CG-10 Centaur Java II, Besh Gorgon System


“How big is that thing?”


Corise spared a quick glance at the younger man. Nearly twenty-two and fresh out of the Kashan Defence Academy, the brown-haired aide reminded him already of the man's grandfather, Hiram Tier. The younger Lucerne wondered what Hiram would have thought of his son's career path. But he knew, like many other Kashan nobles, including himself, that he was probably at least nudged in this direction like his father had before him. Lucerne himself had been partially guided into military service. Such was the nature of the Triumvirate composed of the Lucerne, Thorn, and Tier Houses.


“Large enough to hold 300,000 souls and then some,” muttered the Admiral nonchalantly.


Cory Tier turned and smiled back to at Lucerne


“Sorry, you probably thought it was pretty unimpressive. Or have you just seen it before?”


Lucerne shrugged, “It has been...a long time. Right after I left the Academy actually.”


Cory frowned, “What were you doing here? You weren't part of the fleet during that time, were you?”


“Not Kashan's,” mused the Rear-Admiral, “it was before I even had the Seraph. But those stories are for a different time, perhaps. The Wheel isn't going to be like Kashan, Cory.”


“I know that. It's almost the opposite in terms of culture...and expense. Believe me Admiral, I get that.”


“I'm not sure if you fully do, not the full extent. Look, keep your eyes about you until you get to the Confederation consulate onboard. I don't want you to make the same mistake I did when I first visited the station.”


“What did you do?”


“It's not what I did. It's what I didn't do. I got so lost in all the glamour I didn't notice a pick-pocket snatch my chrono right off my wrist.”

Cory blinked, “No way.”


“I wasn't a very big fan of the Wheel after that.”


“But you're coming back. Why's that? It's not just to escort me to my new job, I know you could never get away with just that with all of your other duties.”


Admiral Lucerne frowned, “Sometimes there's business you can only really do at the Wheel, and no-where else.”
 

The Wheel, Besh Gorgon System


Picking off a bit of lint from his suitcoat, Lucerne walked around the halls of the massive station, his blue eyes sweeping the area around him for any potential threats. Despite knowing that he was continually surrounded by a roving phalanx of CSIS agents, including a pair of Jensaarai among them, he felt more alert then had in a long time. It's too easy to feel invincible and relaxed behind the powerful shields and heavy armor of a star defender...and then suddenly going to nothing more than a blaster-resistant vest. He finally found himself at one of the station's more upscale restaurants. While not the notorious diamond level of the station, Lucerne still felt impressed that a space-going station such as the Wheel was able to keep such an apparent classy place as Luxum's with the notoriously seedy personnel who visited the station. I suppose those who live the high life can afford to go here as their earnings permit. As he crossed the threshhold into the restaurant, his security retinue fell away. If Luxum's isn't safe, then we have real problems. And more likely, the contact. A silver waiter droid standing behind a well-varnished kuati wood podium stared at him blankly. Lighting around his mouth briefly flashed.


“Your reservation number, sir?”


“Fifty-four.”


“Right this way sir. The other guest is already here.”


The droid led him past several privacy curtains and barriers into the dining hall of the restaurant. Fresco ceiling tiles combined with marble pillars and some sort of air scenters made him almost guess if he was actually in space, or groundside. The droid almost immediately led him into a curtained booth, containing an daper silver-and-black mottled bothan. Corise arched an eyebrow. I've never seen a bothan's coloring like that, but perhaps that's the ruse. This sort of garishness wouldn't be out of place here, and a quick shower to wipe out all that die, and he'd be unrecognizable from his previous appearance. Lucerne took a seat opposite of the alien.


“You're not Mr. Tureske,” noted Lucerne, scrolling through a datapad menu.


“No,” admitted the bothan, “but I suppose you were expecting another human.”


“I was.”


“Does it change things?”


“Only if the information and its means has changed,” muttered Lucerne, “results are what matters to me. Though I'm surprised Lucresk would require me to come in person for this and not show up.”


“He didn't require it,” replied the bothan, taking a sip of his drink, “I did.”


“And he did just because you wanted to? What's your relationship to Mr. Tureske?”


“Let's just say that we're partners, of a sort. A bit unequal, but close enough for our conversations.”


“Fine, so your partners. Why am I here?”


“Because I wanted to confirm to who I was really giving the info to. It's valuable information in itself.”


Corise shrugged, “The Confederation isn't picky about the means, the how, or even who it's obtained from. Only that it's accurate. You doubtlessly have seen that we've already transferred the appropiate pre-payment to your account here on the Wheel. Now it's your turn.”


The bothan slid over a datapad to Lucerne.


“It's all here. You're welcome to check it out and discuss it with me while we dine.”


Corise nodded, “Very well.”
 

“It looks legit, but I'm not inclined to simply take your word on it.”


Corise eyed the flashy bothan.


“Everyone always needs proof these days...”


“You're a new associate...and the money isn't exactly little, especially since you get know who we are.”


“Which does provide a discount on the pricing,” suggested the bothan, lowering his fork, “but this is a mutual arrangement, a benefit to us both. Once we have a solid relationship going, I think we will both gain much from our association.”


“I want a show of good faith,” decided Lucerne, neatly slicing a slab of his encrusted steak, “since you already have yours.”


“Very well. Hangar bay Aurek 31 on the 22nd level,” mused the bothan, “there is a light freighter there named Pleasure to Fly. One where we got the info from. There should be crates still in its cargo hold for you to inspect. I should warn you though hate The crew is still there, restrained in the rearmost cargo hold. Consider it yours as our gift of goodwill. I personally suggest you stay here and chat with me a bit longer and send some people there to confirm it for you.”


Nodding, the younger Lucerne pulled out a comlink, informing several of the agents of his detail to check out the supposed smuggling ship. The two finished dessert before the Rear-Admiral finally received word that the smuggling ship was indeed there, along with the crates of counterfeit goods. Corise ordered the ship flown out to the Revanche, the battleship waiting just outside of the system. His blue eyes swept over the flashily-dressed bothan.


“I think we will do business some time in the future.”


“I look forward to it,” replied the bothan, taking a sip of a fine sparkling white riesling.


“I regret that I have to leave right now. Do enjoy your dinner though.”
***
Revanche-class Star Defender Revanche, just outside of the Gorgon Besh System


Corise leaned back on the couch in his cabin, skimming the contents of the preliminary reports that the field office of CSIS agents onboard the Revanche had compiled so far in their investigation of the Pleasure to Fly and its crew. Fyre walked around a foyer carrying a pair of cheap plasticene tumblers. Lucerne wrinkled his nose.


“Is that what I think it is?” scoffed the admiral.


“Oh, come now. You'll always liked it back in the old days, before we were in the service.”


“It was a different service.”


“But it was the same service...well, our service was. Admit it Admiral, being back in the Kashan culture has changed you.”


“I never really fancified myself a Corellian...”


“Nor an Alderaanian or a Kuati,” smiled the other Kashan man, setting the tumbler on the admiral's coffee table, “but that's what Kashan is right? A weird amalgram of those two stifling worlds...”


“Alderaan-”


“...is a dead world,” finished Fyre.


“True,” admitted Corise, setting the datapad down and reaching for the glass, “but it was a pretty decent world before that.”


“Or so your dad says.”


“Decent enough that it shouldn't be seeing their goods made after that world's death,” noted the young Lucerne, “but Euceron...I can't see Euceron being the actual location of the counterfeiting.”


“Not while we were there decades ago,” noted Fyre, picking up the datapad, “whose in charge there now anyways?”


“General Sen.”


“He got promoted?”


“Apparently,” mused Lucerne, “which should make for some interesting talks about old times.”


“But how? How did he ever get past our incident there?”


Corise shrugged, “Well, it was decades ago. I suppose it's time to find out, before I get more messages about the counterfeiting.”


“You're not telling me something. What?”


“What do you mean what?”


Captain Fyre glanced at a picture on the datapad of the fake Alderaanian brandy, “We're really going to devote an entire battleship to find a couple of alcohol counterfeiters...”


“It's not just alcohol. You name it, they've faked it. Fyre, they're faking bacta and slapping Zaltin's bacta label on it...”


“Oh...that'd do it. Zaltin's behind this then?”


Corise nodded and took a sip of the liquid. Zaltin had come along with Stellar Enterprises bringing the Confederate capitol world to the way it was today. While still not close to Thyferra in terms of bacta production, the reinstated Zaltin Corporation had managed to turn out a modest surplus of bacta to sell on the galactic market, where it was highly valued, simply because there were few other worlds out there producing bacta, especially not under Imperial control. Wincing, the confederate admiral set the plasticene vessel down.


“It's as terrible as I remember it.”


“Well,” smirked Fyre, “at least it's what you were expecting...”
 

Bridge, Revanche-class Star Defender Revanche, in orbit via Euceron


“Quaint little world,” murmured Fyre, his eyes glazing over the world's southern pole.


Turning toward's the man's voice, Corise gazed through the bridge's viewport at Euceron.  His eye immediately fell upon the occasional strips of grassy plains merged into estuarial wetlands.  But that little land that kissed the water paled in comparison to the planet's vast oceans.  Across the world, tiny chains of small islands randomly sprouted up acne on an adolescent. A decade ago, he remembered that many of them had served as bases for small-time smugglers and small mom-and-pop transportation services. But now he was not so sure.  Not since the Ruling Power had been toppled, due in part to his own actions. The younger Lucerne closed his eyes, conjuring up the peculiar scent of the world's seas mixed with that of the plant life of the wetlands. But his mind presented him with only a vague recollection of that memory, intermixed with those of a dozen other worlds he visited in his past days as a CEC crewman all those years ago.  His other memories of Euceron were more grim, more seedy.  Things I will never tell my children, if I ever get around to that...


“We're being hailed,” announced the comm's officer, “the world's General-Governor is requesting an audience with you sir.”


Rear-Admiral Lucerne dutifully nodded and waved his hand towards his command chair. The comm's officer bobbed his head up and down and turned back to his console. I suppose our presence here couldn't have gone unnoticed by Sen...I suppose we gave traffic control a heart-attack with our sudden presence here. Straightening out his black duty tunic, Corise settled into his chair. He lightly tapped a button on the console. His sapphire blue eyes quickly dilated as the holo-projector whirled up to present the upper half of an middle-aged gentleman beginning to enter the twilight of his years. General-Governor Sen's caf-colored hair now had light streaks of cream around them. While his face seemed more taut, his cheekbones more hollow, Corise saw that his eyes still gazed upon him warmly like the world's afternoon sky.  He offered a brief smile to the other man.


“General-Governor Sen, it is good to see you again.”


The older man smiled, “Last I saw you, you weren't an Admiral.”


“Last I saw you, you weren't a General-Governor.  Colonel, wasn't it?”


He nodded, “Lantillies put me in the spot to fix the damage we wrought. I don't know if that was a punishment or a reward. But my work has been constant, and the world is almost entirely recovered now. But where have you been? You disappear for what...has it been about five years since I heard your name reappearing, leading some unknown world's defense force, and now this?”


“Something like that,” admitted Lucerne, sparing a quick glance to the side.


“What'd you do?”


Corise hesitated, “Stuff. Perhaps I can fill you in person once our official business is finished...”


Sen sagely nodded, “I was afraid you were going to say that.”


“Oh?  How is that sir?”


“Lucerne, one doesn't bring a battleship to talk to an old acquintance,” replied the gentleman, weakly smiling, “but you're being rather polite now...let me guess, Lantillies sent you here to reclaim us?”


“I think that abandoned all claim, or even pretense, of that during the civil wars. They've left you on your own, and I think they accept Euceron's independence. When was the last time they tried to give you a marching order anyways?”


“Years ago. So tell me then...what brings you here? Or should I say what trouble? It's what warships bring and what warships chase...”


We aren't endangering him in some way, are we? Sure, the Reavers might have shown up, but there's enough small craft traffic around here they would have shown up regardless if they haven't already done so...


“Counterfeiting,” stated the confederate officer plainly.


“You enforce counterfeiting with battleships now? That's not the Lucerne I knew...”


“Who said it was going to be with the battleship itself? It's what the ship carries, General-Governor. Besides, I'd assume you want the criminals removed from your world as much as I want to bring them in for justice...”


The administrator hesitated, “It's not that simple. Corise, you've always known that Euceron has attracted some unreputable attention from time to time. There's too many islands and coves for people of that type to hide to effectively patrol and permanently stamp out, and the space lanes are far to convenient...”


“I know it's not easy,” admitted the Rear-Admiral, “but we've got a source, and a location for the key hub of a counterfeiting ring on your world. They've faking a lot of goods. A lot of Confederation-made goods, including Zaltin Corp bacta...”


Sens sighed, “Corporate influence is it...”


“Corporate influence has been Euceron's lifeblood...”


“As it has been for much of us, whitherwards we are on the Perlemian.”


“So we can shut down this operation together, for both of benefit, just like the good old times then,” suggested the Admiral, leaning forward.


“I can't really argue with a man in a battleship,” murmured the man, “not that I doubt your ethics behind this. But you're going to have to give me time to muster up my people. You want to give the info you've got.”


“Transmitting it now. With your permission, I'd like to send down a team of mine to scout out the island chain where they're based, and to keep a close eye on them.”


Sen nodded, his eyes glancing downwards, “Very well. I will start reviewing your data and your attached battle plan. Goodbye Admiral.”


“Goodbye General-Governor.”


The holo-link faded into a brief haze of static light before vanishing. Shaking his head, Corise let out a muted sighed. Fyre popped his head around his shoulders.


“Hurts to see how a man changes,” noted the explorer's son, “so what's the real plan?”
 

The next day...


CG-10 Centaur Java II, Euceron


“It's as beautiful as I remember it,” murmured Lucerne, leaning up against the back of the co-pilot's chair.


General-Governor Sen let a small smile wrinkle his face at the remark. The Rear-Admiral turned his frosty blue eyes to look through the cockpit's partially iced windows. As far as he could see, a warm blue expanse spread out below him. From their height, Corise thought the ocean below seemed placid, even peaceful. But he knew the constantly shifting of the blue hues below told him the seas were anything but that. Their boxy craft began to wiggle and rock under the force of the seasonal tradewinds. Sparing at a glance at his guest, Lucerne grasped the co-pilot seat's back tighter. Sen gripped and clung unto a strap of the crash netting set directly the pilots' chairs. But Euceron's administrator ignored Lucerne's gaze, instead staring straight forward. Corise turned his head to follow the man's view. As they neared the surface of the world, Corise could now make out a rapidly growing speck of green among the blue seas. As they grew closer to it, he could see a circle of blue spread out in the middle of it. It's an atoll. The kashan man turned his eyes back to his old friend.


“My people tell me that both of our people have the whole thing under lock down,” replied the Rear-Admiral, “including a set of submerged caverns that lead from the inner part of the atoll to the oceans around it. You know, it's rather ingenuous to use an atoll as simply a landing pad for an underwater facility. No-one thinks there's anything there, because there's no obvious place to hide anything significant. I have to give them credit for such a well thought out hideout scheme. It's something I can almost see us doing in the past.”


“Well, it wasn't hid well enough, apparently.”


“It was,” rebuffed Lucerne, flashing a quick smile, “I doubt we'd ever had seen it if they hadn't been sold out.”


“Always the weakest point.”


“Always,” agreed the Rear-Admiral, eying the man closely, “the Ruling Power found that out the hard way too. We seem to have done advantage about that then, and now once again, old friend.”


“I wouldn't say it's the same. Suppressing an entire race isn't the same as a couple of hired sellouts.”


“You're taking this rather personally,” noted Corise.


“Excuse me, Rear-Admiral?”


Shaking his head, the Admiral waved the man to go back to the passenger hold. Frowning, the General-Governor did so. A quartet of security droids, a pair of Droidekas and Magnaguards, awaited them. Corise's right hand slid down to the blaster pistol holstered to his side, but he kept his gaze on the General-Governor. Sen abruptly spun about to face the man. The man's face contorted through a kaleidoscope of emotions.


“Why reveal your hand now?” questioned the General-Governor, “this is not as subtle as I was expecting from you...”


“Nor I from you,” countered Lucerne, drawing his weapon, “you used to be a different man. What happened to the Lantilian soldier I knew interested in stripping away the precepts the New Order and Ruling Power imposed on the Eucerons? The one interested in restoring a Republic...”


“He got broke,” snorted the man, collapsing into a seat, “in more ways than one. Making things fixed part of that, not just for me, but for the Eucerons and the rest of this world. When you can't beat a problem, you use it to your advantage...it's sound strategy.”


“Is it? You just brought down the wrath of a galactic power on you. If we hadn't known better, we could have brought it down on the entire infrastructure here...”


“We wouldn't have if one of my guys didn't mess up.”


“Not that he'll ever get to know that point. You had him killed.”


The General-Governor nodded, “I never intended to hurt anyone with what we did. I never authorized actually faking medicine, it was only the relabelling of real, working products. Everything should have been able to do the job of whatever the buyer was expecting...he killed people with that fakery, and so his life was forfeit. You going to do the same with me now?”


“It is not that tempting, even if you tried to play us by trying to get your base evacuated...”


“You lied about the timing of the raid.”


“As did you with your involvement with them. We may have been able to work something out if you were honest about it,” noted Lucerne, “but you're not the same person I left here years ago.”


“Neither are you.”


“I'm not going to sit here all day and sling insults at you, General-Governor,” replied Corise with a glare, “we're going to the right the wrongs, and you're going to help us.”


“Or what, you're going to shoot me? Going to torture me? Come on Corise, take off that uniform and show me that you have the heart of a Sith.”


“No,” chided the Confederate, “I thought of something far worse for a person of your stature.”
 

Eusebus, Euceron


“Look Captain, I can't simply do that. It's not like we've been planning for this eventuality.”


Fyre rotated on his heels to face Colonel Frykias. Letting out an exsparted sigh, the confederate slowly shook his head. A light tropical breeze floated through the open windows of the brightly colored plastoid building. Upon seeing it, Fyre had dubbed the Government House to be a “Techni-color fashion disaster”. How the native Eucerons found their plastoid buildings to be tasteful was beyond his understanding. Yet he found it wasn't the native Eucerons giving him the problems, but rather the human-dominated Euceron defense force, formerly known as the Combined Lantillian First Division. It's too bad I can't get some actual Lantillians here to beat some sense into the ones who now call this place home.


“The General-Governor is in violiation of your own laws. We've both seen the evidence. Your own subordinates are now talking about it,” mused kashan officer, “it is only a matter of time before this comes public, and then everyone will be coming to you for answers. Figure it out.”


“What do you want me to do? Sen's word is law here,” sighed Frykias, “I can't put him under arrest. He could just nullify it or simply strike the law from the books. I know you know him, but not as well as I do. He knows the ins and outs of everything the government has here. He knows of this. And you can't keep him in on indefinite confinement. Do you realize how Imperialist you will look to the galaxy at large? I don't want him in my custody.”


“But at the same time, you're saying he can't be in ours.”


“Yes.”


“So what, we're just suppose to let him go free? You want me to release a criminal who's had people killed, and cheated people out of who knows how many credits to simply walk out free and keep on running this place? You're right, we're not the Empire, but we can't simply allow legal matters to frustrate basic ethics.”


Frykias frowned, “This isn't black and white. He's done a lot of good for this place. When the Ruling Power toppled, partly because of what your Rear-Admiral did exposing their links to the criminals here, he had to try and come in and fix everything your man messed up.”


“Doesn't sound like it's been too permanent of a fix if your world has been relying on crime all along...”


“I didn't know,” defended Frykias, “He said the income was coming from some investments he had partially arranged by your Rear-Admiral.”


“Sure, by taking over the businesses that the Rear-Admiral had exposed to the public. Your General-Governor just buried them all over again. Nothing's really changed.”


“My people's lives have. The Eucerons have free speech now-”


“So what? You think they're simply going to stand there and take it? It's time for change. Reach out to the Eucerons and form a new government with them. The Maker knows given how they celebrated last time that you won't be able to pull the same trick on them twice. I was reviewing the old news clips. Did you see how happy they were to have the criminals vanquished and put on trial? Hell, they might even put you on it for neglicience, assuming they actually believe you weren't a part of this...”


“I wasn't-” protested the army officer.


“They you won't have any problems convincing them when the Euceron delegation walks throught he doors here.”


The man's eyes widened, “You don't mean the investors you were talking about?”


“Of course I do,” replied Fyre flatly, “they should be invested in their own governments. They seem to have thrived well enough without having to resort to corruption. You're going to have to work with them, because I've already given them the Confederation brief about what the General-Governor was up to this entire time. They're expecting it.”


Frykias rolled his eyes, “All right, so somehow we manage to cobble up a new interim government. Then what?”


“That's your part,” muttered Fyre, “though the Rear-Admiral was kind enough to refer some of diplomatic personell onboard the Revanche to come down to help you out with that part. Look on the brightside, you won't have to worry about General-Governor Sen or his network. The Rear-Admiral has taken this rather personally. He's putting me in charge of dismantling everything in his organization.”


“And the General-Governor?”


“I don't. Rear-Admiral Lucerne took that rather personally, since he thought he fixed this world's problems years ago. As in he's doing something about that. I don't know what he has planned.”
 

Cerus Atoll, Euceron


“Goodbye, Sen,” stated Lucerne, stopping midstride upon the Java II's ramp, “at least you'll be lucky enough to enjoy most of the weather. Though I suppose there are storms here every once and a while.”


Sen stared at him, mouth ajar. Corise tossed a earthy colored pack at the man. It landed with a plop right at the former General-Governor's feet, spraying sand onto the man's dress pants. He looked up at the confederate.


“You're just going to leave me here?”


“The benefit of having such widespread, remote islands that you claimed no-one was ever to find anything on. It hid your sin, it can hide you, permanently,” sneered the confederate officer, “I hope you enjoy the pack's contents. I'm good enough to give you all the basic necessities to survive here, and I've even given you a few of your own things back.”


He frowned, “What, exactly?”


“Some of fake Alderaanian brandy, your sidearm with enough power for one shot, and vial of what your people called geniune Zaltin bacta. But don't worry, we'll ever be watching you from the skies above. If you ever need any real help, we'll be there for you.”


“You really intend to keep me here forever. Marooned.”


Corise nodded, “Fitting enough, don't you think. Besides, you can enjoy the weather and yet manage to avoid the public humiliation and trial at the same time.”


“Look, Corise...”


The Rear-Admiral drew blaster and squeezed the trigger of the heavy blaster several times. A pair of bright blue stun blasts knocked the aging man to the ground. He pressed his lips tightly together. I'm done reasoning with you, General-Governor. I gave you a way out of this, and yet you refused. Corise strode aboard the ramp of his ship and tapped a button on his comlink. The ramp rose to converge with the rest of the ship's hull. A slight pop announced that the ship's environment was now completely cut off from the tropical paradise. He walked into the empty cockpit and slid into the pilot's chair. Seconds later, the Java II rose from the atoll and broke through the clouds above to rendezvous with the Revanche in high orbit above. He tapped several buttons on the console, deleting all traces of him or his ship ever visiting the Cerus Atoll. Now I just have to check up on the spy satellite's feed every once and a while. Maybe I should even get a second one, just in case...
 

Epilogue...


Rear-Admiral's Quarters, Revanche-class Star Defender Revanche, Hyperspace, outskirts of the Eucer Sector


“Today a fisherman discovered former General-Governor Sen's personal shuttle under the waves of the Northern Eusebus bay, roughly fifty kilometers away from the capitol itself. Investigators have discovered the ship was set on autopilot before its crash, which is suspected to have occurred during Thursday's heavy lightning storm. No bodies were discovered in the wreck. This marks the seventh day since the governor disappeared after investigators discovered he had been heavily involved in smuggling and counterfeiting operations that evokes memories of the Ruling Power's fall from power. Colonel Frykias, the General-Governor's aide-de-camp, announced that the power-sharing agreement has been formed between the new Euceron Council and the military will not be effected by the interim government's accepted application to the Contegorian Confederation. Frykias has stated that the move is not purely stated to ward of Confederation aggression. While Frykias has loudly trumpheted the membership's treaty's inclusion of a measure preventing any Euceron citizens from being sued or otherwise going to court from the scandal, critics are saying the treaty move is purely political. While most critics have dismissed the conspiracy theory stating that Frykias used the Confederation to remove Sen from power, they state that Euceron's membership could potentially drive off some foreign traders. Supporters of the measure say that the treaty will easily usher in an era of contement for the world because the treaty would easily offset any of those losses this by steady business being brought in by the Conf-”


Corise tapped a button on the remote, shutting off the holo-projector.


“No mention of the General-Governor again,” noted Fyre, shoving an appetizer into his mouth.


“There hasn't been much of a search,” mused Lucerne, “everyone seems to think he packed his bags and left the system before we could catch him.”


“I wonder who start such a rumor,” said the Captain, sparing a knowing glance at Corise.


“They're welcome to search around the General-Governor's ship. It's on the opposite side of the world...”


“It's almost like you planned it.”


“Very funny. But in all seriousness Fyre, this knowledge doesn't leave your lips, ever. I almost regret stationing one of those medical response droids from Phaseera for him.”


“Almost. You're not some vindicative killer Corise, I know that.”


Corise gazed into the other man's eyes, “Sometimes I'm not so sure. ”