Fallen Clan 2

The minister shuffled towards the great hall. From down the long passageway muffled giggles of harlots, the clinking of goblets, and riotous, intoxicated laughter echoed.

            He finally approached the entrance and laboriously pushed open the thick, towering doors. He was instantly hit by the full volume of the festivities that rocked the hall. The meeting of the Elite Imperial Guard to discuss issues of galactic security had erupted into excessive indulgence in temporal pleasures.

            The warriors of the Guard sat around the long table. The discussion of security issues which was the pretense for this meeting seemed to have been abandoned altogether. Instead they devoured rare delicacies and fornicated with young women openly at the table. The inflated stomachs upon which sat one or more harlots barely suited supposed fighting men and their careless crass conversations could hardly be expected from a corps historically renowned for courageousness and stoic calm when confronted with danger.

            These were not the warriors of legend like their forefathers, thought the minister. No, they were naught but corrupted, bloated embarrassments of their proud heritage. Yes, they were still feared. The power they held was still great, but, it was often abused. Now they were more renowned for the violence they visited upon inferiors who displeased them rather than the vanquishing of any foe.

Indeed, it seemed the Empire had ruled the galaxy for so long that it was unfathomable to even think anyone would challenge it.

It was for these reasons that the minister timidly walked by the table lined with the raucous warriors who blatantly ignored him and cautiously approached the man at the head of the table, Commander Kulp.

“What is it, Minister Froph?” Kulp said sternly without looking at him.

“Sir… my sincerest apologies for the interruption,” stuttered Froph, “hostile forces have been detected encroaching on Imperial Stellar Systems.”

“So? Carry on with standard procedure. Have the patrols destroy them if they refuse to cooperate.”

“We… tried. They annihilated the patrols.”

“Well then send more.”

“The regional commander tried… he claimed to have unsuccessfully confronted them with four full brigades. That was the last transmission we received from his fleet.”

Kulp finally turned to the minister, “Four brigades?”

“Y—yes, Master,” Froph flinched expecting reprisal for reporting such bad news.

Kulp retained a stern face towards Froph as he struggled to decide what to say next.     

“One more thing master,” winced Froph, “the hostile ships they bear… a symbol.”

“What symbol Froph? Spit it out.”

“That of the Shaka-Zum,”

“No…”