutes, fifteen seconds. Then five minutes to the Chancellery, six to the lift point."

The carriers were the guards detailed to take the protectee to safety in the event of an attack or other emergency. Their name came from the fact that it was not unknown for bodyguards to literally carry their guy out of danger- politicians are not always the quickest people when it comes to moving. As for the lift point was where a shuttle was kept ready to take the Chancellor off-world should an emergency warrant it.

"Ok," Breber looked down his list. Only one detail left. "Where's the nearest hospital?"

* * *

"I don't want the cameras to pick them up."

"They're the Party Chairs."

"And I don't want the cameras to pick them up."

The arguement had been running on for quite some time, at ever increasing levels, for a week. Now it was the turn of the Deputy Directors of Communications to fight over it.

Adol Sul tried again, "Why?" He asked and then cut across the answer, "Because you don't want him to be upstaged."

"You're damned right I don't," shot back Arak Moss, "He's giving the speech. We want the focus to be on him."

"No we want the focus to be on Party unity."

"We want the focus to be on national unity."

"Which comes through the unity of the Party. That unity is best shown..."

"Which is best shown by having one man on screen."

"No!" snapped Sul, "It is best shown by having the Party bosses behind him."

"To look bored."

"To look supportive."

"Which we will get at the start. Then we should cut the angles so that we just get him."

"Oh come on..."

***

"No! No! No!" the irate band master, "You're coming in too slow. Bassoons keep up!"

***

"This is a reminder to all viewers that this week's episode of the drama Secton 12: Counter Espionage will be shown tomorrow. In its place, Datacast 32 will be bringing you live coverage of Chancellor Anar's address to the All Party Rally..."

"Aw great!" growsed a heavy set maintenance worker to his neighbour at the bar, "And I really wanted to see what happened to that mongrel spy. Can you believe that, guy?"

The last episode of Section 12 had been a real hit, with the daring Security Agent Dana Ulick moving to uncover a halfbreed humanoid turned spy at a government support agency. The second part was being eagerly awaited.

"I know what you mean." The neighbour was a recent convert to the programme. "Shouldn't have let him in, that's the problem. Need everyone to think the same."

"So now we have to put up with Party propaganda, instead? It's just so blatant..."

[Tiberius Anar]

Tiberius Anar was accustomed to travel in a certain style. His position entitled him to it. A fast vehicle, escorts in front and behind, bodyguards, intersections closed, his path cleared by Imperial Centre's traffic controllers. These were the signs of his rank, the tangible benefits of years of devoted service to the people of the Empire, the Emperor and the New Order. After all, didn't he deserve a little comfort?

Not that he felt terribly comfortable right now. His rapidly moving hovercade was transporting him to a converted grav-ball arena. In place of the playing surface there were now seats. One side of the arena's tiered seating had been re-arranged to accomodate a stage. A stage he would be walking on to in a little less than an hour. A stage on which he was going to give a speech.

Speeches were not unusual in his line of work of course. As Chancellor he had given a fair number of speeches. As Party Gen-Sec he had made more than a few forays into demogogery. This speech, however, was rather different.

In the past he had been addressing audiences of a certain intellectual calibre. Audiences who could appreciate the finer points of ideological debate, who could wrestle with the intricacies of policy, who could sit through an hour of detailed policy analysis and think it worth it. Audiences he understood. Not today. Today he would be addressing an audience of people he could barely understand and who could barely understand him in return. Today he as going to be speaking to the plebs.

"I hope this works," he sighed to himself as he re-read the text of the speech for the fiftieth time.

[Tiberius Anar]

The banked seating facing the stage was packed with people. Almost all of them was in a uniform of one sort or another.

Here was a block of black clad stormtroopers attending as part of political indoctrination. Over to their left a massive patch of pale blue marked members of the Sub-Adult Group of COMPNOR. Here a knot of red, where members of Imperial Intelligence had installed themselves, there a strip of grey where sat a contingent of naval officers, elsewhere a bank of olive green wearing army men stood.

The sight was amazing. The noise was immense. Chants rang out from enthused youths. Greetings were exchanged. Disputes were had, whilst around it all moved a seemingly impenetrable sheild of protection agents and stormtroopers.

[Byl Laprovik]

They all looked like ants. All different kinds of ants milling about. Red, black, etc. The Empire had a panache for that kind of uniform color coordination. Somehow, the most evil people in the galaxy were also some of the best dressed. They must be compensating for something they're missing, trying to make the A-list into heaven. Douchebags.

A blonde lady caught Byl's eye a few rows down from him, and he caught hers. They exchanged a friendly smile, and as she turned back to look at her Chancellor, Byl lingered a bit to check her out. Pretty hot little thing.

His high collar began to chafe at his neck, and he adjusted it. According to his bars, he was a second lieutenant, which struck him as a bit offensive. As if joining a hallowed cadre of washouts, retards, and closet homosexuals wasn't enough, in this Empire's army, he got a demotion from his commission in the Alliance.

The uniform had cost him fifty credits and ten grams of glitterstim to buy off of a washout who'd apparently gotten lost in the Imperial army somewhere on the way to a free college education. Had to buy some bigger boots elsewhere, but everything else fit to some degree. Of course, all the fitting in the world doesn't mean a damn thing when you're wearing a suit of pure starch.

He tapped his wrist comm and spoke into it, slightly over the din of cheering around him.

"You there?"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Wouldn't be anywhere else if you paid me." Lilaena brushed back her ash blonde hair and adjusted her uniform. "Everything is good here."

She exited the vehicle and leaned against the side. The noise of the rally was loud enough that she could hear it from where she was, even though she was well out of the security perimeter. The only problem with this partnership was that while she'd provided the information and given Byl a way into the rally, he'd insisted on being the one on site. She was relegated to a back up position where she couldn't see anything.

Should be able to hear it though. She pulled out a stim and lit it up, letting it dangle from her fingers at her side. "Did you straighten up the house before you left?"

[Lamar Starworth]

The day was long, like all the rest. Nothing eventful seemed to happened, even with the monstrous crowd in the background. All the same routines that he had seen before. This lifestyle was becoming tiresome. Being a stormtrooper carried a career of religious rituals all for one Deity, the Empire.

Lamar was just another face covered in the white shell. He had accomplished a few things since his start, but still he was nothing unique. Just another body to be disposed of by a Rebel adversary. Somehow he had managed to conquer a few of the challenges, but as he had started he was on duty of security. After all the claps, and stations he encountered, he was still just a petty stormtrooper, with a blaster and a squad to move around perimeters.

Security wasn't pushover work, but definitely not exciting. Right, left, right left it went. The trots leaving stamps in the ground, mailing nature the Imperial presence. Although the ground around the stadium perimeters was not soft, the boots were harder. Dust continued to kick up as Lamar led the small fleet. Despite the normality of the security measures, Lamar was dressed in the least likely attire. Draped in the normal shock trooper wear, he was distinguished amidst the rest of fellow troopers. The modified helmet were embedded with vents, allowing the air to slide smoothly into the covered nostrils. Even the left shoulder held a difference to the normal stormtrooper attire. A bulge of disfigured white, resembling the tips of mountains, was plastered at the joint of his arm to collar bone.

Nonetheless, he was just another face--no matter what fleet he led. The memorable faces were inside, on a stage. He was on different stages, one where death seemed always imminent and his life was the least favored.

Pressing his hand to his earpiece, Lamar requested orders. After a rant from the commanding center, he headed out. Hopefully a stray cat or something was in the area to cause some excitement. There certainly wasn't anything else to do when all the fun was inside.

[Tiberius Anar]

A party official of indeterminate rank and possessed of indifferent oratorical capacities was treating the vast crowd to a tirade against the evils of diversity. Seated behind him on the stage was a glittering array of party leaders. Among their number could be found several ministers, four agency directors, four admirals and seven generals. Like the crowd they applauded at the right times, occasionally coming to their feet when the official made a particualrly good point (no doubt thanks to help from a team of well-paid speech writers.)

The final ovation rolled around the stadium as the call went over the earpieces of the various security forces that the Chancellor was two minutes away. The Imperial machine was working with its usual clockwork precision.

[Bette Davis]

Bette stood at attention at the back of the stage, her dress uniform clean and pressed neatly and her hair fastened securely to the back of her head. As one of the higher ranking female officers in the fleet as a Flight Commander of Shadow Squadron, she was acting as a poster child for the 'new' Empire.

Not that the bigotry or sexism of the Imperial Navy had changed, but it was important how things appeared. Shadow Squadron was effectively dissembled for the time being, due to heavy losses at Endor and a lack of strong leadership. Her current assignment was training new TIE pilots, which of course was more trouble than it was worth. Until TIE fighters were all equipped with shields the turnover rate for pilots would start to outstrip their recruiting efforts.

Bette's head pounded with the leftovers of last night's binge drinking episode. Val had finally left her for good and had been transferred off of the ISD Termagant, and Captain Kellison was making her life miserable, as per usual. The cherry on the cake was being assigned to this rally. She closed her eyes lightly to block out the harsh sunlight and wished she was dead.

[Byl Laprovik]

Originally posted by Lilaena De'Ville
"Did you straighten up the house before you left?"

"Of course I did, sweety. I know we're expecting company later."

Byl smiled a fake smile, looking about at the assembled ranks with casual interest. The dry speeches were beginning, so it was time to at least feign a little interest in what the Imperial brass had to say at this little rally.

"Can't talk much. The speech is starting. I'll see you after it's all done. We'll have a blast later tonight. Love you, peaches."

Byl kissed into the comm and closed the channel, resuming his vigil.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Love you too." She clicked off the comm and placed it back on her belt. Tapping the side of her spectacles, the local holofeed flickered into existence where only she could see it.

The speeches were starting, and she felt her pulse rate quicken. We'll have a blast.

Indeed they would.

[Tiberius Anar]

Yet another official approached the podium and began to extoll the virtues of the next speaker. His voiced echoed around the stadium and along dingy corridors and out over to the streets around.

"Members of the Party! Our next speaker is one well known to us..."

The first of the procession of vehicles bearing Anar to his destination slid into place at the back entrance to the stage. Lights flashed, doors opened and slammed, the feet of heavy set men smacked the pavement.

...a close ally of our late lamented Emperor...

The limosine pulled into place. A bodyguard moved to the rear door, jerking it open and standing to attention. A highly polished shoe swung out to the paved space before the door.

...a leading scholar of the New Order...

A procession of feet made its way down a linolium lined corridor. Aides jostled for space near the centre of the group. The centre of the group marched on.

...gifted with insight and wisdom...

Up the stairs went the procession. Bodyguards, aides, Anar, aides, bodyguards then others still.

...an orator with style and grace...

Anar rolled his eyes.

...our friend...

An aide straightened the tailored suit.

...our guide in time of need...

A folder was pressed into the manicured hand of 'the guide.'

...the Chancellor of the Empire...

"Oh, gods," intoned the august figure under his breath.

Our General Secretary, Tiberius Drusus Nero Anar!

The applause were like a wave washing across the vast crowd, it moved as a fluid disturbed does- rippling back and forth. The cheer that went up was thunderous, cracking across that immense space like a force of nature but it did not die, continuing for a long time. The sound rushed forward to meet the Chancellor as he strode out onto the stage. It drowned out all other noises even that of his heart which, moments ago, had been beating a raucous tattoo against his ribs.

He walked towards the podium...

[Tal Kellison]

The thunderous applause were echoed thousands of miles away, albeit at a much reduced volume. In his quarters, aboard the Termagent, lazily orbiting Coruscant, Captain Tal Kellison was watching the datacast with rapt attention.

Oh how he wished he could be there. Though he was easily one of the greatest officers in the Imperial Navy (in his own mind, at least), he also had very little seniority and was thus passed over when the guest list was being created. At least Commander Davis was attending as his proxy. He had no doubt she would represent him well; after all, she had learned a lot from him. He was like a mentor to her and the rest of Shadow Squadron -- they looked up to him.

Captain Kellison absorbed the pomp and pagentry of the rally like a tree took in water. THIS, this was the sort of day a man dreamed about. The glory of the Empire was on display for all to see and the Captain, for one, couldn't get enough of it.

Finally, the Secretary appeared before the podium, looking as dignified as anyone Captain Kellison had ever seen, his eyes clouded with loyalty and patriotism. True, Anar wasn't a military man, but Captain Kellison still respected the hell out of the man. After all, it took a real patriot to do what he had done to hold the Empire together after the unfortunate death of the late, glorious Emperor Palpatine.

[Lamar Starworth]

A bolt of sheer red dashed out of the blaster. In a blink a nuna's left leg flew off in solitary to the side. The blast had managed to leave the fragile, weak animal with only one stable pod to take balance. It was renown that a nuna had near to no intelligence, and with a matter of seconds it was onto the ground.

Chuckles and giggles blossomed across the headsets of Lamar's squad. They always got a kick out of such things. He didn't. Boredom was a sickness that he couldn't deal with, even with the protective armor of the herald Stormtrooper. All he could reserve was a frown, holding a stark contrast to his comrades. Albeit they were underlings to his operation, they were still friends. He couldn't share in the laughter and humor.

Not a single face had shown itself around the coliseum's perimeters. All the grouping had to deal with were stray animals and a few planted objects. It was completely embarrassing to be subjected to such foolishness. Yet, he had to deal with it. He was no Emperor, much less a Commander of much more than a platoon for today. He had no say in the situation, besides his men. And even they continued on with their idiocy in boredom when he beckoned a stop.

"Come on men, lets move out. This is cu pa fodder." He said, pressing into his helmet's headset.

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar reached the lectern from which he was to speak. From the other side (that visible to the audience) it looked rather grand- a large wooden pillar supporting a substantial looking black box on the face of which was the ubiquitous cog-wheel emblem of the Party and of the Empire. From this side it seemed not so much, grand as functional. The box like upper structure concealed a flat surface on which was set a loose leaf binder a pitcher of water and a glass- the box like quality of the upper structure was intended to conceal these mundane items.

With practiced ease Anar flipped the binder open. It contain a hardcopy of his speech- a safeguard against the failure of the prompter screens placed at intervals around an arc before him. Barely noticeable to the crowd these ensured that Anar would seem look at the crowd when he addressed them.

Anar looked at the crowd. He thought better of it. The size of this audience and their expectations were just a little too great for him to consider calmly right now.

Then he realised that they were applauding him. That was normal of course. People always applauded at these things- even if nothing had been said. It was what one did.

He acknowlegded the applause somewhat hesitantly. His hands went up into the air and he waved them back and forth. They were held parralel to one another and moved in synchrony as if he was shaking an invisible container of some sort. Nobody ever waves naturally when it is directed at a large body of people. Anar looked hesitant but dignified.

"Fellow citizens," his voice boomed out across the crowd and their aplause and cheers died down some what, "My fellow citizens, The Empire Endures!"

This set off another wave of whooping and hollaring. Anar was taken aback but did not show it.

"The dissenters and traitors have struck at us in every way imaginable and yet the Empire Endures.

"They have attacked our soldiers. They have attacked our ships. They have attacked our bases and our cities and, yet, the Empire Endures!" His voice gathered speed, the tempo of the words pulling him along as he spoke them.

"They have shot at us, stabbed us and bombed us. They have killed soldiers, destroyed ships taken from us our friends and our relations and, yet, the Empire Endures!

"We have lost people. People who were good and loyal comrades. Citizens of the Empire obeying the law and answering the call of the duty. We have lost our leader by the hand of a traitor assassin.

Yet, in spite of all of this, the Empire is still here! The Empire has Endured!"

The cheers which had not died away, only died down redoubled. Hands clapped, feet stamped. Cameras flashed and whirred. Others, more sober for one reason or another, hung on to see what he might say next. Or what might happen.

[Bette Davis]

We have lost people. People who were good and loyal comrades. That's for damn sure. The Empire never allowed inquiries into why they thought that shields for TIE fighters was an 'unnecessary' expense. The standard TIE was cheaper, and easier to build than the newer, shielded variants. That was probably the only answer needed.

But even with shields, there were deaths. At Endor the Shadow Squadron that was had nearly been wiped out.

Bette glanced to the side, noticed the other 'faces of the Empire' were clapping, and joined in until the General Secretary began speaking again.

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar felt a great wave of elation moving through him as the cheers of the crowd hit him. This was definitely different from a speech to the Party's Policy Forum or to a University seminar. This had an energy all of its own. It was like a drug. He carried on, his words coming with increasing confidence and increasing force.

"How has this been done, my friends?" he asked of the crowd- reverting for a moment to the teacher he had once been. With those words he caught the crowd's attention, quietening them as they waited to hear the answer.

"Through adherence to the principles of the New Order. Through adherence to the principles of Palpatine.

"Through unity.

"Through strength won by that unity.

"Through the central direction of that strength.

"But above all, through the certainty that our cause is just, that to save civilisation firm action is required."

A mass expression of approval arose from the crowd. They were more sober this time. Their hands pounded together more than their throats gave vent to cries of approbation. A vast wave of movement caught the speaker's eye as, across the banks of seating people came to their feet to applaude.

[Tal Kellison]

"How has this been done, my friends?"

"Through adherence to the principles of the New Order. Through adherence to the principles of Palpatine."

"Rest his soul."

"Through unity."

"Yes!"

"Through strength won by that unity.

"Exactly!"

"Through the central direction of that strength."

"Precisely!"

"But above all, through the certainty that our cause is just, that to save civilization firm action is required."

"Long live the Empire!"

Captain Kellison's glass of water tipped precariously. The table rocked underneath it, jostled by the officer as he stood. The room was filled with the sound of applause directed at the Chancellor's speech. Kellison couldn't possiby agree more; it was as if it was being drawn word for word from his own mind.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Master A'na Eldhil would be proud of me.

Lilaena blinked, refocusing on the minature holoscreen that was projected on the spectacles she was wearing. She had not thought of her old master in a long time. Too long, perhaps.

She suddenly craved the security of the rough woolen robe Master A'na had always worn, fingering the edges of her tunic like a small child might. But, she would be proud. Everything in her training was leading her towards this.

Would Master A'na really care? The second thought, on the heels of the first, made the Jedi pause. A'na Eldhil had devoted her life to the destruction of the Empire. She had raised Lilaena to be the instrument of its demise. Standing here, outside of the stadium, cooling her heels beside an ambulance... it was how Laprovik had wanted to do it.

What if he is playing you? He will get all the glory and you will get nothing! Lilaena narrowed her eyes as she continued to listen to the holofeed, trying to drown out the sound of her own thoughts.

[Lamar Starworth]

Not much had blossomed on the outskirts of the event. Only a few stragglers who had been demanded to leave before a blaster hole accompanied them home. It was the ritual, the norm, and Lamar hated it.

All the display of testosterone was too much for him, and despite his once attraction to threats, had was tired. The life as a Stormtrooper was becoming less lively, especially with the fall of the Emperor. During Palpatine's reign he had left a strong hold on many departments of the Empire, and the stormtrooper was one of the few that responded only to his call. Instead, in the days after Endor there was only a wage of foolishness at the head.

At times Lamar even forgot who was leading the campaign against the Rebellion, despite the survival of the Empire. There was not a strong personality, or speech to be heard by the Imperial citizen to claim to trust and dependence that was with the Emperor. In the young soldier's mind, the Empire had become weak, and he a long with it.

"Do not tell the superiors. I'm leaving the post. Kijic, intercept my comms. You'll take to response, okay?"

And so he was casted off with a single salute, and slowly strolled off around the stadium alone. Hopefully an unfriendly face could pop up to demand his attention, but for the present he would be alone. People just sickened him.

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

Zabrak were not common amongst the Imperial ranks, but the Imperial Intelligence was different. The agency carried a flush of irregular characters, all peculiar, but intelligent. If one hauled the talent and standard traits for an agent then they were taken in.

Khaowan was just another product of such clear cut concepts. A relevant addition to the Internal Affairs of the Empire, he was either overlooked or feared. People never grasped his presence without an Imperial rank aligned to their name. Instead they simply saw him as another Zabrak pressed up against a seat, watching and observing with the rest.

And he was certain to blend in. Why stand out? Throwing his hands up, he screamed with the rest of the crowd as his cool, collective eyes took in the moment.

Citizens certainly enjoyed the presence of the Empire for such a flock of Rebels terrorizing the galaxy. Khaowan laughed at the thought, but kept it in as he continued to follow the norm of the numerous other faces amidst the audience.