"Furthermore."
Before Mon Mothma and Bail Organa had a chance to gather their thoughts and respond, Dorn added with a smile:
"I wasn't making a suggestion—I was issuing an order."
At these words, the atmosphere in the hall froze. Mon Mothma's eyes darkened for a moment, and the confusion and hesitation in her heart seemed to vanish instantly. Her expression hardened and her tone turned steely as she asked in a low, resolute voice:
"What if we refuse to comply?"
Her voice echoed through the hall, carrying a note of defiance and resolve.
Yet this question caused the entire assembly of Rebel Alliance leaders—Mon Mothma, Bail Organa, and the others—to furrow their brows. Their eyes were filled with worry as they feared that Mon Mothma's stance might further aggravate an already precarious situation. They knew all too well that the Rebel Alliance was in an absolutely inferior position at this moment; any move to provoke Dorn could trigger a devastating assault, and they were loath to see all their forces utterly "accounted for" on this day.
Bail Organa subtly shifted his gaze over to Mon Mothma's face, silently urging her to remain calm. The other senior officers also lowered their heads, unwilling to meet Dorn's piercing gaze, afraid that any action might spark an explosive reaction.
Dorn remained where he stood, his expression calm and unruffled, as if he had anticipated Mon Mothma's response all along. Then he set aside his earlier "superficial" smile—seemingly acknowledging her firmness—and spoke slowly in a deep, forceful tone:
"If you choose to refuse, then the Empire's Fist will have no choice but to employ proportionately harsh measures to secure your submission."
Although his words were deliberately ambiguous, every leader in the room understood perfectly well that if the Rebel Alliance did not comply, what Dorn meant by "harsh measures" would be to let force do the talking.
Just when everyone thought the situation would deteriorate irreversibly, Dorn's tone shifted unexpectedly. There was a hint of warmth in his voice as if trying to soothe the rebels' nerves:
"However, the Human Empire is not a ruthless hegemon—we are quite amicable with our own. Besides, the attitude you've shown, and the courage of the entire Rebel Alliance to fight against the Galactic Empire even unto death, is something we deeply respect."
His words resonated through the hall with a rare sincerity and respect. Dorn's gaze swept over every person present before he continued:
"Otherwise, we wouldn't have come here in such grand style with our fleet. Instead, we could have resolved all this by sending just a few ships."
These words broke the oppressive tension in the hall like a burst of fresh water. Mon Mothma and Bail Organa, along with the others, felt a mix of surprise and complexity. Although Dorn's tone carried a threat, it also conveyed a measure of respect and acknowledgment.
Dorn didn't allow Mon Mothma, Bail Organa, or the others much time to react. After finishing his remarks, he turned and walked away, his back to the assembly, and said in a final, firm tone:
"Time is short. Please issue your orders immediately so we can quickly exchange positions with the Empire's Fist."
This was Dorn's final ultimatum. If Mon Mothma was wise, she would say no more and ask no further questions. And sure enough, events unfolded just as Dorn had predicted.
With the sound of resounding footsteps and the sight of that towering figure receding into the distance, Mon Mothma sighed softly, her expression a mixture of resignation and reluctant compromise. The founding commander of the Rebel Alliance, as if forced to acknowledge reality, turned to the stunned communications officer beside her and ordered:
"Notify all units to obey their commands."
The communications officer paused for a moment, then quickly snapped to attention and replied:
"Yes, Commander."
The officer's voice trembled slightly, clearly still recovering from the shock of the moment. He then swiftly operated the communication equipment to relay Mon Mothma's order to every member of the Rebel Alliance.
For the vast majority of rebel soldiers, this command was a relief—a chance to finally let down their tensed nerves. At long last, they wouldn't have to confront those towering Astartes-like warriors. The heavily armored soldiers, armed with lethal weapons, simply standing there was enough to instill overwhelming dread and terror. Many soldiers lowered their weapons and exhaled deeply, as if shedding an unbearable burden.
Yet not everyone felt relief. Many rebel soldiers were filled with disappointment and confusion. They stood in various corners of the base, their eyes reflecting a tangled mix of emotions. They did not know what agreement the high command had reached with the Human Empire, but they understood that, under the coercion of a seemingly equally "hegemonic" Human Empire, the Rebel Alliance had ultimately chosen to submit and forgo resistance.
This stark reality struck them hard. The Rebel Alliance had once been a group willing to fight for freedom and justice, prepared to sacrifice everything to overthrow the tyranny of the Galactic Empire. But now, under the forceful intervention of the Human Empire, those ideals seemed out of reach. The spirit to continue the struggle had been utterly eroded, replaced by a sense of aimlessness and helplessness.
Many soldiers hung their heads, their eyes clouded with confusion and loss, as if they had lost their way.
Dorn was, of course, fully aware that the morale of the Rebel Alliance was deeply unsettled. The soldiers' dismay and the high command's resignation did not escape his notice. As the genetic prototype of the Empire's Fist and a son of the Human Emperor, his primary loyalty would always lie with the Human Empire. While the courage and ideals of the Rebel Alliance were indeed admirable, they must not let emotion cloud rationality, nor impede the grand project of unifying humanity under our banner.
Thus, Dorn chose to forcibly bind the Rebel Alliance to the Empire's war machine. This decision was not born of cruelty but of long-term strategic necessity. Firstly, cooperation with the Rebel Alliance would expedite the process of unifying the galaxy and secure access to the political capital and resources behind them. For instance, one of the founders of the Rebel Alliance, Bail Organa, serves as the governor of the Ordan system—a core region in the galaxy renowned for its political, economic, and cultural influence. The populace of Ordan, thriving economically and yearning for peace, quickly became the most formidable supporter of the Rebel Alliance.
Based on intelligence provided by our Information Department, Magnus, Dorn, and their allies reached an almost instantaneous consensus: to subdue Bail Organa using relatively "mild" means.
Secondly, this approach minimizes casualties—especially human lives. War exacts a heavy toll, and it is my responsibility to secure the greatest victory with the least sacrifice. If Magnus, Dorn, and their allies were to forge a so-called "alliance" with the Rebel Alliance, there was every possibility that in the later stages of the unification war, ideological and interest conflicts would force the two sides apart. At that point, the unified fleet would have no choice but to direct its firepower against those very soldiers who once fought alongside us. Such an outcome is the worst-case scenario I can imagine.
Soon after, the soldiers, vehicles, equipment, and various supplies of the Rebel Alliance were rapidly transferred to the Eternal Crusader—which had now re-entered the atmosphere—via a gravity well. And for the rebel soldiers standing on the ground, the scene before them was nothing short of overwhelming.
They looked up and saw an eight-kilometer-long Imperial-class battleship hovering above the base like a floating metropolis, its colossal bulk completely blotting out the sky above the rebel base.
Its very presence not only underscored the insignificance of the rebel forces but also revealed, in a small way, why their high command had chosen to submit rather than resist.
The rebel soldiers had heard tales of the Galactic Empire's ultimate weapon—the Death Star—but had never seen it with their own eyes, nor had they come across any pictorial records of it. However, they had been chased by Star Destroyers before and knew all too well that the might of such colossal war machines far exceeded any of the rebel vessels. Now, to witness an Imperial-class battleship looming above their base was a reality they could not ignore.
"This… this is the power of the Human Empire?" a young rebel soldier murmured, his voice trembling with awe and reverence as he struggled to process the reality before him.
"No wonder the high command chose to compromise," another replied softly, his tone laced with resignation and sorrow. His eyes scanned his comrades, noting the heavy, conflicted expressions on every face.
After witnessing the fleet led by the Eternal Crusader descending into the atmosphere, those who had initially considered sabotage or escape soon suppressed their impulses. Rather than risk rebellion, they opted to follow the Human Empire, hoping perhaps to secure a glimmer of hope for the Rebel Alliance.
As for Dorn's command to "exchange positions," its meaning was unmistakable: Yaven IV was now to be entirely controlled by the Empire's Fist. This decision was not only to ensure the security of Yaven IV but also to assert complete control over this strategically vital star system.
Once all personnel and supplies of the Rebel Alliance had been transferred, Dorn would leave behind a combat platoon-sized force to garrison Yaven IV. Although a "platoon" is modest by Astartes standards, a single Astartes platoon typically includes 200 troops from the Empire's Fist, 20,000 support soldiers, and various logistics and technical support personnel. Such a force would be more than sufficient to handle any emergency and ensure that Yaven IV remained secure.
Additionally, Dorn decided to leave behind two Paris-class frigates, one Kingfisher-class cruiser, and one Phoenix-class support vessel. These four ships would not only provide formidable fire support for ground forces but could also quickly seal off low orbit around Yaven IV if any hostile forces attempted an incursion. With the mobility of the Paris-class, the long-range strike capability of the Kingfisher-class, and the supply and repair functions of the Phoenix-class, these ships, working in tandem with ground forces, would create an impenetrable defense. Even if the Galactic Empire were to send its main fleet, I am confident that our garrison will be strong enough to drag them down into the abyss until the Empire's main forces arrive.
Furthermore, Dorn specifically ordered twenty Spartans to assist in the defense of Yaven IV. Although these Spartans maintained an impassive, focused demeanor upon receiving their orders, Dorn knew all too well what they truly felt. Having once adventured with his brother Volgan during their youth, he understood the yearning and passion burning in these young warriors. They longed to join the fleet and fight on active battlefields rather than remain stationed on what appeared to be a quiet planet.
To compensate for this, Dorn appended a special mission to their orders: he instructed these twenty Spartans, along with the relevant technical personnel, to use available data during their downtime to explore the ancient Jedi ruins on Yaven IV. Hidden deep within the rainforest, these ruins were shrouded in mystery and uncertainty—like sleeping treasuries waiting to be awakened. The words "exploration" and "ruins" together were enough to ignite the fire within the Spartans' hearts. For these young warriors, exploring the unknown was not merely an assignment but an adventure brimming with challenges and opportunities.
At that moment, Dorn had already returned to the bridge of the Eternal Crusader with Arroi. Standing beside the central control panel, Arroi's slender fingers flew over the controls, and as if completing a routine calibration, she looked up to report to Dorn:
"Dorn."
"Coordinates for Tatooine have been locked. Shall we deploy the fleet directly?"
Dorn did not immediately respond. Tatooine—a barren desert planet that held little apparent strategic value to either the Rebel Alliance or the Galactic Empire—was known for its endless expanses of yellow sand, harsh climate, and scarce resources. Yet, regardless of its desolation, Tatooine remained under the jurisdiction of the Galactic Empire, and the Empire would not simply cede such a planet to the elusive Rebel Alliance.
Consequently, Tatooine was garrisoned with sufficient troops and fleet elements to counter any threat from the rebels. The Galactic Empire, after all, never lacked manpower or resources—they could deploy robust defenses on any planet. But for the Human Empire, Tatooine was a critical "stronghold" that needed to be seized swiftly. Beyond its strategic location, Tatooine held another key significance: it was the ancestral home of the Skywalker family. Today, Darth Vader—and formerly Anakin Skywalker—originated from this desolate planet. Now, with Vader's son leading a modest life as a farmer on Tatooine, the Human Empire planned not only to launch a surprise attack and occupy Tatooine but also to bring Vader's son "into the fold."
This young man, whose blood coursed with potent Force lineage, might very well become a pivotal element in the unification war.
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Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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