"They are certainly bold." Kovel remarked blandly.

"Too bold." Griff said flatly.

"What are you going to do?" Kovel asked, glancing at the approaching blips got closer to the planet, boldy moving forward without fear.

One of the Black Hand's most effective weapons during their existance was fear. Normally, just knowing the Black Hand was nearby was enough to frighten anyone into submission.

Created by Marth Meer during the earliest days of the Sovereignty, the Black Hand served as the primary intelligence wing of the Sovereignty, and operated roughly along the same lines as Imperial Intelligence.

Motivated by fanatical loyalty to the Sovereignty and to it's President, the Black Hand was an enemy few wished to confront.

But this mysterious Kaloth commander had no such fear within him, it seemed.


Interesting, Griff thought.


"Xander?" Kovel asked.

"Ready my shuttle. Let us go out to meet our new friend."



***



A black Lambada-class shuttle rose from the atmosphere of Borleias. It had no escort, and only one lifesign:

Griff.

Omega Thrax watched as the shuttle exited the atmosphere and began its journey towards the Kaloths. It was immediately informed to fly to the central Kaloth, where as it did, its was promptly swept with scanners for explosives before being permitted to land. As the shuttle touched down and its landing ramp lowered, Omega Thrax stood there, waiting, necrotroopers lining either side of the ramp, creating a corridor that lead straight to the waiting masked man. The Union was wasting nothing on show this time, they had to make a point to the fallen statesman.

"Welcome aboard, Mister Griff," said Omega Thrax, his tone as unnervingly calm as ever.

"Welcome aboard, Mister Griff."

Griff looked the masked man up and down for a moment before glancing around the docking bay of the Kaloth. He noted it was small, but the Kaloth itself was actually rather small, and no more than three or four shuttles could fit into the protective confines at any one time. At the moment, the bay was empty aside from the unusual soldiers providing honor guard, and the mysterious masked man, who Griff recognized as the speaker in the previous communications.


Griff was unarmed and dressed in black trousers, a gray shirt, and a long brown greatcoat, which he used to keep the night temperatures of Borleias at bay.

"Add whom do I have the honor of speaking?"

"I am Omega Thrax, Mister Griff."

Omega Thrax stepped forwards rather unconcerned, now mere feet from the man he'd come all this way for. If he was capable of savoring the moment, he would have, but as things were, Omega Thrax savored nothing. Instead he got right down to business since the only real people in this bay with ears to listen and brains that actually understood were Thrax and Xander Griff, necrotroopers just didn't count.

"The reason I have come here, Mister Griff, searching for you and your little band of holdouts is to make you an offer. I represent something great, something that holds a great deal of influence throughout the galaxy. It is called the Union and we wish to extend membership to you. Join us and you'll recieve all the weapons, munitions, and ships we can afford to give you. All you must do in return? Obey, Mister Griff, obey the orders of the Union. Perhaps that sounds a little brash, but you will not have to answer to much as you will even be a member of the governing body, the Committee. Join us, join the Committee, join the Union. There is no real choice in the matter, only reward if you do and suffering if you do not. What do you say, Mister Griff?"

Thrax's single visible eye flashed questioningly as he waited for the answer.

Griff laughed in the masked man's face. It was a rude gesture but Griff hardly believed this emotionless being could actually have any notion of what proper manners were.

"You mean to tell me that all this," He waved around the hanger, indicating the Kaloth and the rest of Thrax's fleet, "Is the property of some shadowy... force?"

"Precisely." Was the cold reply.

Griff burst again into more laughter. If the necrotroopers had been capable of intelligent thought, they would have balked at a display. In his holos of when he was the President of the Outer-Rim Sovereignty, Xander Griff was completely and utterly stoic and emotionless. It was one of the reasons his people disliked him.

But here he was, in enemy territory, laughing his ass off.

Griff managed to calm himself and glanced at Thrax, "You'll have to excuse me, but a hell of alot of things just made sense."

Omega Thrax's visible eye turned into a slit, not out of anger but because what could be called his brain knew a reaction was called for. He held Griff with that chilling gaze and then spoke in that still constantly calm voice as the necrotroopers continued to hold their perfect, mindless stance. The bay echoed slightly from the two voice as the only real source of noise.

"And what, precisely, makes so much sense, Mister Griff?"

Logan smiled wanly at Thrax, who seemed to enjoy being the stereotypical 'mysterious masked man', "We are not fools, Omega Thrax. The Black Hand has always prided itself on being well informed. We suspected months ago that you shadowy union was in existance, and I must thank you for killing our operative on Ord Mirit and confirming that existance."

Thrax made no reply, so Griff cointinued, "But I didn't know how extensive it was, and from what you say, it sounds very powerful and highly dangerous."

He smiled thinly, "Good."


Again, Thrax said nothing, hamming up his 'role' perfectly. Griff was unimpressed, "And you have come here to absorb me into the fold one way, " He eyed the Necrotroopers, "Or another?"

"Correct."

Griff fixed Thrax with a new, wary look. He had never met someone quite as unsettling as this masked person. And Griff had spent the last few years wandering the Unknown Regions, living like a cretin. A part of him was ready to go back, to take his rightful place in power.

But another part urged caution. This could be a trap.


But Xander Griff found himself not particularly caring. He had nothing to lose already, and it would be a very good idea to see for himself what truly existed within the bowels of the Galaxy.

Could be fun.


"Where do I sign?"

"Why, Mister Griff, you already have."

Omega Thrax reached forward, offering his hand, the one final act to seal the deal with what could be called the galaxy's devil. The Union stretched across the great expanses of space like a web, a spider sitting at its center who had yet to reveal himself at all, using pawns like Thrax to do the dirty work, make the alliances and deliver the messages.

"Just a shake of the hand and you're in, forever."

Thrax stressed the last word, even in his constantly calm voice.

Griff took his outstretched hand with nothing but a sense of dread. He shook the masked man's hand wondering just what had he gotten himself into.


"Never say forever, my friend." Griff said darkly, "Others have made the same mistake."


An turned towards his shuttle and walked up the ramp. At the top, he pasued and looked back at Thrax.

"And now they're dead."


And that was it.


Done.



I hope hell has vacancies.