This thread was begun before I deployed with the Army and was never finished. As a result myself and my rping partner, Herr Steda, are going to redo it. Enjoy


* * * * * *

Eriadu

The Crown Imperial was called the ship of dreams. It was, it really was. On her hull rested the memories of nearly every head of state across the galaxy. No government could claim her, she was a neutral platform where all soldiers, diplomats, and ordinary persons could come to relax and forget about the terrors that lurk behind ever pulsar. Hidden in the shadows are danger and fear, the true demons of the night: on the Crown Imperial they held no favor. Her luxury and elegance from stem to stern gave a lopsided battle and the darkness limped back into the Abyss. As true as her namesake, she embodied stately grace for every passanger who could afford a stateroom, modest accomodations for those of the middle classes, and the most exquisite steerage berths on any ship amongst the stars.


The White Nova Line held a prestigious record for impressive ships and the Crown Imperial made the rest of her fleet-mates appear as scowls. Drifting lazily above Eriadu on her fourth trip of the year, she was surrounded by tenders, cruisers, and various personal craft, the latter of which contained busy eyes, drinking in every detail of her fine lines and almost feminine beauty. She was large than an Imperial- and Victory-class Star Destroyer combined, space for over thirty thousand souls atop a crew a tenth of that within her bulkheads. The Crown Imperial was second to none and accordingly the waiting list for a ticket was quite extensive and held on it some of the most prominent names in the cosmos.


" Magnificent vessel," Rear Admiral-Baron Telan Desaria remarked to no one in particular as he too greedily gazed on the massive passenger liner. His shuttle made a long loop along the port-side around the bow to the landing-bay on the starboard-aft quarter, giving him an excellent view of the sparkling pool below the bridge and the stylish plasma-release funnel with its maneuvering fin. Even I can be impressed.


" Your Excellency," interrupted a voice from behind. Desaria turned to greet it. Malek, his bodyguard, was looking quite upset. " I beg you to reconsider. Please allow me to accompany you - you are not safe here!"


" Lieutenant, I will be fine. I will remain armed at all times; I have the transponder just in case. This is a vacation. You will remain aboard the Prometheus and shadow the ship. Try to relax. Your dedication is noted, but is not required this trip."


" Admiral, we are docking," called the voice from the cockpit. The Rear Admiral smiled and headed aft.


This voyage hasto cheer him up. By the Gods I pray for success, now more than in any battle.


When the shuttle landed inside the glowing shield of the launch bay, the ramp departed and Desaria anxiously awaited another ship's approach: that carrying his mate.

The shuttle that landed, disgorged a short and thin human male, then departed was far removed from the military vehicle that had preceded it. Both craft were Lambda-class but different enough to reflect the passangers contained therein. Bearing an Imperial Rear Admiral, the first shuttle was immaculate, polished, and flown by a veteran pilot whose turns were crisp and precise. The second carrying a young man from the world below was a great deal dirtier and emblazoned with some corporate emblem. Its pilot was competent enough but certainly not someone qualified to ever sit behind the controls of a vessel in His Majesty's Navy.


Rear Admiral Desaria noticed the rather unkempt appearance of the black-painted craft, wondering why it was even present: a special shuttle had been chartered from RimInc, ferry service of excellent standing. The answer was quick to the Imperial's mind, eliciting a knowing sigh. He missed his shuttle. I'm honestly not suprised.


The Kuati aristocrat regarded the fellow treading towards him, a droid in tow toting bags in each of four metallic arms. He instantly forgot his cares of slovenly flying and sloppy paint-jobs; his heart swelled. The man was a full head shorter than Desaria with a short-cut mane of black hair and blue eyes that looked as if they embodied the depths of Calamari's seas. He was thin, frail almost, certainly not a soldier, or officer, or any sort of civil official. Indeed, his forte was the private sector where he flourished as an artist.


" Markus," Desaria intoned, bowing slightly and offering his arm to the approaching figure. " Telan," came the reply, a bit colder than the Imperial would have liked. The Rear Admiral seized on it immediately.


" Something troubling you, my dear?"


The pair walked out of the hold in silence, the sounds of droids and barking technicians behind them. Markus Ariell held his reply until they were clear of the first-class launch bay and into a broad corridor more reminiscent of a palace-hall than a ship's component. " I had an opening last week."


Rear Admiral Desaria smiled. " I know - your work was lovely. I had a friend in the Civil Defense Corps observe in my stead and take a wealth of holos. Your talent never ceases to amaze me."


Many might have thought the praise empty; not coming from this particular Imperial. Firstly he was an aristocrat, a man born into wealth and privledge, whos eyes had seen the best works credit could buy. Secondly, though, and perhaps more pointedly, he was a man smitten, taken in by the wiles of love and held tightly against all release. His was a heart that beat strong next to another, so loud now in fact that it thundered from stem to stern. Its echo, however, the other half of the pair, was decidedly less uproarious.


" Yes, you weren't there. Again."


Desaria lead his lover around a corner and into the que before four staircases that lead to the executive area. Remembering the emerald chandelier denoting the location of their quarters, he lead Markus up a flight and tossed a casual left-handed salute to three members of the ship-security force who came to attention at his passing.


" Markus, I was on duty. We've been having a spat of trouble near Hutt Space and I was ordered to...neutralize...the threat. I returned as soon as victory allowed."


The younger man stopped, the droid carrying his bags backing off suddenly as if it would have run them both over. He looked into Desaria's own sparkling green eyes and planted a quick kiss on his lips. " Sometimes Tel, I wonder who you love more: the Empire or me."


Markus turned with a half-smile on his face, snapping his fingers so the droid followed him. The Imperial stood, wordless, in the center of a concourse. He ignored those swerving around him and sought against hope for an answer; it came subtly and without fanfare. I love you both.

The bag flew threw the air to roughly land atop the increasingly large pile in Steda's arms. Moving his body around abit, he did his best to distribute the weight before he was sent sprawling to the floor on his back. This was getting to be a servere nuisance.

"Uhm Sir, I really wouldn't mind if you told me to take a vacation on Mon Calamari or something. I've always found the water planet to be a luxury. I mean really Sir...." Steda grunted as yet another heavy bag was launched into his arms." Mon Cal can be fun."

"Commander, you are far too long over-due for a vacation. You're taking one whether you want it or not. That's an order." Throwing his gaze around the room that General Tempho himself had paid for, the senior military man locked his eyes on the door. "Now get out of my room and into yours before I'm forced to hit you. This ship is easily large enough for us to not see each other until the end of the journey. That is also an order. If I see any sight of you I might have to break military command. You're a good man Steda, you deserve a break. Take it, you don't know when the next one will be."

A hint of dissapointment showed in Steda's eyes as he made his way to the door. How on Naboo could he be here when the New Republic needed what men it could get. It seemed so unfair that he should get a holiday while other men got death. He didn't want to die but he wanted, at least, to be there fighting with his brothers. Fighting the Empire.

As he weaved his way through streams of passengers aboard the luxurious ship the thoughts seemed to endlessly pour within his mind. His entire body seemed to be in two parts whenever he thought of his career in the military. It felt so right to be fighting for peace but it felt so wrong with the lack of other things for him. He wanted to know love. To look into anothers eyes and see an eternity of endless passion and a mixture of feelings so strong that they could not be broken.

It seemed a horrible shame that even in a military as kind as the New Republic, love was still something that military personnel should not mix with work. Steda had no life outside the military, therefore he had no oppertunity to find love.

It came with a slight shock that he bumped into a large Quarren. So lost in his thoughts had he been that he had not even noticed his arrival at the deck of his room. Muttering his apoligies to the disgruntled alien he unlocked his door. Entering his room that was both luscious yet small at the same time. He decided a walk to the promonade deck would make for a good excuse to explore his surroundings. With a heavy heart he set off.

There was a crowd gathered around the Crown Imperial. As with every departure, there were onlookers a plenty - but this passenger liner was not any ship. The crowd was tremendous and all but blocked her path as a flotilla of tugs guided her from her berth. She made only four runs a year and the White Nova Line made each one memorable: no two runs were alike. The large ship slowly cleared the yard and let loose several projectiles that drifted away then exploded magnificently. Their was a brilliant display of colours of every kind, the staccato sounding of explosions accompanied far and wide by the typical 'ooh's and 'aah's.


Aboard the bridge there echoed the tradition commands of a vessel getting underway. Reports came in of all gauges reading normal and the Captain stood tall as he took pride in every second of his final voyage. In the reactor-control room droids twittered nervously amongst one another and the central computer, copious amounts of plasmized energy was fed into the twin-hyperdrive engines. In the broad observation galleries, occupants of all classes watched as the Crown Imperial accelerated with practised care and then rocketed into hyperspace.


In the private stateroom of the ship's highest-ranking passenger, Rear Admiral Desaria took the time to enjoy the panorama of whites and blues and occassional patch of yellowy-green. He found himself transfixed by the changing patterns and realized he had never taken the time to simply stare off into space without a care. " You painted something like this, didn't you?"


Upon a nearby bed sat another man, younger than the Admiral, watching intently the one-line jokes of some comedic holocast from Corellia. He grunted something that may have been vague construed as an affirmative response.


" It was very beautiful. I purchased it from an auction-house on Thyferra and had it installed in my study aboard the flagship. A slight reminder of you when I am far away."


Desaria unfastened the double-breast of his tunic and removed it altogether, placing the green-uniform jacket over the arm of a chair. Tapping a console opened a wood-inlay door that revealed a small closet space. " We have been invited to dine with the ship's Captain this evening. It is a formal affair."


" I brought a suit." The younger male continued his gaze at the female and male martial troubles, accenuated at every turn by poorly written jokes and an annoying yet occassionally loveable house-droid.


" Is it formal enough, I wonder? What colour?"


More silence.


" Are you ignoring me?"


Desaria suppressed a growl. He had had enough. Taking off at a run he crossed the distance from the closet to the bed and collided with his black-haired companion. The Admiral tackeled his lover and pinned the man to the bed. Try as he might, the civilian had no hope of resisting the professional soldier. Desaria straddled the man's midsection and looked into warm, welcoming blue eyes. Then he looked beyond into the soul.


" Markus, I have not always been able to be there for you. I have off many times, many times I wanted to be home with you. But I am bringing order to the galaxy, a lofty goal that through conquest brings food to the masses, and wealth to the wealthless. I have no regrets about the serving the Empire, but I do lament being away from you. I have been promoted and decorated countless times, but no ceremony gives me more pleasure and joy than when you are by my side. No matter where I have gone, no matter how long I have been away, my love for you has never waivered. That you can always be sure of." With that, Desaria leaned down and gently kissed his other-half. Then as rapidly as he had come he was off and returned to cloest, from which he drew his white dress uniform.


" Get dressed. We are expected in an hour."

Observation Deck

Steda watched in a state of mixed feelings as The Crown Imperial moved away from the cluster of surrounding ships and began the start of its long journey. As he gazed off into the serenity of space a man briskly approached him from behind. With his eyes traveling over the distant correlations of stars and his mind did it's best to work out which constellations he'd been to he gave no thought to the man getting closer. As soon as the mysterious man was within striking distance he spun on his heel and drew into a form of military combats, preparing to defend himself. It was only when he noticed the look of shock upon the mans features and the White Nova Line uniform that he wore that Steda allowed his posture to relax.

"Forgive the intruding sir, I'm here at the Captain's request." The man raised his chest in pride." You are cordially invited to dine with the Captain and a select few at tonights dinner. The dress is formal and you are expected at Six. Though of course if you do not wish to attend that is entirely your choice however this is a rare opportunity."

Steda mixed the thought around in his head. Though he despised sitting around with dignitaries talking about how the galaxy should be run it seemed like a chance that might not repeat itself any time too soon. After all it was very rare that a common Commander in the New Republics forces was asked to eat with men of higher rank than himself. Staring at the crewman he asked the first question that came to his mind.

"Why would the Captain wish to dine with me?"

"Why, I do believe that the recommendation was made by one General Tempho."

Typical Tempho style. It seemed sometimes that the General had made it his personal mission to force Steda into engaging in areas that weren't military related. With a sigh Steda decided that perhaps the man was right. His life seemed to be one military campaign after another.

"You may tell your Captain that I shall be there."

"Very good Sir. Have a pleasant evening."

As the crewman walked off, no doubt in search of others who would be asked to join the Captain that night, Steda threw one last look at the stars he loved. Deep within himself he made a vow. One day, maybe not for a long time, but one day I shall visit many of you. Joining the mainstream of traffic that were headed down the corridors, Steda set off for his room to get changed.

* * * *

Dining Hall

The Captains table was, to say the least, beyond extravagant. Designed to seat twelve it was not the largest table in the dining hall but it was easily the most expensive. It was in a state of slight awe that Steda seated himself with the nine others. Each of the people sat around him seemed completely at ease, yet Steda himself was so overwhelmed by the sheer luxury at which he would be dining that he found himself feeling extremely out of place. It was clear from the way his company acted that they were no strangers to dining with important people. He was focusing so much on his thoughts that he failed to even take true note of the fact that he was siting next to two Imperials.

From the grand wooden doors that opened one of the corridors into hall, the Captain strode forward, dressed in his full uniform. He briskly walked over to his table and nodded at each of his guests who rose in greeting to him. Seating himself at the head of the table, the others followed suit, he cleared his throat.

"As you may have noticed we await only the arrival of our last two guests. I am more than pleased to inform you that tonight we shall be dining with none other than Rear Admiral Desaria and his partner ."

Like Steda, everyone at the table knew the name of the Admiral. His exploits were spoken of so often on the holo-net that his name, on some planets, had become house-hold used. Though the stories you heard of the man varied greatly from planet to planet. As did his reputation.

"And alas, here is the man himself." The Captain rose from his seat and gazed over at two doors opposite to where he had entered. First to emerge from the grand corridor came a well dressed man that, had one not already seen his image on the holo-net, was easily recognizable as a Rear Admiral simply from the way in which he held himself. Behind him, seemingly attempting to hide in his lovers shadow, came a stunningly beautiful man.

Far inside Steda's body his stomach was churning as it hastily jumped around. His heart seemed to be pumping so loudly that it blocked all sound from his ears and he felt as if he'd just been plunged deep into space. As Desaria and Markus arrived at the table the Rear Admiral offered a tight smile to all gathered before launching straight into a conversation with the Captain. Mirroring that of his lover, Markus did the same. When his eyes fell upon Steda, Steda could of sworn the smile became slightly warmer. His cheeks suddenly flushed red and he was forced to look away. Had someone just turned the heating up eight notches?

As the night edged further and further on, as the men drank more and more Endorian port, as the food was ordered and served Steda constantly found his eyes drawing back to Markus. Several times he conversed with a Mon Calamari on his right side yet throughout the conversation he would find himself only half paying attention to the Mon Cal. No matter how hard he tried Steda could not shake his thoughts away from the young man opposite him. Whether Markus was laughing at a joke that had just been told or listening intently to someone talk about a fascinating piece of art that had just been discovered he never once lost the warmth that filled his eyes or the smile on his face. Only once did Steda notice that smile falter, when Desaria chose what meal his lover would have that night.

Feeling full from the wonderful food that had graced his plate that evening, Steda rose alongside and announced that he would retire for the evening. Realizing that he might have no further opportunities to see the angel that had sat across from him Steda decided for once in his life, to act on the moment. While Desaria was speaking to a waiter that had came to take the dirty dessert plates away Steda lent down beside Markus and whispered in his ear.

"I don't know about you but I find this stuff incredibly boring. I have it on good advice that there's a party down on E-deck tonight. If you feel like meeting for a drink there I'll be arriving at about Ten." Raising himself back up Steda turned, thanked his host for a great night and departed with a great deal of others.

" I don't know about you, Admiral, but my portfolio is strictly Arakyd. It is a common enough trait for automation to prevail and the way Republic agents are buying up droids I can't help but feel the market to be on the up-swing."


Rear Admiral Desaria let a smile crease his face as he considered what the elder man said. His was a wise point from a singular point of view, but one that lacked enough depth to be more than meal-banter. The Kuati nobleman, however, was not above idle banter in the company of fellow sophisticates.


" A unique perspective, Captain. I admit, I have concentrated my investments into KDY for obvious reasons. " A chuckle replied from the listening males at the table. " I have found that a wider array of secondary stocks can bring in a sizeable income as well - not to mention a tinge of civic responsibility. Think - where would we be if no one had given us a chance? Even if we lose a few hundred thousand credits, we have a clear consceince and no appreciable fiancial loss..."


The salad came and went, as did the appetizers. The main course was perfect and elegantly laid out to a fault. From far and wide came the finest delicacies that were poured over and picked at by older men watching their cholesterol and young women watching their weight. The time came and went and before any man realized the chronos were past three hours since the commencement of the meal. Many of the guests had already departed the dining hall and several of the attendees at the Captain's Table were visibly tired or completely disinterested.


" Gentleman," intoned the Captain, standing tall and straightening out his dark blue uniform jacket. " May I invite you all for a brandy?"


Three men stood, each in resplendent evening wear, and trailed off behind the ship's master having given leave to their dates and wives. Rear Admiral Desaria leaned over to Markus and was quick to note that his head snapped from one direction to another faster than ever. With a quick glance Desaria took notice of a Republic officer, young and handsome and not at all unattractive. He wore the insignia of a junior rank and bowed slightly when the two made eye contact. Respect was offered and returned with a similar gesture.


Rear Admiral Desaria cocked an eyebrow then placed his sneaking suspicions into a mental abyss - he was all too often thinking things that never were. " My dear, would you like to join-"


Markus huffed with a smile on his face. " I doubt I can sit through anymore talk of Sienar Fleet Systems stock or the strategic importance of the Tion Cluster. I'll head off."


The Admiral was preparing to retort when Markus stood and departed, hot on the heels of Lady Alsas Morideau, wife of the Chief Executive Officer for Corellian Engineering. Desaria sighed and departed after the other gentleman where a good brandy and hand-rolled cigarras awaited.





He checked his chrono with a slight bit of nervousness on his brow - ten minutes to ten. Almost running down the corridors he made excellent time to he and his lover's stateroom where formal attire was chased in for something flowing and decidedly more modern. Resuming a fast pace, he descended into the bowels of the ship just a deck below first class into second. By a lone lift-tube he stood wearing a red silk shirt that clung very close to a defined yet unmuscular frame atop dark coloured slacks.


Around a corner came an the object of distraction from an hour before. " You're a brave man, mister - guess that comes with the uniform. I'm Mark."

Strange, Steda thought as he tilted his head forward then moved it backward again. He'd been standing in the same spot for nearly eleven minutes, his gaze affixed to the pattern on the wall before him. When he moved forward the pattern became a series of diamonds but when he moved backward it became a group of squares. Hs mind was a nervous wreck as he waited in hope that the man he had only briefly met before would meet him. Every now and then he would throw a look to the watch around his wrist. Ten o clock had come and gone, then five past ten then ten past ten. It was twenty minutes after the time he had suggested to Markus that they meet when he finally gave up and decided to leave. He had just began to walk away when he heard the voice.

"You're a brave man, mister - guess that comes with the uniform. I'm Mark."


He turned to look at the speaker. The sight that met his eyes was such a luxury to him that he suddenly found his voice was missing.

"Did I say something wrong?" Markus said, a slightly worried look perched on his face.

"Uhm, yes...I..uhm....I. Sorry, my thoughts were somewhere else. So, you made it then? I didn't think you would. You seemed nice and all but.... I mean your nice, I wasn't trying to say your not I... I just thought. Do you mind if we start again?" Steda's brain seemed to have gone into overload. The words that entered his head became jumbled and mixed. Why did Markus have this strange effect on him?

"Go for it." Replied Markus, a knowing smile upon his face.

"You're loving this aren't you?" Questioned Steda as he bared a grin at the gorgeous guy.

"Just a little," Markus teased, "so, this party then, where is it?"

"Just down here. Follow me." Steda turned and walked down the corridor with a new bounce in his step. He couldn't help but keep thinking about the way Markus was acting. Did he know that Steda liked him? Could he tell somehow? What of his Imperial lover? He didn't even notice that he'd walked five doors past the room of the party.

"Are you sure this is the right way?"Markus queried. "It's just the room back there had alot of music coming from it and was fairly crowded."

"Oh...uhm, yeah. That would be the room." Steda turned a face red from embarrassment on Markus. "Shall we?"

Together they returned to the room a few doors back and entered. If noise could be attributed to how fun a party could be then the room they had entered would be in the top ten. With loud music from planets such as Corellia and Coruscant blaring out, with loud people screaming out as they enjoyed themselves and drunken species rambling around the room the noise pressed heavily against their ear drums.

Steda turned to see a small smirk playing on Markus' lips. "Well, it could be fun."

Leading Markus to a table Steda sat down and ordererd them both drinks. They'd been sat there for near on thirty minutes, making casual conversation, when Markus uttered the dreaded words.

"So are you going to ask me o dance then?"

"Uhm,...well...Do you want to?"

"Sure Mr confident."

Pulling on Steda's arm Markus led him to the middle of the room where species from every planet imaginable where dancing. As they weaved their way through the others a fast and powerful tune began to issue from the large speakers on the walls. Unsure as to where his sudden confidence was cming from Steda winked at Markus and immediatley launched into a highly embarrasing and easily laughable dance routine. Though he could barely keep inline with the music and was constantly stepping on Markus' feet, Steda could help but warm greatly at the sight of the smile that played on Markus' lips.

Acting on impulse, the New Republic Commander gently lent forwards and pressed his lips against those of the artist he had already come to adoure. Though the kiss lasted no more than seconds a warm feeling spread from the tips of Steda's fingers to the ends of his toes. It seemed to last forever, when suddenelly he felt Markus go stiff and push him away.

"I'm sorry," Steda quickly said, backing away, "I don't know what came over me"

Bringing his gaze up from the floor which he had hurried to look at, Steda expected to find a look of hurt or anger upon Markus' face. Instead, all he saw was a mix of shock and horror. It was almost as if he had walked in on a pair of mating Hutts. Markus' eyes were fixed intently on a man who had just entered the room of the party. A man who was easily recognisable as an Imperial bodyguard.

The music was certinaly something he enjoyed. A strong walking bass-line underscored rather intense synthesized melodies. Songs to War to he thought as he moved deeper into the mix of people, already thick as thieves on the steps leading from the corridor to the dance floor. He certainly enjoyed the music, but the people there were another matter entirely. Most wore eccentric clothing beckoning more of homeless vagabonds than respected members of society. It was a common enough trend among the adolescents of the galaxy, one that repulsed Lieutenant Malek as he glanced left, then right.


Looking about, it was easy to see he did not fit in. He was almost forty years but still in excellent shape - more than most half his age. He had the barrel chest and strong arms of every Sergeant-Major in every service the universe over, himself only taking a commission at the urging of his charge, an Imperial Rear Admiral. He wore a loose brown jacket over black shirt and trousers, looking almost presentable among so many unfitting of such a description. With every second that passed, he wondered more and more why he come in. I needed a drink.


The Lieutenant spotted an open seat at the bar and made a bee line for it. To do so he had to swerve and miss a fast-moving droid showering the room in strobing illumination. As he came about he looked at a nearby grouping of tables and saw a figure he instantly recognized, one he had seen his charge cry over time and time again, one he knew should been many places save the same as he. Then his eyes moved to the man next to him, a soldier without doubt. He wore a jumpsuit that was unmistakeably un-Imperial. The two locked lips, slipping into bliss for more seconds than a casual hello allowed.


He can't be. Can he? Malek was confused. Emotion whirled over him as he tried in vain to understand why Markus was kissing someone other than Baron Desaria. He was not a bright man, but the answer came soon enough. That Rebel is trying to steal the Admiral's lover! So much for the music.


" Care to dance, Mr. Bigarms?" asked a highly intoxicated female Omwatti. Malek shook his head and took off at a run through the crowd. He had a duty to do and do it he did, pushing dancers couples and server droids from his path. Epithets were screamed in his direction but the crowd closed around the breech like so much goo. Legs trained on countless fields and under some of the brightest but most brutal Drill Instructors the Empire had to offer kicked at the floor, propelling him faster and faster towards his destination - the traitorous Rebel.

"Markus, please, tell me what's wrong!", Steda's question held just a hint of fear. So far Markus had seemed nothing but bubbly and fun, what was so bad about seeing an Imperial here that it had caused him to become almost paralyzed, "Do you know that Imperial? Markus!!"

Markus suddenly seemed to flick back into reality, the shouting of his name bringing him out of his trance.

"We have to leave! Now!!! Please Commander, we have to go now!"

"Commander!! Oh come on Markus, you can call me Steda, I wont bite"

"Fine, Steda, please we have to leave!"

"Why," Behind Steda lots of commotion seemed to be building up. It appeared that Imperial was now shouldering his way through the crowd, knocking aside anyone in his way. Heading Directly for where Steda and Markus had momentarily been kissing just a minute before.

"Ok, I think I might just be able to live with that decision, in fact the probability of living probably rises with it. RUN!!" The last part was nothing more than an all out shout, which for obvious reasons was picked up by most of the occupants in the room, all of which seemed to assume the shout had been directed toward them. For a couple of minutes everyone in the near vicinity seemed to remain motionless, the only sound came from the band and those nearby, the next second, everyone was running, pushing and shoving their way toward the doors.

Running through a crowded area is hard enough, running through a crowded area where everyones trying their hardest to head in the same direction as yourself is far beyond that. One second Markus' hand was was being gripped tightly by Steda's hand, the next he was being pushed right back to Telan's bodyguard, and Steda was no where to be seen. There was no disputing that Malek was used to commotion like that surrounding him. He seemed to be sweeping through the crowd faster than anyone else and within Markus found himself within Malek's grasp.

"Let me go you scumbag, let me GO!!" Shouted Markus, furious at Malek. He tried his hardest to grab, kick and punch at Malek, but it was all to no avail. Every direction his flailing limbs moved in, was the one that Malek had just moved from.

"I'm taking you back to Baron Desaria, you can tell him all about what you were doing here tonight, and then maybe he'll see sense and get rid of you!"

"Try it idiot" Shouted a voice.

Turning around, Markus still firmly in his grip, Malek scanned the crowd for the person who had dared disagree with him. Before he knew it Steda's fist was flying toward his face, suddenly knocking him backward into the still rushing crowd and causing him to lose his hold on Markus. Grabbing Markus' hand, Steda all but dragged him to the exit.

"Which way do we go now Steda?"

"Deck Four, route thirty eight. There's a well hidden little cargo bay there, right near the hyper drive. I don't think guests are exactly allowed down there, but then again we've probably broke enough rules so far that one more can't hurt."

“ Try it idiot.” The words heralded a forceful blow. The gruff lieutenant had turned, laid eyes on the pale-faced Coalition officer, and been hit square in the center of his scarred face. The power behind the strike was a good deal greater than Malek thought the man capable of. He had paid for his underestimation with blood, blood which was running down his face and onto the barely-fitting shirt he had chosen for the evening. There was little doubt his nose was broken and to be sure it hurt greatly; Malek’s pride however was far more injured.


By the time he had shaken off the effects of the punch, Markus and the Coalition saboteur were running off. Several people had stepped on him as he sat on the polished dance floor and he had cared little. For twenty years he had been a soldier and until two months ago he was a Sergeant Major that personified the corps of non-commissioned officers throughout the Empire: strong, efficient, not overly intelligent, with a barrel chest, foul mouth and leathery skin weathered by more fields than most flag officers would ever see. That was the energy that surged through him as the full realization of what happened hit him harder than the Rebel nerf-lover ever could. He had been beaten! Anger pulsed through his body and his heart thumped mightily.


Malek rose to his feet, pushing four teenaged boys from his path with one swoop of his muscled arms. They went flying, sending new-aged epithets in his direction, none of which Malek could have heard if he wanted to - the music had not stopped. People were still dancing and partying and people were still enjoying themselves. Malek extricated himself from the veritable sea of young rabble-rousers by pushing and shoving and elbowing his way through. The only one who had dared to stand up to him went flying into a server droid carrying a pale of lager.


The nearest exit was the only way out on that side. They had to have gone through here. It was stuck! Malek stepped back and grunted, sending his left crashing into the emergency push bar. The door flew open, a small chair propped up to prevent its entry shattering in the corridor. He pushed in and turned left. Nothing. Right, still nothing. Where?


Instinct took over - Malek turned left moving past bulkheads like a hunter chasing prey. He saw a nearby room that should have had a latch on it. The latch was open - on the Crown Imperial, the security staff would not be so sloppy. The bodyguard reached inside his jacket and removed a long-barreled MerrSonn pistol, an outmoded weapon boasting short range and promising an unhealthy square-half-meter to whatever flesh was in its charges’ path. Again a foot kicked in the door to what was an ante-room of some sort of ventilation circuitry. There was only one way out - through a blast door. There would be no kicking it. Instead he tried the control panel. Sealed! Malek kicked it anyway.


“ Hold it!”


Sweat now beaded on his face, the massive man turned to face a pair of ship’s security officers, each pointing a new BlasTech DL-44 carbine at him. “ Step away from the door.”


Malek growled and raised his pistol above his head. “ I am an Imperial officer, attached to the staff of Admiral Desaria. I am his bodyguard. A Coalition saboteur is through here. I am going to bring him to the Admiral.”


The lead security officer lowered his rifle and called into a comlink attached to one of his shoulder straps. “ Identification?” Slowly, Malek removed a flimsy identification card from his pocket, handing the officer also a code cylinder. The identification was flawless, replete with fifty counterfeiting-stops alone that spoke volumes as to its authenticity. A tense moment passed as the ship’s emergency dispatcher verified Malek’s identity. The other carbine was lowered, both men offering quick apologies.


“ I would have done the same. Now help me get in here.”


“ Through there? If it’s been sealed then we can’t. It’s a cargo bay. We’ll have to head around and in through the gangway. This way.”