The TIE wing was hanging on the wall of the Lifebloom's hanger bay, easily seen by the amassed crowd. “Local contacts have confirmed this to be the mark of the DawnStar Pirates. They apparently employ a mixture of outdated Imperial tech and your standard pirate trash fighters and light starships. Understand this: these people have been active for years. There has been no substantial effort in recent times to secure this sector or neighboring space from the threat posed by such groups as this.

“We know the location of this organization's base of operations. They are based on Gall, the terrestiral moon of the nearby gas giant Zhar. They have taken up residence in what remains of an Imperial Enclave, and seem to have drawn a portion of their equipment from the abandoned Imperial Regional Naval Supply Area. If there are two things you can say about the Imps, it's that they didn't know how to die quietly or clean up after themselves.”

“The long and short of it is that they have hostages,” A middle-aged man whose only form of identification was the Cooperative-inspired badge of the Cooperative Workers Party on his chest spoke up, apparently tired of the commander's briefing.

“Umm, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Kerrick Arkanus of the Cooperative Workers' Party. He has had some experience with situations such as this and has agreed to assist in the operation.”

“Hey, general,” One of the Cooperative Defense Force personnel shouted, waving nonchalantly, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Good to see you, sir,” Another offered.

Kerrick growled menacingly. “I am a private citizen of the Cooperative of Systems. Just because you people don't know how to leave me the hell alone doesn't change that.” The bright-eyed youth dropped his hand, his smile vanishing immediately. Kerrick Arkanus had changed.

“Yes, well; as Mr. Arkanus was saying―”

“They have hostages,” Kerrick cut him off again. “After a fashion, anyway. The moon's total population is roughly fifty million, but the settlement nearest the Enclave has been overrun by the DawnStars and their friends. Information is sketchy, but we know that a number of local pirate groups have pooled their resources in order to reactivate a significant portion of the Enclave. They've been growing in strength for years, and the fact that the Imps didn't bother dismantling their military installation when they pulled out has only helped these pirates to further entrench themselves.

“The fact that our scouting team was hit by TIEs in deep space suggests they have at least a limited carrier-type capacity, meaning when we do hit, we'll have to be thorough; we can't allow these people to relocate. This is no longer about vengeance or securing the trade route. It's about eliminating a genuine threat to the safety of people who may never call themselves 'Coalition Citizens,' but deserve peace and safety nonetheless.”

“Umm, Mr. Arkanus . . .”

“Shut up, you,” Kerrick shot back, pointing threateningly at the commander. “Unless you've got someone to replace me, then I'm going to say whatever I want. And if you do . . . please: get rid of me. I want to go home anyway.

“The good news is we've got a plan,” He continued, turning back to the various soldiers present. “The Ryn seem to think that they can handle the situation on the ground, and their record so far tends to make me believe them. You guys sit tight, run your drills, and wait. When we're ready on the ground, we'll let you know."





Ketaris

“No. This is not going to happen.”

“I have just as much right as anyone else. The difference is: I have the authority to make it happen.”

The two beings stared each other down, one trying not to burst into a fit of rage, the other simply determined.

“What's going on here?” Erek Joron asked, running forward as he saw the two squared off, apparently on the verge of a genuine fist fight.

“This fool has decided that he's going on the Squib mission,” Captain Zive Brintt spat, refusing to turn away.

“That's out of the question,” Erek said matter-of-factly, shaking his head as if it would help.

“Neither of you can stop me,” Athan said, breaking from his stand-off and walking between the two, set on his goal.

The last semblances of calm left the Rattataki captian, who spun in place and made to chase Athan down. “Don't bother,” Erek said, his light grasp falling on the captain's shoulder to reinforce the statement, which he withdrew immediately when the further-enraged alien turned his attention to Erek. “Neither of us can stop him,” Erek said, diverting his eyes from Zive's angry gaze.

“He's too important to the Ryn,” The captain said, his rage subsiding with the words. “We can't afford to risk him.”

It was an unexpected state to see the Rattataki in, and for a moment, Erek's curiosity made him forget that the alien despised him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Fortunately, whatever state Zive had found himself in also seemed to make him forget that he despised the human from Teth. “The Ryn hold the hopes of all of this galaxy's disregarded and fallen races,” He replied, apparently not even realizing what he had said.

The simple comment stunned Erek, and it was only the sound of the nearby Squib ship taking off that pulled both of them out of their near-comatose states. Their eyes darted to the vessel, both of them knowing full well that Athan was on board. The captain stormed off, leaving Erek to ponder what the Westerner had said.





Gall, the Enclave

Bard was sitting in his usual place, holding his cards close; trust is not something that is bred between pirates. They were playing the most important game of the month, the one that decided which crew would get the surplus shares of loot. One of the local smugglers had joined the game to try to win first purchase rights to the new stash of goods, and the pirate captains were determined to do what they always did.

They were going to strip this fool of everything he had. “Idiot's array,” Someone on the other side of the table called out, showing his hand to the rest of them. Bard had picked up on the man's skifter three rounds ago, as he was sure most of the other captains had, but none of them had called him on it because putting this Nobody of a smuggler farther in the hole was more important to any of them than winning the game.

“Boss, we've got a problem.”

Bard huffed in annoyance. “I'm busy.”

The Rodian shook its head, then―apparently realizing Bard couldn't see that―tapped him on the shoulder. “Remember those scout ships we took out a few days ago?”

“Yea. What of it?”

“They belonged to the Coalition.”

“Aren't they dead?”

The Rodian shook its head again, though Bard was watching this time. “Apparently not.”

“So, what's it to me?”

“They know it was us.”

“Well what are they going to do, blow up the whole city? Even they aren't that dumb. Calm down; it's the way of the Rim. They know not to go sticking their noses into things that don't concern them.”

The Rodian reluctantly walked off, not convinced his fun-loving captain was thinking clearly.

Kerrick eyed the being sceptically. “You're him?”

“I am.”

“I gotta admit; I'm not impressed.”

The pale-faced, thin human tilted his head ever-so-slightly. “That's the point.”

Kerrick set off, waiving the newcomer to follow. They made their way into a nearby shuttle, which Kerrick closed and double-checked to make sure had no other occupants. “Prove it.”

The man's chest contorted outward, as if it might split open. His skin began to change color, and as his sickly arms rippled with newly formed muscles, Kerrick looked into the Shi'ido's eyes, now a menacing yellow, and was only drawn away by the pair of lekku that suddenly stretched from the back of his head.

The powerful green-skinned Twi'lek stood precisely in the same place the pitiable human had momentarily occupied. “You really spent three months masquerading as an Iridonian?”

“It is what I do.”

Kerrick nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. “Why'd you come forward now?”

He barred his pointed teeth, then began talking as he shifted back to his human form. “I have nothing to fear from your Cooperative.”

That was apparently all that Kerrick was going to get out of him. “Alright then. You're on the team. From what little the Iridonians told me about you, you can handle yourself just fine.”

The operative punched himself in the stomach, withdrawing from his own innards a small blaster pistol. He simply held the weapon in the palm of his hands, satisfactorily drawing an uncomfortable nod from Kerrick. “Yeah, you'll do fine.”





It was a task force in that it was a force assembled for a task. At the head was the Longsword Frigate Awakening, and this would be its Rattataki captain's first significant command. Of course, the actual operation was still several days away, so he would spend his time running combat exercises against the Cooperative detachment. He just hoped they weren't wasting his time.

Captatin Brintt was reading over the scans of the Cooperative force one more time, making sure not to miss anything. A more self-assured captain would probably look at the Cooperative vessels and dismiss them out of hand, but Zive knew better. He had learned long ago that things are rarely what they appear, and the readouts were far from conclusive enough to write the Cooperative ships off as too old or under-equipped.

It looked like he was just going to have to move in and find out. “Take us in,” He ordered, the ship's mighty engines roaring to life immediately. He was joined in his charge by an array of Coalition light and medium warships, and though the Cooperative force was dotted here or there by a Defender gunship or other such craft, the majority of its formation was composed of “outdated” vessels that saw their heyday during the first Galactic Civil War.

This should get interesting.





Squab System

“We've been here already, Juri.”

“Not here, friend.”

The Squib needle ship was taking a path almost identical to the one Juri had flown in his shuttle only a few days ago. Athan could actually make out the distant speck that he knew was the massive Clone Wars-era warship. But that was not their destination. Not this time.

The massive structure wasn't a space station, not really. It looked more like the repressurized hulks of a couple dozen burnt-out freighter hulls, and that assessment included wishful thinking. The needle ship pulled up to it, interfacing with what may very well have been the only still-functioning hatch on the entire ugly mass. Stale air rushed into the Squib vessel as the door opened, but Athan was just glad to be greeted by something other than hard vacuum.

“Okay, what are we here for, Juri?”

“Those,” He pointed into the darkness, where two dozen or so glowing lights had just sprung to life. “And their less obvious friends.” From the black depth stumbled several battle droids, none of which had probably been activated since they had fallen silent at the end of the Clone Wars.

“Juri, why are you wasting my time with this?”

“Crew complement of a Squib needle ship is twenty,” Juri said simply. “Robots don't put off bio signs. Sneaky, sneaky.”

All of the life drained out of Athan's face. “You're gonna get me killed, Juri. You're seriously gonna get me killed.”

“Have a little faith in your Squibbish friend.” Juri smiled broadly, but it takes more than a smiling rat to reassure a Ryn.





Gall, the Enclave


The Rodian was back, and Bard toyed with the thought of drawing his blaster and vaping the ugly alien, but decided he was too valuable as a gun hand. “What?”

“I sent some of our boys to check out the sight of the hit we did on those Coalition ships.”

“Yeah, and?”

“They picked up energy signatures nearby.”

“Say something I care to hear, or I'm shooting you right now.”

The Rodian twitched a little, as if preparing for a duel, then spoke up again. “It was a training mission. Coalition ships.”

“Were our boys seen?”

“No.”

Bard barred his teeth at the Rodian. “Get out of my sight, before I really do burn you down. Keep your nose out of their business, and they'll do the same. Stop trying to stir up trouble.”

The Rodian once more walked away from his captain, still fearing the attack he knew was coming.

Gall

The man laughed. It was a harsh, condescending laugh. “You have no idea, do you?” The human was sitting in a plush chair, set behind a finely-crafted wooden desk. He was reclining gently, not bother to meet the other men's intense gaze; they weren't worth his attention. “The DawnStars are nothing new. They come and they go; every couple of years they have themselves an internal 'war,' and somebody else gets to be 'in charge' for a little while. They leave us alone; we leave them alone. We don't want any trouble, Mr. Coalition Man.”

President Horace of Gall was the only single man that could give Kerrick what he needed, but that wasn't going to happen. “We'll be in touch,” He said firmly, standing to his feet as he did so.

“I doubt it.”

Kerrick left the room without another thought, his two companions following after him.

“Done already, sir?” The secretary asked as they passed her desk.

“Nope. Just got something to take care of first,” Kerrick responded, walking by her without a glance. This is what the galaxy has come to. “Servants of the people,”who only serve the people with the guns.

They exited the building and were joined by three more individuals outside. They proceeded in silence, weaving the memorized route through the network of streets and alleys.

“We're being followed.”

Kerrick recognized the voice, nodding slightly. “Do your thing, monkey man.”

They rounded a corner and a barely-discernible rustle marked the Shi'ido's unknown movements.

The pattern of footfalls changed, but not like they should have. Kerrick didn't turn around; he didn't want to risk alerting their tail. “Come on, dumb-dumb.” Whatever the shapeshifter had done, it had been drastic enough to bring one of the group members to a stop. The pair of footsteps resumed, speeding up momentarily as “dumb-dumb” caught up.

Kerrick's comm beeped, and he came to a stop, waiving for everyone else to do the same. He turned around just in time to see a Gamorrean approaching, a hopefully-unconscious human thrown over his shoulder. They ducked into an especially dark corner, allowing the Shi'ido to shift back into his “standard” human form, and then continued on to the safehouse.

Fifteen minutes later the captive had a bacta patch over the nasty gash on his forehead, and Kerrick shocked the man to consciousness, refusing to use any more of his limited medical supplies on him.

Kerrick grabbed the bound man's face in his hands just as the man began to regain consciousness. He stared directly into the other human's eyes, moving his own face uncomfortably close. “You can talk to me, tell me what I want to know, or you can die. Those are your choices.”

The man gasped for breath, trying to shake his head. “The Coalition―”

“This is Gall. The Coalition doesn't exist here.”

The captive smiled, the expression losing some clarity due to Kerric's grip stretching his skin. “I don't believe you.”

Kerrick let go and stepped back. “Make him hurt.”





Coalition training exercise, deep space

The Western force had won, but the Cooperative had faired better than the Rattataki had expected. Their ships had proven to be just as capable as any other vessels of the types represented, and what their crews lacked in experience, they partly made up in coordination.

But when it was all said and done, they just hadn't seen enough action.

Warning alarms began to ring out, and Zive found himself running for the bridge, though he wasn't entirely sure how to get there. He had been on his way to speak with one of the Cooperative's captains, and had just arrived on-ship.

Finally finding the right turbolift, he stepped out of the tube and into a flurry of motion. “What do you mean he's not there?” The Varn captain bellowed, slamming his fists on the edge of the holoprojector he was talking to. Zive recognized the image of his own second in command, and an ironic smile crept across his face.

“Captain,” He called loudly to cut through the commotion. The Varn captain turned suddenly, exclaiming indistinctly when he recognized the Western captain. “What's going on here?”

“We're picking up a distress call nearby.”

“Jump,” Zive said firmly, walking into the field of view of the holoprojector. “We'll take care of this,” He said to the holoprojector, turning it off immediately and returning his attention to the Varn captain. “Let's do this.”

The Varn gave a nod that conveyed just how alien the motion was to his people, and then began shouting orders. “Signal Void Cutter and Rainstorm to follow. If we need more firepower than that, then we're in trouble.”

A moment later the three vessels were dropping from hyperspace, the Varn captain turning to Zive. The Rattataki simply nodded, pointing to the viewscreen. “This is your command, captain.”

“Status.”

“Convoy, six ships,” Sensors called out. “Under persistent fire from a small formation. Transponders identify them as the 'Red Legion.' They don't seem to be too shy about what they're doing here, sir. I'm picking up what looks like a light corvette in the distance; no biosigns. Probably the convoy's escort.”

“Tactical.”

“In-range in fifteen seconds,” The tactical officer reported.

“Comm, broadcast.”

“Good to go, sir.”

“This is Captain Ivik Orok of the Coalition Kaloth-class Battlecruiser Mournful Messenger. You have ten seconds to disengage and surrender, or you will be fired upon.”

“I've got one of the civilian captains on the comm, sir.”

“Anything important?”

“Just your standard cry for help, sir.”

“Drop them,” He ordered coolly.

“Weapons in range,” From tactical.

“Ash them.”

Zive smirked, making a mental note of the Varn's choice of words.

The initial burst of fire from the three vessels was more than enough to draw the pirates away from their would-be prey. The pirate force's chief vessel looked like it might have been a leftover from the original Rebel Alliance, a bulk cruiser which had apparently been refit for major combat roles.

It didn't matter though, Captain Orok wasn't about to let another innocent soul perish on his watch; Zive could see it in his alien features. Everything from the glint in his eye to the Varn's shifted posture said that these pirates weren't going to be running away from this fight.

The Corellian gunship Void Cutter was already well on its way to circumventing the pirate formation, and the the corvette Rainstorm had moved forward and peeled off to one side to further contain the enemy targets.

The vessels were pounding on the pirate ship from three vectors, and the single squadron of fighters carried by the Messenger was overlooking the pirate TIEs as they, too made for a run against the bulk cruiser.

Zive nodded to himself. This will be over soon.

The Rattataki had been right. With their shields soon stripped and no immediate escape vector open, the ship had surrendered without any more of a fight. The now-stranded TIEs accepted their collective fate and surrendered as well. Nothing's worse than death, not for a pirate anyway.

Captain Brintt gave the Varn a clap on the shoulder, noting the sloshing sound the amphibian's body suit made, then nodded approvingly. “Well done, captain. And for the record,” He added, leaning forward, “I think the phrase you were looking for is 'vape them.'”

The Varn captain let out a wheezing laugh, obviously as artificial as his previous nod, and turned to shake the Rattataki's hand. “Ahh, yes, I see. It seems I've seen one too few adventure holos to be properly acclimated to galactic society.”

Zive waited just a moment, then decided he'd remind the excited captain. "I think there's a particularly under appreciated freighter captain that you might want to talk to.”

“Eh? Oh, yes, yes! Comm, get that captain from the convoy back on the line.”

“They just jumped away, sir,” Sensors reported.

An unfamiliar grumbling sound issued from the Varn. “Unappreciative riffraff,” He mumbled, just loud enough for Zive to hear it. “Well, back to the task force, then. Our commander needs to be returned to his ship.” The edges of his mouth moved up in a hideous smile, and the captain gave another of his wobbly nods. “Helm, take us home.”





Gall, the Enclave

“You! Rodian! What's going on here?”

The Rodian turned to Bard, tilting his head as if to ask: “Who? Me?”

“Answer me!”

“We've lost contact with the Red Legion,” The Rodian said simply.

Bard slumped back into his chair. “Ugh . . . Probably just made a stop to pick up some ryll or something.”

“The Coalition got them.”

“Yeah? Well, they shouldn't have gone stirring up trouble with a Coalition training exercise going on then, huh?”

“They're coming for us boss.”

Bard shook his head. “I own this world. It's mine. They've got no business here, and they know it. Whatever 'Righteous Fury' they built up from the hit on their scouts, they took it out on the Reds. Now for serious: I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense out of you.”

The Rodian walked away yet again, his mind setting to work on how he would survive the coming fight. Of course, with someone like Bard in charge, the Coalition could just about walk in, plant their flag in the center of the Enclave, and call it a day. If only it were that simple. . .

Gall, safehouse

Kerrick was leaning over the unconscious human. “You sure he'll be alright?”

The team's medic nodded his head. “He's received no serious or permanent physical damage, and that stuff I gave him has completely erased the last twenty-four hours or so from his memory, so there's no risk of psychological damage."

“Other than the fact that he's a crazy pirate, of course.”

Kerrick waved at the other man to shut up. “Leave him. We've got a lot of work to do, and no time to do it.”

The six beings filed out of the small building, leaving the unconscious pirate to whatever forces fate saw fit to exert upon him.





Gall, the Enclave

"Have you noticed that there seem to be a lot of Ryn around lately?"

"No, I haven't, but then: who notices Ryn?"

"Well, you know they're working for the Coalition now, right? Some of our guys shot up some Coalition ships the other day, didn't they?"

Bard's features slackened as realization dawned on him. “Round 'em up. We can't take any chances.” Throwing down his sabacc hand, he rushed from the room. He was not going down today.




Hyperspace

This is it.

The task force reverted and the countdown timer switched over to the next event.

“Report,” Captain Brintt demanded.

“All ships present and accounted for.”

“Approach vector clear.”

“Local traffic within predicted volume parameters. Responding according to plan.”

Zive Brintt nodded. The task force had jumped in from over a dozen separate locations, forming a loose shell of Coalition vessels around the world. The plan was to force all traffic within that shell back to the planet, and then sort out the pirates from the civilians once the Enclave was taken down. However, for the moment, all the Rattataki captain had to do was worry that some other part of the plan had gone wrong.




“You! Ryn! Get over here!”

“Yeah, yeah, boss!” Athan shouted, diligently scrubbing the useless starship component. “Just a second; jus' let me finish up here!”

“Now!” The massive human barreled over, picking up a piece of pipe as he came. “You hear me, Ryn!?”

“Hey Juri,” Athan shouted over his shoulder, still wiping the broken object with the dirty rag.

“Yeah boss?” The Cheery Squib shouted from the other side of the dock, standing on top of his needle ship.

“Get us ready to go, willya?”

“Sure thing boss.”

The human paused for a second, glancing from the Ryn to the Squib. “What the . . .” He barreled onward, shaking the pipe menacingly as he approached.

A Ryn's tail is not an aesthetic appendage. It serves a variety of purposes. If the various seedy denizens of the galaxy would simply learn this fact, they might save themselves from a variety of painful experiences. Unfortunately, this particular human wasn't only ignorant, but also stupid. Blood spurt from the man's mouth as Athan's tail drove his jaw upward, the man involuntarily biting off a piece of his tongue.

From the filthy rags he wore, Athan brandished a pristine blaster rifle, firing on two of the human's angry and approaching friends as he ran for the Squib ship.

Ahh, to be alive again!

Gall, the Enclave

Three Squib needleships flew overhead, their tractor beams launching what looked almost like escape pods into the abandoned quarter of the Enclave. They crashed to the ground, rolling to a stop, and then dozens of Squibs and their mismatched droids poured out of each one, setting up defensive positions. One of the Squibs jumped behind an e-web a droid had set up, the little rodent just tall enough to look down the weapon's thick barrel.

The Enclave was alive with movement, like a bee hive after being kicked; but unlike bees, these poor fools didn't know what they were doing, and were too terrified to care. A handful of volleys from the Squibs was sufficient to drive the would-be defenders out of sight, scurrying into or behind nearby buildings. Of course, a handful of Squibs and their scavenged war droids weren't the only firepower being brought to bear on the Enclave . . .

The nearby city was in a state of upheaval. Hundreds of Ryn and Squibs had suddenly burst into action, killing, stunning, and otherwise incapacitating hundreds of the city's resident ne'er-do-wells. The local police (such as they were) seemed content to sit back and allow the conflict to resolve itself, but soon dozens of speeders carrying police and security forces from cities all across Gall arrived, lending their assistance to the Coalition effort.

At the head of the group of speeders, Kerrick Arkanus watched with grim satisfaction as the overwhelmed and unprepared criminal elements surrendered by the droves. With the threat of facing an occupied city removed and the perimeter of the Enclave already breached, the Coalition forces in orbit were free to force the Enclave's fall. These pirates had nowhere to run, and the descending Western and Cooperative shuttles were bringing more ready warriors to the battlefield.

All of the pieces had fallen into place; Gall was liberated.





“Attention, unidentified vessel: the Zhar System is under interdiction by order of the Galactic Coalition of Planets. Power down your engines and prepare to be boarded.”

Bard grumbled incoherently, flipping switches and reorienting to try to stay away from the approaching flight of starfighters. He had taken his shuttle because he didn't want to waste time rounding up his crew, but it appeared that he still hadn't gotten out fast enough.

“I'll show them,” He mumbled, thumbing on the shuttle's modified weapons systems. “Just try to stop me. Just try,” He continued, a mad grin crossing his face as the fighters approached on the sensor screen.

“This is your final warning. Shut down your engines and deactivate your weapons or we will destroy you.”

He chuckled, lining up the chin mounted turret and setting the concussion missile launchers to target and fire automatically. “Just a little closer . . . that's it. That's it.”

Blue filled the cockpit. The Rodian set down the blaster and started flipping switches. “Complying,” He said into the comm microphone, turning the transport away from the fighters as a further sign of submission. “You're not getting me killed today, Huttslime,” He added, kicking the stunned human in the leg. Live to hunt another day.






The President's door was knocked open and a squad of special tactics police filed into the office. “What's the meaning of this?”

A black-clad man wearing a modified Cooperative identification badge stepped into the room, reading from a datapad. “Gunther Horace, by order of the Nine Cities of Gall, you are under arrest for treason, crimes against life, willful collaboration with known criminal organizations . . . you know what? Let's just put it this way: there's a new sheriff in town, and he doesn't take bribes.”

“You―you can't do this to me! I've―”

“Don't make me stun you, sir.”

As the police dragged their former president out of the building, Kerrick Arkanus waved politely to the passing politician. He stopped at the bewildered secretary's desk, giving her a crooked smile. “Told 'ya I'd be back.”





The leaders of the Nine Cities of Gall had convened at the captured Enclave to discuss the fate of their world. Kerrick Arkanus had accompanied the small Coalition delegation, at the local leaders' request. He now stood before the leaders of the terrestrial moon, casting one last furtive glance at the Coalition delegation.

Aww, to hell with it.

“You want my opinion? Buy guns. Buy lots of guns. And you know the best part? There's so much military hardware floating around from the fall of . . . argh, I can't keep up with how many any galactic powers anymore. The point is: there's so much of this stuff floating around, that it's not all that hard to get ahold of. Now, you get yourselves some nice, big guns, you―”

“Mr. Arkanus!”

“Shut up, you!” He shouted, turning his head far enough to the side that he wasn't shouting directly at the local leaders, but not far enough to actually have to look at the Coalition man who had yelled at him. “You turn your world into a fortress and you hold out for the day that the next galactic power collapses.”

He began pacing a little, looking away from Gall's leaders. “Of course, there is another option. These guys over here want you to join the Coalition, probably to turn Gall into a stopover on their pretty little trade route they're trying to string together. Now if you want to do that―and mind you, I don't much care at this point . . . but if you want to do that, and sell your soul to the perpetuation of this galaxy's ruin, then I'd say: go for it.

“I, on the other hand, have a higher calling. You see this out here?” He turned to the narrow, vertical viewport in the wall, gesturing at the heart of the Enclave. “This is the legacy of our fallen nations; this is what they've left to the galaxy they once swore to protect. The power to kill. The power to manipulate. The power to turn petty thieves into warlords and tyrants. Do you think Gall is unique? Do you think your situation is special? No; governments just like the Coalition have risen before, and governments just like the Coalition have fallen, and from the ruins of their shattered bodies men like this Bard have scavenged the tools they needed to bring terror, pain, and death upon the trillions of innocent souls not fortunate enough to born into the 'peace' of the Core.

“Until they can prove to you that they're something different, don't give them a thing.” Kerrick turned to the Coalition delegation, made a gesture of wiping his hands of them, and then left.




Athan found Kerrick a few hours later. The man was sitting on a permacrete barrier of some kind, idly skipping stones across the dirt-covered ground. “They send you here to make me apologize or something, Mr. Ryn Ambassador, Sir?”

Athan smiled at the human, shaking his head. “The Cooperative has committed two dozen ships to the immediate formation of a long-term pirate-hunting task force.”

“Ooh, two dozen ships. We can stop twelve bad guys a week with that . . .”

Athan kept smiling. “The Ryn Nation has committed twenty percent of its total combat force to the same. With some prodding, we've gotten an indistinct commitment from the West, and the East has promised to match whatever they end up offering. I can't speak for the conscience of the Coalition, but I can say that you were right, and the Cooperative knows that. I'll see to it that you get whatever help they can possibly send you.”

“Me?”

Still smiling. “I heard you turned down the offer to resume your position within the Cooperative military. Honestly, I'd say it was a good call on your part. Now let's go change the galaxy, shall we?”

Kerrick shook his head wearily. “The Workers' Party―”

“The Workers' Party needs you,” Athan said, finally dropping the smile. “And this group needs the Workers' Party.” Athan waited for a moment, but Kerrick didn't seem to have anything to say. “Do you hear about Maridun?”

“What? Who?”

“Admiral Blakeley just took out a group a lot bigger and more organized than this one. The guys who had hit the Ugor homeworld. Anyway, the point is: you're right. This has become a legacy. The legacy of the Rim. But we can stop this. Maybe not everywhere, maybe not for long, but we can stop this. We can show the whole galaxy that we're different. Not the Coalition; not the Cooperative. Us: the people of the Coalition. Isn't that what the Workers' Party's really about? Isn't that really why you still choose to believe in the Overseer . . . in the Cooperative?

“We can put the galaxy back together, Kerrick. Not under the banner of the Coalition. Under the banner of freedom. Under the banner of justice. Remember that word? Remember when it actually meant something? Let's do this, you and I.”

Kerrick had become totally still, staring at a point on the ground. He shook his head in shame. “How long will any of it last?”

“As long as it can.”

There was another long moment of silence, and Kerrick finally spoke up. “Is Gall going to join the Coalition?”

Athan stood up, patting the human on the back. “Only if you lead the pirate hutners.”

He finally looked up, squinting against the glare of the sun. “They're not gonna make me give a speech or anything, are they?”