"Good evening, Captain. I thought you had retired to your cabin for the night."

Captain Ramus of the freighter Morningspire, stepped onto the bridge, stiffling a yawn, "I did, but I couldn't sleep."

His subordinate and second, Prator, nodded and handed Ramus a steaming cup of stimcaf, which the captain took thankfully.

"So... whats going on?" Ramus asked as he sipped from the cup.

"Nothing much," Prator said, "Pretty quiet, actually. We were just about to revert to realspace," He checked a readout, "in about three minutes."

Ramus nodded and placed the cup of stimcaf down on a table next to the helm, "Alright."

The freighter was forty hours out of Onyx, delivering foodstuffs and munitions produced by the Coalition which was sold to developing planets, in this case: Sheeva, a poor world in the Core.

"How long until we get to Sheeva?" Ramus asked.

"As soon as we drop out of hyperspace and recalculate our coordinates, about three hours." Prator replied.

Ramus yawned again and nodded.

Prator pressed a few buttons, "Realspace reversion in ten seconds..."

Ramus closed his eyes and yawned again as his second counted down the seconds until reversion.

"Reversion." He heard, followed by a "What the...!"

Ramus opened his eyes and stared at the veiwscreen. More specificly at the vessel which occupied the entire view.

A Bird of Prey.



***



The figure standing in front of the viewing window on the bridge of the attacking Bird of Prey stared coldly at the small freighter that was now sitting helplessly in the grasp of a tractor beam.

The figure was that of a man. One man.

This man was one that was known to trillions of people. His face has been plastered all over the HoloNet hundreds of times, by friends and foes alike. This man was one of the most wanted men in the Galaxy, and at one time, one of the most powerful.

He was a man who had won, and lost. Been victorius and victoryless.

This man had single-handedly created one of the largest and expansive empires in recent galactic history.

"We have the cargo, sir."


Xander Griff, former President of the Outer-Rom Sovereignty, did not turn. He did not respond in any way to his subordinate's report.

He just sighed.

Like he had been doing alot for quite some time now.


"Shall we set course for Borleias, sir?" Came a question.


"Yes."

The Past
Ord Mirit

The wind swirled around Tir Esias's head, sending his straight locks into a state of disorder. A dusting of snow covered the ground, and his boots crunched lightly as he walked forward. It also forced him to pound more heavily than usual with his cane on the ground ahead of him. The distorted sounds and muffling effect of the snowflakes were disorienting, and reminded Tir why he usually didn't do hands on work. However, the information he was seeking very, very important. It was sensitive information detailing a possible fault line in the Galactic Coalition, a point of tension that could be used to crack the fragile coalition apart. The source insisted upon a face-to-face meeting. Sometimes, there were things you couldn't entrust to anyone else.

And so here he was: A blind man, waltzing around on an unfamiliar world, the snow making it difficult for him to get a sense of the world around him. He might have been unsettled if not for two important facts:

He wasn't really alone, and he wasn't truly blind.

Well, maybe in the literal sense he was, but with the power of the Force he could easily make up for that. Tir Esias opened his mind, allowing the Force to flow through him. The sudden boost of power more than made up for the dullness the cold had set upon his senses. Fifteen minutes later, he had reached the prearranged meeting point, a small abandoned building. Dilapidated, it was remote, and therefore suited the contact's need for secrecy. Tir Esias dropped his cane, the prearranged signal to alert the contact to his arrival.

Moments later, a small door on the side of the building popped open, and a hand bid Tir Esias forward. Tir never saw the gesture, but he heard the rusted hinges of the old door as it opened, and took it as his invitation to enter.

The meeting was very short. The contact was surprisingly relaxed, probably because he never gave out his name, and he knew that Tir Esias had no chance of visually identifying him. There was virtually no conversation that didn't relate to the business at hand, and it took only a few minutes for Tir Esias to trade the datapad (containing the account number and access information for a Sestrian Bank Account) for a similar datapad that purportedly contained the information. Tir Esias didn't bother to check it. The money was a pittance in the relative scheme of things (though it would easily make the contact independently wealthy) and if he was trying to stiff the Union, well Tir knew that he would soon regret that decision. A firm handshake ended the meeting.

Tir Esias walked out of the building, out into the freezing night air. His cane outstretched, he began the long ponderous march back to his shuttle. Not fifty feet from the house, he felt a sudden flicker in the force...

And then felt himself knocked off his feet. He heard the distinct sound of a blaster bolt striking a solid object. Tir Esias started to get up, then realized his cane had been lodged from his grip, and he had no idea where it was. Reaching out with the force, he envisioned his cane flying to his hands, a technique he had been practicing since his "lessons" with Vodo Baas. He heard a rustle, then was rewarded a moment later with the reassuringly hard feeling of the cane's handle in his hand.

"Don't worry, Mr. Esias, I've taken care of the situation."

Qive's voice was the same as it always was, and if he had not taken part in the incident, Tir would have never know that the Gen'Dai had just saved his life and presumably killed the assailant.

"I appreciate that Qive. Did you eliminate him?"

"Yes sir."

"Please bring the body along. I am interested in finding out who wants to kill me."



Deep Space
SSD Midas

Sometimes the truth really is stranger than fiction.

For example, the idea that an assassin working for the super-secret intelligence agency of a government that had ceased to exist for a considerable amount of time would try to kill someone walking out of an abandoned building seemed like the beginning of the plot of an action holo-vid.

Mention that the person who was getting shot at was one of the most powerful members of another super-secret organization, who happened to be on the receiving end of an information deal that came from a member of the government which absorbed the remains of the intelligence agency's government after it collapsed during an intergalactic war, and you'd probably have half of the directors this side of Bonadon salivating.

Throw in the twist that the information not only mentioned the intelligence agency, but also named important figures at one time connected with both the agency's government and the government of the person who was giving out the info, and you have the makings of a high-budget flick destined to leave audiences with a spinning head and some lucky studio with a boatload of cash.

Too bad it had to happen in real life.

The assassin, to Tir Esias's surprise had turned out to be a member of the Black Hand (identified by a small tattoo of their distinctive insignia on his lower back and confirmed by a Union database of known assassins and their employers). The Union already knew that the secretive organization had not collapsed with the ORS at the end of the most recent galactic war, but had never been able to pin down any of their bases of operations. Little had been heard from the Black Hand for some time, though the information Tir Esias had just retrieved made a few mentions of them in reference, and other sources had speculated that the shadowy group was based in the Outer Rim, in territory recently claimed by the Galactic Coalition. Tir Esias believed that further analysis of the information he had just received would corroborate such claims, but for now he had more pressing concerns.

Like why did a Black Hand operative want him dead? Did the Black Hand know of the existence of the Union? Who was leading the Black Hand, and from where?

There were numerous answers to each of those questions, but finding the right ones would indubitably prove difficult.

The answer to the first question probably had to do with the information transfer that Tir Esias had been involved with. Though he had only skimmed the voluminous information stored in the datapad, he had already noticed several allusions to the Black Hand. It was possible that the group, who prized secrecy above all else, was trying to prevent others from knowing of their continued existence. After all, what better cover was there for an intelligence operation than the complete and total collapse of the government for which you operated? However, that was assuming that the Black Hand did not know of the Union's existence.

Which brought him to question two. The Black Hand had been one of the galaxies most feared and respected Black Ops outfit. Even Imperial Intelligence had a wary respect for them. It wasn't impossible then, to entertain the notion that they knew of the Union. If they did know, then Tir Esias could expand his list of answers to the first questions exponentially. Somehow, though, he couldn't believe that the Union's existence was known. The veil of secrecy surrounding it was immensely thick.

He decided that it would be best to consider it a possibility, but not assume it to be true. Work up contingencies for both scenarios.

Question three however, was by far the easiest, at least part of it was. Though he wasn't positive, Tir was willing to bet a hefty sum that he knew who was leading the Black Hand. The location of their base would be more difficult to uncover, but the resources the Union had at its disposal would speed things up considerably.

Using his com-link, he sent a message to one of the mercenaries who job it was to guard Tir's quarters on the Midas. He needed to talk to Omega Thrax. And he needed the all the Union’s files on one man.

Xander Griff.

Borleias Orbit




"How did we do this time, Jorai?"


Former Black Hand Director Jorai Kovel looked up from the datapad he was punching numbers into and gave Griff a grimace, "Less than expected. The Morningspire wasn't carrying their full manifest like they were supposed to. Our guy on Onyx couldn't give us an explanation."

Griff sighed, "He is becoming more and more unreliable."

Kovel nodded, "Shall we get rid of him then?"

Griff shook his head, "No. All of our spies are getting more and more unreliable. He is no different."

Kovel nodded again, "I agree. Logan is gradually tightening the noose. His Praetorian Guard units have destroyed three of our bases about eight lightyears from Onyx."

Griff sighed again, "Yeah."

"We should have these supplies offloaded to the Borleias base in about three hours. We'll be setting down momentarily."

Griff gave Kovel a goodnatured slap on the shoulder, "Good job, old friend."


***


Borleias could be summed up best with just one word: perfect.

Perfect for the Sovereighty Remnant forces under Griff's command, that is. It was distanced far enough away from Imperial and Coalition planets to not warrent any attention from the two governments. It was was also nowhere near any major hyperlanes that lanced from the Core to the Outer-rim Territories.

After Griff's last encounter with Logan, a cease-fire during which Logan agreed to give Griff's Bird-of-Prey a complete refit in exchange for top Black Hand instructors for his Praetorian Guard, he had decided that they needed a new permanent base to operate from. Somewhere quiet to lay low, repair and regroup after one of their supply raids on Coalition shipping, or an attack on GC bases.

Griff now stood on the bridge of the Bird of Prey, Avatar of Tomed, as they came in for a soft landing within their main base, which was hidden well in a dense range of mountains.

As he watched the base get bigger and bigger in the veiwscreen he wondered how it had come to this. He had once been a man of great power, wealth, and responsiblity, and now he was reduced to a rogue warlord (or in Coaliton terms, a 'terrorist'), striking out in meaningless raids that did nothing but further degrade his tarnished name and reputation.

After the last war, the war between the Coalition, Outer-Rim Sovereignty, Empire, and Black Dragon Empire, Griff had taken the few soldiers and ships that remained fiercely loyal to him and had fled. The Black Dragons were landing on Bakura as the President fled like a coward.

A coward. That was what the Galaxy thought him as.

That is what he thought himself as.

[/i]What a sad thought indeed[/i], He thought to himself.


After he fled the Sovereignty as it burned to ashes (later to be absorbed by the Coalition), he wandered for a while in the Unknown Regions, fighting occasionally with the many dangers lurking out there and losing ships and men in the process. Originally, he had twenty Birds of Prey and a million ground troops. But by the time they finally settled on an unnamed and unknown planet, he had five Birds and twenty thousand ground troops.

He then fought with Logan, who was now running the show for the Coaliton in the Onyx region, losing another ship and even more men. Logan seemed to make it his personal mission to hunt Griff down and 'bring him to justice'. So far, he had failed. But just barely.

So now here he stood, a truly broken man, as the Bird set down on the surface of Borleias.

Griff wondered if he would ever attain even a small measure of the glory he once had known.

But never really had deserved.

Omega Thrax walked calmly and quietly into the chambers of Tir Esias and looked upon the blind man, his single eye scanning his fellow servant. Both he and Esias directly served the Union which placed them in significant positions of power and influence within the lurking organization both working differently due to their own methods, Esias lately relying on the brutish Gen'dai, Qive to do his dirty work. Thrax viewed it as a rather admirable method, Esias was a man he respected, one of the few besides the Chairman. Most of those outside of the Union... on its Committee, were contemptible, scum that were to be given orders and expected to follow them or suffer. For now, Thrax took as seat calmly in front of Esias and spoke in his calm, cool tone.

"You wished to see me?"

The Union's files on Xander Griff were rather extensive, but Tir Esias had been able to shift through the rather quickly. A large portion of the file contained information of which Esias already knew. Most of that dealt with Griff's time as President of the ill-fated Outer Rim Sovereignty, and his manipulations- manipulations that had led to the most recent galaxy-wide war. That information, though important, was not particularly difficult to obtain. It was likely that similar pages of data existed in Griff's file in the other major intelligence agencies in the galaxy and numerous independent intelligence brokers. No, it had not been that info that concerned Tir Esias.

Omega Thrax arrived at Tir's personal quarters without much fanfare. Tir Esias had felt the mans very distinct presence in the Force, and thus known he was coming, despite the fact that Thrax had entered very silently; his breathing controlled and very soft- low enough that even Tir's highly attuned ears did not hear it. Esias and Thrax shared a mutual respect. They served the Union itself, and were not affiliated with any of its numerous branches. Only the Chairman had authority over them, and he allowed them ample leeway to do as they pleased. They were different, no doubt, but similar in numerous ways.

"You wished to see me?"

Thrax was very direct. He spoke with a steady tone, which helped lend to him the nickname the "Voice of the Union."

"That is correct Mister Thrax. I believe your talents can be put to use in my latest endeavor."

The masked man stayed silent, listening.

"On my recent excursion to Ord Mirit, I had a run in with an Agent of the Black Hand... the former intelligence arm of the Outer Rim Sovereignty. He tried to kill me..... but Qive handled that.

I am unsure what his motives were. It is possible, though unlikely that the Black Hand knows of the existence of the Union."

Though Thrax did not respond to this utterance, Tir knew what he must be thinking. The Union's veil of secrecy was its greatest weapon. Nothing was more important... nor would be fought for harder.

"Though the ORS was defeated and its remnants eventually absorbed by the Galactic Coalition, we have information confirming that its former President, Xander Griff, was never apprehended and is still alive. He has with him a small band of ORS loyalists, most of which belonged to the Black Hand.

Going through our file on Griff, I came across a document sliced from an ORS computer on Bakura right before the planet was captured by the Black Dragon Empire. I believe it is the last remaining copy of the document, as the planets security forces wiped their mainframes only hours after it was obtained, to prevent the information from being obtained by the Dragons.

That document was an order, signed by Griff, detailing the movement of a construction battalion attached to an ORS planet (though the name is encoded CN-1344) to the planet Borleias, a remote world at the edge of the Colonies."

Tir Esias tapped a button on his desk, and a holo-map of the galaxy was projected, then focused in on Borleias.

"The planet, though located in the Colonies, lies on no major hyperlanes and has not indigenous sentient population. Its proximity to both the Unknown Regions and several major Imperial holdings make it an excellent strategic position, but it has been abandoned for decades."

The holo-projection faded.

"I believe that Griff is hiding there. I want you to find out. Take a force to Borleias. Find Griff. The chance that he knows of our existence makes him a threat. We cannot tolerate such a threat."

Thrax nodded at the last words. Tir Esias considered the matter effectively dealt with.

"It shall be done," Thrax finally said in his calm tones again, finally breaking his silence.

Thrax stood and departed the room without another word, heading down the corriodors of the Union's massive mobile headquarters towards his own chambers. When Thrax entered, his chambers were revealed to be more a medical lab than a office or bedroom. He moved to his comm station and immediately dispatched several triple encryped messages off towards the Forge, requisitioning the needed resources for his operation. Xander Griff needed to be dealt with, either through extermination or absorbtion, either way he needed to be found. The security of the Union itself could very well be at stake here; this Black Hand remnant needed to be found and quickly.

Thrax turned to his desk/work table and sat down, releasing the locking clasps on his mask and removed it...

Several Days Later

Omega Thrax walked calmly along the bridge of the Kaloth cruiser he'd designated as his command ship for this operation. Union merc staff moved about the bridge in their black fatigues and berets, designating their status within the actual organization. Several necrotroopers stood guard at the bridge door, ignored by everyone as they went about their business and trying to avoid the gaze of the Voice.

"What is our status, Captain?" Thrax asked calmly and looked over at his chief flag officer.

"One hour, sir. After that, we'll be running in all weapons and shields charged. Do you really think we'll encounter heavy resistance?"

"This is the Black Hand, Captain, I know it. They haven't survived thsi long by being weak and foolish. Our advantage is surprise, they don't know we're coming."

The Captain nodded and headed off to make his round and give orders to the rest of the Kaloths moving along with this one. Time was passing casually but the crew was tense, ready for combat within the coming hour as they prepared their reversion to hyperspace. They didin't know what they'd encounter but they'd find out very soon.

One Hour Later

With a flash of light, eight fully operation and battle ready Kaloth crusiers reverted from hyperspace and began their approach to Borleias, scanners sweeping the area wearily, weapons ready and shields up as they searched out any ORS vessels that might be lurking in wait. They then opened a com channel, aiming all broadcasts towards the planet and a mountain range which was giving off energy readings. Omega Thrax spoke calmly and smoothly.

"Attention ORS forces, we have come for you and Xander Griff. Stand down or suffer the consequences."

Griff did not know weather to be amused or nervous. He stood watching the approaching blips on the holomap as the unidentified ships moved farther insystem from their reversion point. They were now approaching one of Borleias many moons, and would probably pass by the shadow side of the moon in a few minutes.

Kovel stood next to him with a customary unreadable expression on his face, "Fools."

Griff ageed, "They are idiots to come insystem and broadcast their presence like this. Especially since they reverted beyond the moon." He said.

Kovel checked his datapad for a moment and then turned to Griff, "The Assaulter, Oblivion, and Silencer are in position and waiting for the order to attack."

"Good. And the mine ambush around the moon?"

"Ready."

The The Assaulter, Oblivion, and Silencer that Kovel had mentioned were Birds Of Prey that had followed Griff as the former President had fled the dying Sovereignty. In their prime, the ships had been top-notch fighting machines, but now, after years of life on the fringe without the proper drydock facilites had left the ships battered, but still battle-worthy.

The unidentified ships continued moving forward, into the shadow of the moon, where the ex-Sovereignty forces had laid a few dozen homing mines swiped from a Sovereignty armory on Bakura. The moon had small, sparse rings, in which the mines had been laid. So any ships passing near the rings would not be able to distinguish between the mines and the rings.

And then it would be too late.

"Shall I respond?" Kovel asked.

"No." Was Griff's reply, "The mines will speak for us."


As he said this, the Kaloth-class Battle Cruisers entered the dark side of the moon, a few thousand kilometers from the rings...

..and were immidiately picked up by the mines, which activated and moved toward the approaching fleet.

Griff watched as multiple flashes lit up space around the ringed moon.

The lights of explosions flashed as the unexpected mine field was triggered by the forward picket of three Kaloths. Thrax watched rather uncaringly as two of the ships completely exploded and the third went dead in space. As far as he was concerned, they had done their job, clearing out a rather cleverly set trap.

"Move the ships ahead, Mr. Griff's had his clever little trick. If any of his ships decide to rear their heads, vaporize them. I'm not playing games with this man," Thrax said calmly as he continued to look out towards the world.

"Yes sir" replied the captain and turned to issue orders.

The five fully functional Kaloths moved around the moon to face Borleias. Thrax looked across the gap of space, his single visible eye turning into a suspicious slit as his five battle cruisers continued slowly, watching and waiting for anything that the ORS forces might throw at them.

"Captain," Thrax said rather calmly.

"Sir?"

"Load warheads, I suspect we're going to enter another trap very shortly."

The Captain paled and darted to his station, issuing orders to load concussion missiles, prepping the Union ships with their own little surprise when and if any ORS ships decided to show their faces.

"Captain." The tiny hologram of Xander Griff, from the base on Borleias said sternly, "Are you in position?"

Captain Marko of the ex-Sovereignty Bird of Prey smiled thinly. A bald man of considerable proportions, he had nevertheless earned his position as commander of Griff's rogue battle fleet. Originally from Bakura, he had served in the Bakuran Military, which had been absorbed by the Sovereignty. He had joined Griff when the Sovereignty fell, believeing that one day he might return triumphantly to the streets of his home planet.

"Yes sir, the Oblivion and Silencer are preparing their attack. We are holding steady here"

The hologram of the former Sovereignty President nodded, "Good work. Out."

The blue glowing form winked out and Marko turned to his second, "Prepare the Scorpions. If Griff gives the order, we will need them."


***


"This is Xander Griff. Halt where you are and do not approach Borleias. Failure to follow this rather simple instruction will result in you being attacked."


Griff shut the comm down and looked back to the several blips that were still approaching the planet. He had been very disturbed about the way the mysterious Kaloths had shrugged off the destruction of two of their vessels like it didn't even happen.

They just kept on coming.

Kovel shook his head, "No change."

Griff nodded, "Prepare to give the order."

Omega Thrax watched as the world grew closer, the Kaloths continued their approach unmercifully. The crews were a little twitchy after the mine field incident but dared not do or say anything. They all knew they were expendable, that was how the Union worked; service with loyalty and discard into anonymity. No one betrayed the Union because it could always reach you, no matter where you were, no matter where you went, the Union would find you and make your last days of life a living hell. It was a true regime of fear, something Grand Moff Tarkin of the old days would have been proud of if the group that used it wasn't a vast and mysterious organization lurking in the shadows of the galaxy, plotting away.

"Incoming tranmission!"

Thrax turned and listened to what was spoke.

"This is Xander Griff. Halt where you are and do not approach Borleias. Failure to follow this rather simple instruction will result in you being attacked."

"Darjig?" Thrax asked turning to the neimodian vocal specialist they'd brought along.

The twitchy neimoidian turned and ran the transmission through his computer databases and analyzing equipment, including any vocal recordings of Griff's voice before the collapse of the ORS. He then turned and nodded back towards Omega Thrax.

"It's really him, sir. Voice patterns match completely and its not synthesized," Darjig said.

"Excellent."

Thrax turned back to the display and a rather sinister thought entered his mind. How much did Xander Griff care about his own men? How much did he value their lives? How many of them would he let die before the Union got to him? Perhaps it was time to test the metal of former President, Xander Griff.

"Open comm channel"

An comm officer nodded, cueing Thrax to speak, his transmission being beamed towards Borleias again.

"Thank you for confirming your presence to us, Mister Griff, it is most appreciated. However I will not stop coming, I will move forward and fight any defensive measure you have. I will kill every last Sovereignty man that gets in my way to reaching you, Mister Griff. Perhaps you noticed my reaction to your little mine trap? The lives of my men mean nothing to me as long as I fulfill my mission. They are expendable, but the question is, are yours? Are you willing to sacrifice them all to stop me? Or will you stand down and come up here to speak with me? The choice is yours, Mister Griff."