Delaborde-class Star Destroyer Themis, in orbit via Till Chorios

The Scout Lab’s alabaster conference room was surprisingly sparse in inhabitants, especially compared to the last meeting before the discovery of the Neo-Grissmath headquarters on Ampliquen. A mere three people from different branches of the service had coalesced at the far end of one of the tables to discuss the revelations of Callie Sunrider as passed down to Adrian Ravenna from their fateful meeting.

“Interesting,” muttered Commodore Valeska, leaning back in her chair.

“Interesting!?” countered Saheel incredulously, jotting down notes on his datapad, “this is rather revealing of not only who the Party really is, but how they will do it…how can you be so bored.”

“Rather easily, apparently,” replied the woman callously, “With all due respect, Mr. Ravenna, how can you be sure that she wasn’t lying?”

The Jensaarai shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s a little difficult to explain when you’re…well…not like me…”

“Force-sensitive?” questioned Saheel.

“Yes,” replied the agent, “you can sort of feel how people are thinking, and see people’s thoughts if you’re perceptive enough…but I didn’t sense anything which suggested that she was lying…and her story checks out according to the rest of the Sunrider family, so we know she was saying some truth, at least.”

“But the easiest and cleverest way to lie is to insert lies within pockets of truths, or simply not tell all of the truth,” mused Valeska, “Can we be sure that it isn’t something of that?”

“Well, no,” replied the Jensaarai, “There isn’t a subjective way to do that I guess, and I’m not talented enough in that area to tell you much…but else do we have?”

“Documents,” replied Saheel, setting down his datapad, “When CSIS and local enforcement teams unexpectedly arrived, the Neo-Grissmath were caught offguard, they didn’t have the time to stage a proper evacuation or destroy all of their documents. Sure, some were destroyed, especially in the mainframes, but there were a bunch of personal datapads that were left untouch, and those haven’t been hard to decifer, but they don’t reveal much. More telling is what the slicers will recover when they do their recovery operations on the mainframe. It’ll take some time to do, but we should have some ample information on them…”

“It’ll be old though,” replied Ravenna, “meaning that it might not really help us.”

Valeska nodded. “I bet they’ll strike before that, or at least be taking precautions knowing that we could find the data, rendering it useless to us by the time we receive it.”

The intercom buzzed. “Commodore, we’ve received a message from Brachnis Chorios; it would look like someone’s trying to steal a lot of ore-loaded bulk freighters…they’re requesting assistance.”

“Send everything in the area to them,” replied Valeska, “including us. I’ll be on the bridge shortly.”

“The Neo-Grissmaths,” suggested Adrian.

“Not necessarily,” rebutted Saheel, “shipjacking isn’t exactly uncommon in the wilder regions of the Outer Rim…particularly ships with valuable cargos like metal.”

“And Brachnis is something of a sitting target,” replied the woman, scooping up her datapad and accessories off the table and into a bag, “because their defence force-”

“-was corrupt,” finished Saheel, “go ahead Commodore, I’ll fill him in.”

The woman nodded and exited out of the doors. “Thanks General.”

“Was corrupt?” questioned the Jensaarai, “as in past tense?”

“Yes. They were corrupt, but their new President, Perth Janaesson, when he was elected, fulfilled his duties in clearing out the corrupt people within their defence force. The problem was, the corrupt were a majority of the force, so now they’re rather understaffed…at least until they get more trained personnel. Rumour has it that they’ve been trying to enlist mercenaries and step up recruitment drives at home, but not with much success. The planet’s main industry, mining, is a bit more profitable for most people...”

Tréville-class Cruiser Terpsichore, near Brachnis Chorios

The local detachment of Confederate starships from the Chorios system swarmed across the space which surrounded the emerald and lavender swathed planet of Brachnis Chorios. Some of Task Force Justititia’s fastest capital ships, primarily Juaire Mk II corvettes and Tréville-class Cruisers, whirled across space in a chaotic dance, firing intermittent salvos of ionic bolts to disable the fleeing craft or unleashing wraithlike starfighters to accomplish the same end. Starships operated by Brachnis Chorios customs and Defence Force joined the Confederation in their odd exercise. No return fire greeted the Contegorian fleet, and from the bridge of Terpsichore, the entire ordeal seemed like playing a frenzied carnival shooting game while on spice.

“Drone barge A24 is disabled…”

“Ma’am, F67 has repowered up…”

“But how, the reactor was taken out?”

“Their auxiliary battery was still good apparently, mustn’t of been our best shooting…”

Sarah Adras smirked back. “I never would have guessed that…because we aren’t gallivanting across the system shooting up drone barges like a bunch of stormtrooper recruits hitting barn walls…”

Lieutenant Locke walked up from behind the red-haired woman, “I don’t get it, what are they trying to accomplish here by hijacking these barges with hacking? Drone barges aren’t exactly fast or armed, this isn’t too much of a challenge for us…”

Adras frowned. “It wouldn’t be a problem for us…but what about the native defence force?”

“They’d be overwhelmed?”

She nodded. “Some of the drone barges would probably get away.”

“Ma’am,” shouted an officer, “we’ve received a signal from the Brachnis Defence Forces, it appears that President Janaesson has been taken hostage.”

“This was a decoy then,” swore Adras, “they were understaffed, so they all scrambled to stop the barges, and in doing so, exposed the president. Damn.”



Delaborde-class Star Destroyer Themis, in orbit via Brachnis Chorios

A ghost in hazy cyan walked over the bell-shaped emitter that was one of the Themis’ holoprojectors. He wore a military uniform of sorts which resembled that of the Old Republic Judicial Forces before its metamorphism into the Galactic Empire. The aging man stared at and bantered with the Commodore Valeska, who deliberated over his words with measured nonchalance.

“What are their demands?” questioned Valeska.

The Brachnis Chorios native frowned. “To restore all formerly fired servicemen to their posts and place a candidate of their choosing as the new President.”

The Commodore nodded. “Brachnis Chorios will be turned upside down then. It’ll be an ugly devolution. I am sorry for you, General.”

“You’re not going to do anything?” questioned the man incredulously.

“I can’t,” replied the woman, gesturing with her hands in annoyance, “my hands are tied up. This is now an internal affair, and the only way I can get involved is with the permission of your planet’s interim leader, and then I can only delegate forces to your control. Might I ask who’s in control now?”

“I am,” responded the man, “but this is power that I do not relish. The people’s faith in the Defence Force right now is understandably weak, and I’m not some grand visionary who can make eloquent speeches on the fly. If things don’t get settled soon, there is going to be a lot of unrest, maybe even riots…what shall I do?”

“You have two options then,” advised the woman, “one is to give into their demands, the other is to send a rescue team and hope it goes well…”

“Giving into their demands isn’t the answer,” reacted the general, “that’ll lead to more distrust against the Defence Forces and almost certainly riots.”

“Then the matter is decided then?”

“No,” replied the Defence Force officer, “because I’ve concentrated on training the new recruits for customs duty and defence against invasion. We don’t really have anyone experienced in dealing with an operation that requires some subtley. Granted, we do have a hostage-rescue team, but it’s just…well…very green. They’re not fully trained yet…if I can ask, do you have a force that could do the job?”

Valeska considered the man’s request. “If this is a formal request for aid, and I am placing people under your direct command, then sort of. I have one man currently on my ship who is experienced in matters like this. I can send him down within a half-hour, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please do so. I’d be much obliged…”

Thimphu, Brachnis Chorios

Adrian wrinkled his nose as he took in a breath of the stale, sulfuric-smelling air which flooded the tunnels of the subterranean city. The Susevfian shook his head, and glanced about. The capitol of Brachnis Chorios was dug into a large cavern in the planet, and sealed off from the outside world, like most of the settlements on the planet. Three reasons necessitated this; the first because the planet’s livelihood depended on mining the ores located in the depths of the planet; the second, because the planet was far away from its star Brachnis, it was a relatively cold, inhospitable world, aside from the few places where geothermal vents ran through in the cavern. But perhaps more importantly, the natural atmosphere of the planet not only lacked oxygen to breath, but also consisted of the clouds of poisonous gases which seemed to color Brachnis Chorios from orbit. The Jensaarai warrior pulled out a datapad from his cloak and checked the map provided by the planets’ supreme commanding officer, General Furess. He slipped it back in and proceeded down a dank alleyway until he reached a metal grate. Glancing about, the agent made sure no-one was watching him, pulled out the grate, slipped into the sewage tunnel, and pulled the grate back into place behind him.

His boots splashed into viscous surface, and onto a thick sledge. The scents of squalor and garbage assaulted him, and the soldier held himself to not vomit from the stench. Ravenna’s hand slid down across his cold, metallic armor and onto his utility belt. After fumbling around on the belt for a little bit, the man pulled out a breath mask and strapped it tightly to his face. Seconds later, he withdrew a glowrod and tapped a button. A ghostly emanated from his across the tunnels, and the man began to trudge his way through the sewer system.



Government House, Thimpu, Brachnis Chorios

Granite pillars, taller than two Wookies stacked on top of each other, stood firmly across the edges of the room as silent sentinels to the prisoner; a man bound to his chair and gagged in the office of his glory. A young woman walked through the pillars and gave a predatory smile to the politician.

“How does this make you feel? This helplessness? The impending failure of your nation?” questioned Callie, pacing around the politician like a Corellian Sandpanther, “it’s painful. Believe me, I know. I know what it’s like. It tortures you, and will continue to torment you for the rest of life. I know what it’s like, I felt it on Naboo. And now you will share in my suffering and misery, mister President. But unlike mine, your suffering is justified. You had a chance to stop the rising darkness, but you have done nothing. Fool. Do you think they will not come after you eventually?”

A pair of doors slid open to reveal a grizzled man wearing a janitorial outfit of the Government House. But any likelihood of this man actually being a custodian was put to rest by the light repeating blaster cradled in his hand and a martial bearing. He sloppily saluted the woman.

“Hey Callie,” replied a Neo-Grissmath Fighter, “The Confederates have gotten all the barges disabled.”

She sighed, “At least they worked as a distraction. It’s a pity though that we won’t actually get any of the cargo. It would have been useful to a cause.”

“So we’re sticking to the plan?”

Sunrider nodded, “Yes. The Confederates have arrived, and I sense trouble coming from them. Be extra cautious, maybe even paranoid. I think…I feel a visitor will be approaching. You had best make things welcome for him, Bhampa.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Light uphead. Adrian tapped a button on his glowrod, extinguishing the faint light; one which had guided him through nearly a kilometer of winding and treacherous sewage tunnels. He clipped the glowrod to his belt and replaced it in his hand with the hilt of his lightsaber. The Jensaarai quietly waded through the viscous murk, and abruptly halted. His shut his eyes and began to block out all other senses: the sterile air which wafted up into his nostrils; the squishy sewage upon which he stood; the cold embrace of his dark battle armor. He let his mind slip, almost into another dimension, and channeled and focused energy at his ears. The previously gentle rippling of the flowing liquids became a ruckus which threatened to deafen him. But he could faintly hear voices echo throughout the stony tunnels, coming from nearby the light source.

“She says we have fifteen minutes probably.”

“And then what?”

“I dunno; maybe she knows that the defence forces are going to attempt a rescue mission. Why else would be doing this?”

“An escape distraction?”

“I guess…so much destructive though…we’re almost like the Empire now…”

She? Ravenna jerked his head out of the trance. He felt a tremor in the Force; a wily and subtle seeking. He had felt something similar before, on Pedducis Chorios, where he had found another Force-sensitive. But there was an edge of enmity; of irritation; of resentment. His eyes narrowed. So Callie is here. So the Neo-Grissmath’s are responsible. He felt the power of the seeking begin to narrow and tighten on him. Adrian immediately cleared all thoughts of the confused Jedi and the Neo-Grissmath Party from his head and focused on the city above him, letting the thoughts of the common people flow through him as if a rerouter; a trick of the Jensaarai which camouflaged them mentally from the Force probing and mental detection. The icy cold feelings of being hunted and pursued began to fade to numb nothingness. The Confederate agent dropped the scheme and let his own thoughts flow through him again. I can’t think or focus about her again…so these men up here….lackeys…but doing what? Well, I’m going to have to go find out... But he stood still, letting his breathing deepen, his concentration focus to an edge sharper than a vibroblade. Light around him flickered. Sound around him dampened. And the Jensaarai seemingly vanished from the outside world. The warrior carefully advanced. Keeping his movements physically quiet was not a difficult task; it was one of the training regimens the Saarai-kaar had run him and the other trainees through dozens of times as an exercise in controlling one’s body and learning how to redirect the flow of energy within one’s own body.

He neared the light and spotted the two conversationists loudly trudging through the sewage with packs on their backs. One of them toyed with a cylinder in his hand. Adrian’s eyes narrowed. A lightsaber? No…it’s too small…but I’ve seen it before…a detonator? But for what? I guess I don’t care to find out… The man casually tossed the detonator in the air, as if he were playing with a toy. The Jensaarai dropped his stealth stance, throwing a diminutive Force Push at the object. It wavered unnaturally into the air and plunged into the water with a surprisingly audible splash. One of the Neo-Grissmath fighters raised his hands in annoyance.

“What the hell Ben? You can’t be playing with things like that…”

“There’s something really odd…someone’s here-”

“…don’t kid me. Just pull out another detonator or something, like a large subcharge to set the demolitions off here. It’s not elegant or anything.”

“…fine, but you had better pull your gun out and cover me. I’m telling you, it may be not be a security squad or something, maybe it’s a diagona, but I don’t feel comfortable. The last thing I want is to be strangled to death by a bunch of tentacles.”

“Fine…fine…just get moving. Bhampa expects us out in a few minutes, and we shouldn’t be late…”

“Yeah yeah, I’m going…relax.”

One of the insurgents, presumably Ben, crouched down to the sewage’s surface and unslung his pack. Muttering to himself, Ben rummaged through the bag. The other man had followed through his promise, having drawn a blaster pistol, and sweeping it around the pair briefly. But complacent, he now stood still. Sensing their foolish comfort, Adrian lowered his stature, and began to creep forward. I may not be as good as Kitty when it comes to stealth, but I’m no slouch either. And their complacency will be their downfall. The Jensaarai’s emerald eyes fixated themselves on the unnamed fighter with a mixture of cautiousness and determination. Ravenna approached within two meters of them.

“Did you hear that?” questioned Ben.

“I didn’t hear anything..I-”

Ravenna lunged, abandoning all measures of stealth, and spreading a noisy wake in his trail. The husky man slammed into the Neo-Grissmath’s back like a bludgerball lineman. Both of the colliding men let out a grunt as they descended towards the murk. Adrian felt the impact of the Neo-Grissmath fighter’s body hit the stony surface and reverberate into his own body. The Jensaarai immediately rolled to face the bewildered Ben, who was fumbling for his pistol. As Ravenna’s waist twisted, his right arm surged forward to plant a heavy punch to the other fighter’s stomach. Ben’s face contorted in pain as he bent over in pain. The agent’s other hand swung down like a hammer to bash the Neo-Grissmath at the base of his skull. It connected with a dampened thud, and Ben collapsed into the sludge unconscious. The Jensaarai felt an impact to his back, and staggered forward from the assault from the remaining fighter. Adrian pivoted about on his foot and lowered his center of gravity in preparation for a wrestling action, but the other man was preparing for a fist fight: he fired his pistol. A beam of red light emerged from the flaring nozzle to stab at the man’s battle armor. The blaster bolt smashed into the breastplate of woven Cortosis and Impervium. A brief warmness flooded through the Jensaarai as the armor plating and the underlying blast-dampening suit absorbed the energy from the bolt. Adrian’s arm surged forward towards the Neo-Grissmath fighter, and the man flew into a stony wall of the sewer. The opposing soldier moaned in pain and collapsed into unconsciousness.

The doors creaked open, and Adrian winced. One can master CSIS training, practice stealth aided by the Force, but all of this stealth is ruined by a freaking creaky door. Heck, I haven’t had to worry about the guards. Ravenna frowned. Which is odd. The Neo-Grissmaths don’t to have ever had problems recruiting people for their cause according to CSIS. There’s always been some minor, extremist group to cater to. I should have seen at least a few more, unless they all got out of here for Ben’s special surprise. But then they know something is amiss. Adrian paused, pondering the two Neo-Grissmath fighters, bereft of their military gear, that were now tied up to a structural support in the depths of the Government House. Naw, they couldn’t have been able to warn anyone, at least not through technology…Callie might have gotten to them though, through the Force. The Jensaarai pressed through the doors into the antechamber before the president’s office. Another set of polished durasteel doors with engravings blocked his path. A resentful, feminine voice whispered into his mind.

You again? Why you Confederates are ever here, I will not understand. We share a common enemy, let us be.

Our modes and morals are different, and that is was not only separates us, but sets us against each other. If your group leaved innocent people alone, we might be supporting you right now.

Hah! I will not become the pawn of some lethargic government which cannot even stand up for itself.

You mistake our passiveness for weakness.

Do I? Show yourself, and let us talk face to face; and prove our words with actions, if you can.

The Susevfian abandoned all attempts at Stealth; his posture rose, concentration from Force shifted from avoidance to confrontation. Walking over to the doors, Ravenna let out a frustrated sigh. He pushed them open with force, and they swung open to collide with the opulent granite walls of the president’s office. He gazed between the pillars, noting three figures waiting for him. Callie stared at him with a cold intensity worthy of Hoth. A man tied up to a chair stared at him with an apprehension of fear and curiousity. Yet another man stood behind the corrupted Jedi, brandishing a large repeating blaster. Callie affected a snowy smile, and beckoned him forward.

“See we meet again, and I do not even know your name.”

“My name is not important,” replied Adrian, his hand settling on his lightsaber, “but my mission and cause are.”

“Really?” mocked the woman, “I didn’t know the Confederation had adopted the Imperial tendency to make their soldiers into faceless clones bereft of individuality. Don’t you support freedom of choice?”

“I support self-sacrifice for the common good,” countered the Jensaarai testily.

“Do you know,” muttered the woman, “I am not yet convinced. Let us have a test. Are you willing to wager your life for the sake of this so-called president? Are you willing to even risk your life as a sacrifice for a man you never knew, for a man you nothing about? The only thing you know is that this man is important to your superiors. Do not let them blind you. For all you know, he could have committed genocide.”

Adrain exhaled. “Even if he did, death is not the answer. Then he would needed alive to bring to trial.”

“And then executed?”

“No,” replied the CSIS agent, “then a lifetime pondering his sins, and hopefully, redeem himself.”

She snorted in derision. “Are you really so naïve? Prepare yourself. And Bhampa, here is your chance. Show me your prowess, show me your dedication, and I shall raise you higher yet.”

“Yes ma’am,” bellowed the Neo-Grissmath fighter, hefting his repeating blaster and facing the Jensaarai.

Adrian sighed, and whipped out his burnished saber. He tapped a button. With a characteristic snap hiss, his sapphire blade flared to life. The Jensaarai drew the handle so that the blade seemed to bisect his face and flourished it to the side; a classic sword salute. The saber continued backwards in its arc and orbited back to the front of the man to assume a conventional Soresu guard. Ravenna’s emerald eyes stared at his opponent in anticipation. Bhampa frowned, and squeezed the trigger of his weapon. The Jensaarai leaned to his right and jumped, propelling him away from the bolts in an evasion which placed him behind one of the massive, granite pillars. The blaster ineffectually chewed at the dark rock; engendering the noisome smell of burnt ozone into the room. Bhampa cursed quietly and advanced with caution, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise still room. The steps got louder, and Adrian leaned out from behind the pillar to rush his opponent. Ravenna’s blade cut through the stale air in a downward arc as Bhampa slowly leveled his blaster at the Jensaaria. He fired. Sparks sprang out from the barrel as the lightsaber cut through the dallorian alloy barrel, which also damaged the triprismatic housing of the weapon. The front half of the weapon tumbled to the ground in an inelegant crash, leaving Bhampa with a broken tool. The Neo-Grissmath fighter tossed his weapon at the Susevfian’s upper body. Adrian raised his left hand, and the stock stopped midair, and clattered to the ground. Ravenna stared coldly at his opponent.

“Is this good enough, Callie?”

She laughed. “You may have disarmed him, but you have not beaten him, Jedi.”

“Don’t worry Bhampa,” smirked Callie, “this one will not kill you. He’s too afraid to kill someone…”

Bhampa flashed a feral grin, and assumed a slightly hunched posture suitable for a wrestling match. Frowning, the Jensaarai tapped a switch on his lightsaber, and the blue beam retreated into the burnished hilt. He clipped the weapon back to his belt. Disgust seemed to emanate out from his emerald eyes; not for his opponents, but for the situation he was in. I’m Callie’s plaything right now…manipulative and mocking…she has fallen to the dark side. She must be stopped, but not yet. Not while the President’s life is still in danger. Staring at the approaching Neo-Grissmath fighter, Ravenna planted his feet to assume the rooted stance of Broken Gate. While he would have trouble moving with the stance, he was almost invulnerable to the pushing, throwing, and unbalancing which wrestlers tended to rely on. Bhampa hesitated, causing a brief smile to flicker on the Jensaarai’s face and causing Callie to frown. Ah, so he knows something about this. Callie’s face turned into that of an aloof, implacable statue while Bhampa’s face contorted into that of the furious rage which possessed the ancient berserkers. The Neo-Grissmath charged heedlessly at the Jensaarai. Out of muscle memories built up from hours of practice, Adrian grabbed the man and pulled him forward into an elbow smash from his right arm. The blow connected with Bhampa’s face. Ravenna felt tissue and bone give away to the forceful assault, and pain and fear flooding the other’s mind to fight the rage instilled into Bhampa by Callie. The Neo-Grissmath fighter lashed out in fear with a sloppily punch to the Jensaarai’s face, which Adrian absorbed with a static block from his left arm. Ravenna’s right knee sprung forward into man’s crotch. The Neo-Grissmath fighter yelped and doubled over in pain. Grimacing, the Jensaarai brought down his two fists in a simultaneous bashing blow to the base of Bhampa’s skull. The other fighter collapsed onto the floor into a deep unconsciousness.

Callie’s icy cold eyes stared at the Jensaarai unfazed by the defeat of her fighter. Staring back, Ravenna felt not the hate or anger which possessed the Sith, but the tired, resentful glare of an overworked teacher. She slowly shook her head.

“Congratulations, Jedi. You have beat another one of my men.”

“Then you will live up to your end of the bargain, and free the President?”

She cackled. “Ah, but when did I say I would free this man? This only shows that you are willing to sacrifice your life for this man, but no matter. I will let him go…provided one thing.”

“What is it?”

“I escape this planet without pursuit by your Confederate lackeys or this one’s peoples.”

Adrian reluctantly wavered. The woman drew her curved lightsaber hilt, and tapped a button; engendering a neon blade. She maneuvered the blade not to threaten the Jensaarai, but to decapitate the politician’s head. Callie narrowed her eyes.

“What is your choice? Are you willing to let me go for the sake of this man’s life? You certainly seemed to be willing to sacrifice your life for his, and your life for mine…”

“Fine,” spat out the Jensaarai, “I will not pursue, but do not harm the president, and just leave.”

The woman stepped back from the president, deactivated her lightsaber, and vanished into nothingness. Warily, Adrian walked over to the hostage, and untied the synthrope which bound him. As the coils touched the ground, Janaesson rose and removed the gag from his mouth. The politician silently stretched out his cramped limbs, and strode about the pillars of his office. Glancing at the CSIS agent, Janaesson frowned. Ravenna cocked his head to the side.

“Is something wrong, Mr. President?”

The politician’s face crinkled up into an indecipherable map of emotions. “I can’t help but think of what will happen with that woman on the loose. Part of me would rather see me dead; a celebrated martyr for his people and with her behind bars. No, her dead. This group that she leads; it manage to sow chaos and almost destruction with but one act: my abduction. I have to wonder about the fates of those unlucky planets that she does strike and whose people will have no friends to help them.”

Adrian nodded. “We must pursue her and the Neo-Grissmath Party, if she is to be stopped. For if we don’t, who else will?”

Janaesson nodded. “And the people of Brachnis Chorios, especially me, owe your government a dept. We too must pursue this perpetrator who sought to bring the reign of havoc to my people. We must join in on your hunt…”


Delaborde-class Star Destroyer Themis, in orbit via Brachnis Chorios

The Scout Lab conference room seemed much the same way as it had the day before, with pristine alabaster walls and furniture. Valeska and Saheel, wore their dress uniforms, having just returned from the surface where they visited the members of the newest government to join the Confederation. The two officers crisply paced into the room, carrying datapads. Adrian, still wearing his battle armor, slowly saluted the two, which was returned in a more precise and efficient manner by the two soldiers.

“You look like a mess,” informed Saheel, sitting down across from the Jensaarai.

“You look like you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while,” mentioned the commodore, sitting alongside the general.

The Jensaarai dolefully shook his head. “I can’t fall asleep. I just see her face.”

“Callie’s face?” questioned Saheel.

Adrian nodded.

“You let her escape,” muttered Valeska, “it’s natural to feel some frustration…some weight of responsibility on your shoulders for the failure.”

“But Commodore,” interrupted Saheel, “in doing so, he did accomplish the tertiary objective of the mission. Capturing or killing Callie was never on the to-do list.”

“That’s because we didn’t know she was there,” irately answered the naval officer, “so now we’re going to spend more time chasing her around.”

Adrian nodded in agreement.

“And people will probably get hurt because of my decision,” replied the Jensaarai, “but I felt that I had no other choice really. Not unless we wanted the president dead, and if Brachnis did install security cams in the office, they’d know his death would be my fault.”

“Then you really couldn’t have done anything better,” commented the Pedduccis Chorios native, “I think that you will find this won’t be the first time, nor the last that you find yourself in a situation like this…I won’t claim to know anything about your Force tradition, but I do know what the Confederation stands for, and that is to protect the innocent before punishing the evil. We aren’t the Empire, which in order to punish a criminal would kill twenty innocents without blinking an eyelash. We can do nothing more but to move on and work for a better future…”