Lucerne Mansion, Kashan

The blond man sidestepped, letting the silver blade of a broadsword hack into the air where he stood mere moments ago. The man’s own blade rose from the ground in a fluid reverse hack towards his opponent, who promptly retreated out of the blade’s path to assume a standard en garde position assumed by fencers across the galaxy. Corise nodded at the opponent, bringing his blade into a high guard position. Distance can be the best defence sometimes.

Grimly smiling, the younger Lucerne steadily advanced to his opponent, Commander Fyre, keeping his Ultrachrome blade in the same high guard. Fyre lunged, extending his arm and sword for a deep thrust aimed at the Rear-Admiral’s heart. With his own blade, Lucerne tapped the tip of Fyre’s sword, knocking the thrust completely off target; Fyre’s blade sallied forward into empty air. Vulnerable to a open strike, Fyre grappled Corise’s sword arm. The Kashan officer strengthened his grip on his sword, pounding Fyre’s own sword arm with his left. Fyre’s sword clattered to the ground. The Commander shrugged.

“It appears that we’re in a draw; I don’t have a sword, and you can’t use yours.”

Corise shook his head, glancing down at Fyre’s stomach. Fyre frowned, and looked down. He let an irritated sigh.

“Frak you. That’s cheating.”

The Rear-Admiral let out a grin, pulling back the hold-out blaster from Fyre’s stomach and returning it to its concealed holster.

“All’s fair in love and war, Commander.”

“But that would be cheating. There isn’t anything about using pistols in Kashan Swordplay.”

Lucerne shook his head. “There is no such thing as cheating in war. If the Empire were to show up at Genon with the Ebony Vigilance, could we complain that they were cheating? I think our claim that they were cheating would be a ridiculed…and then Genon would be destroyed.”

Fyre flipped through a strand of his dark hair. “You know, there might be a slight difference between the Empire using an Eclipse and you using a holdout pistol in swordfight.”

The younger Lucerne nodded, returning his mortuary sword to its scabbard. “True. Do you know why Kashan Swordplay is still taught at the academy?”

Fyre nodded and smiled sarcastically. “So all of our naval officers can confront Jedi and Sith in battle. We’re obviously superior in training in swordsmanship and our gigantic crowds of naval personnel numbers will win the day.”

The Rear-Admiral ruefully shook his head. “That might actually work…provided that every officer has the faster reaction times than a force-user.”

Fyre shrugged, picking up his sword. “They…errr…the force users…certainly wouldn’t expect it. Especially when they realize lightsabers can’t cut through Ultrachrome-plated swords.”

“No, you’re right. And the same property of Ultrachrome obviously wouldn’t conduct force lightning directly into the wielder’s hands.”

Fyre smiled. “Is that why we have the synthetic gloves? They don’t conduct electricity terribly well.”

“Yes, it’s part of our anti-force user pack that every officer gets. It helps since we confront Sith all the time,” joked the officer, “Now, one can argue that it has its use against enemy borders. But that’s pretty limited. It’s reason for inclusion in Kashan curriculum is to keep our officers in good shape, train them to think critically in combat, and develop confidence-”

“Aggression. To develop aggression.”

Corise shrugged. “It does that too.”

Fyre pivoted around, scanning the wood-paneled wall. “When’s lunch?”

The Rear-Admiral glanced at his chrono. “In a half standard hour.”

“Wonderful.”

Opening the doors, the Rear-Admiral swept his eyes around the Lucerne dining room, noting the various works of art, mostly pre-Clone Wars vintage from Alderaan; relics gathered by his father before the family’s transplant to Kashan. Several House of Lucerne banners hung ceremoniously from the vaulted ceiling. At the centre of the marble floor stood a hardwood table, this one a relic from his mother’s side of the family from Kuat. Corise stepped in, Fyre following him; their footsteps echoing throughout the room.

“Sweet home, huh?” stated the Commander, his eyes wandering around the room.

The younger Lucerne mirthlessly smiled. “You mean my parents’ sweet home. This place looks like it should be in a museum to me.”

Fyre snorted. “Or as some holo set.”

Corise nodded.

Fyre shrugged. “You’ve heard the latest INS news report.”

The Kashan man nodded. “Most of the Confederation has seen it. It was interesting at least. Besides, the newest broadcast makes Zell seem somewhat foolish.”

Fyre cocked his head to his side. “How so?”

“Zell contradicted himself. On one hand, he claims that the Empire did not know about the Confederation being a part of the Coalition. But he then proceeds to use the fact that the Confederation is part of the Coalition in order to justify the use of a punitive attack on Metalorn. So, within a half hour, he has claimed two completely different things, and viewers are noticing that,” mused Lucerne, “he’s been caught in a lie; that reduces his credibility. People can claim that evidence was manufactured or records were erased in these debates whether the Empire knew of our membership within the Coalition; Imperial Intelligence or CSIS could have do certain aspects of that process, but how do you erase the memory of people who have saw Zell’s mistake? I suppose through the Force perhaps, but in that case, there are going to be several thousand force-users running across the galaxy trying to erase millions of people’s memories. If you have to lie, you have to keep a good memory; though I suppose I’m really not surprised that Zell forgot. He is getting old. In any case, every time they try to put something through INS, it tells about the questions and problems they’re dealing with on the home front, and the effectiveness of their propaganda. Some of our analysts are beginning to joke about INS being their daily entertainment.”

Fyre’s mouth gaped. “Their daily entertainment? They have nothing better to watch?”

The Rear-Admiral nodded, pulling out a hardwood chair for Fyre. “For them, yes. Propoganda is an interesting thing. It can backfire just as easily as it can succeed. The smallest word used in a sentence of a pages long news report can trigger can move the masses.”

“You’re saying INS is a propaganda machine.”

Corise laughed hard. “It’s not even slightly concealed, mainly so because it’s not even close to balanced. Has anyone ever seen any criticism of the New Order on the show? Everyone makes mistakes, even our own Pro-Consul, but the sheer lack of mistakes made by TNO shown by the show seems abnormally suspiciously to even a mildly observant watcher. That is, if they didn’t know already know it was a propaganda effort. It’s very name shows that it’s directly connected to TNO.”

Fyre frowned. “Isn’t CCNS name directly connected to our own?”

Corise nodded. “Yes, namely because that’s the government’s official press release organization. Sure, there are some independent columnists and editorials that in every edition, but most of it is for government personnel, by government personnel. I think the editorial by Ms. Toymia is an excellent example of a government personnel making a contribution to the paper. Whether what was presented in it was correct or not is certainly up for debate.”

Fyre shrugged. “It certainly sounded better than whatever crap Zell was saying.”

Lucerne leaned back in his chair. “Like my underwear? Zell is if anything amusing. I’d say he is generally the comedy part of the show.”

Fyre stared at him. Corise shrugged.

“Case and point, the ridiculous amount of insults geared at the Coalition at large. It’s just as much of a turn-on for people as it is for turn-off. In fact, I bet it hurts the propaganda efforts in some ways.”

“Oh?”

Corise shrugged. “Would you take political advice from a landspeeder mechanic?”

Fyre frowned. “No…”

“He sounds like a landspeeder mechanic; the diction, the cussing, the continual insults. He doesn’t seem remotely professional in anything, which in turn discredits him to more people than the whole plain folks concept could possibly endear him.”

The Commander nodded. “I want to say something like every 3 words was either insult or a swear word of sorts. You know, I think a lot more assertions were made rather than actual facts.”

Corise nodded. “Which in turn discredits INS to anyone who actually digs for information past INS itself. The fact that Starwind station isn’t secret for example; in fact, TNO ambushed a diplomatic convoy heading to the summit, so they must of known of it somehow even if it wasn’t advertised on Coruscant. I’d bet that most of their mildly intellectual populace doesn’t believe a word they say.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever hear of the ancient story of the Boy who Cried Wolf?”

Fyre nodded. “Tell a lie so many times that no-one will believe you?”

The older Kashan man nodded back. Fyre glanced at his chrono for a second.

“Isn’t the opposite also true? Tell a lie so many times that people will eventually accept it as truth?”

The Rear-Admiral nodded. “Certainly, if the target audience never really analyzed or even questioned the content. That happens sometimes, to be sure, but you have to be pretty dimwitted not question where the information is coming from, or is the person trying to influence me for his own selfish end? Is the information confirmed by other sources? That’s one of the main faults I see with INS, in fact, that since it only appears there, it has no backing one way or the other.”

“One could say the same thing about CCNS.”

Corise snorted. “Not really. CCNS is one of many holos throughout the Galaxy, or even the Confederation. Aside from a few government press releases, the news stories presented there are shown by other, private holos. People can cross-reference, and they do, if they want to find the truth. And that contributes to what I think is interesting.”

“Hm?”

“The separation INS is creating among the Empire’s populace.”

Fyre stared at the Rear-Admiral. “Are you sane?”

“Just hear me out. Basically there are three types of people in regards to INS. The people who think that INS is the Word of the Maker, the people who pay no attention to it, and the people have paid attention to INS, looked further, and realize it’s a sham.

The first group are the people who don’t look further. Those are the people to whom the lies have become a truth. In general, those are the people who aren’t terribly smart or intellectual; they don’t think for themselves-”

“Like sheep, dumb and easily led,” interrupted Fyre.

Corise shrugged. “Something like that. The people who pay no attention to INS generally have pretty neutral feelings to the Empire, the Coalition, and most major powers. They are the people who just care about their civilian job, their family. It doesn’t matter to them who rules their planet, as long as neither of the above are effected. It’s a reasonably sizeable group, mostly in the Empire’s outlying worlds, or so the analysts tell me. That’s something that people seem to forget. Simply because someone lives within the Empire doesn’t mean they’re a die-hard supporter of the Regime.”

“One could say that about the Coalition.”

Corise shrugged. “In general, not really. Namely because the people under the Coalition government do so by their own will. There might some neutrals, like Stellar’s factory workers on Genon, but not to the extent of the Empire, whose continual conquests are bringing neutral parties under their banner.”

“So simply because the Empire has a larger population doesn’t mean they have a whole lot supporters with which to operate their military and its assets.”

“Correct. In fact, some of the neutrals tend to become anti-Imperial once the Empire has invaded their planet. That’s how a lot of grassroots resistant movements form. It’s rumoured that there’s one on Bandomeer, or was it Serenno? Well, wherever the Empire came up with the bright idea to bombard a civilian park...”

The black-haired officer leaned back. “And the third group?”

Corise grinned. “The people who actually think; the intellectuals, the deepthinkers. These are the professionals; they have an education, and they use it. If you see the lies, there are a lot of interesting turns that one could take. One is to recognize the lies, see what they really are, and act on them. That’s where you get the critics starting to form up and educating the public-”

“Which leads to internal strife-”

“-and the other option from that path is to leave the Empire and head elsewhere.”

“Basically brain drain?”

Corise nodded. “Brain drain. Which is bad for them, obviously because of a lack of professionals, and generally because those self-exiled professionals come to the Coalition to reverse what they’ve found out what the Empire is. Or more often, they go to a neutral world or faction like the Vinda-Capricia Commonwealth.

On the other hand, once they’ve discovered the truth, they could deny it, which leads to their ignorance and incompetence in other matters, or to being morally corrupt. Something which is easily used by covert elements, whether it be GLF or the Bothan Spy Network. Or even us, if it comes down to war. In any case, I think we have some exiles coming through immigration, not a whole lot, at least not compared to flux from the poorer worlds. I imagine will be keeping customs busy for a while; and myself.”

Fyre raised an eyebrow. “I knew we had an influx of people coming here, but how are exiles from the Empire going to be keeping the SCO busy?”

Corise smiled. “Well, these exiles aren’t from the Empire. They’re from something much smaller. After dinner gets here, I’ll get you the briefing on how the immigration is going and the other matters while I’m gone to the exiles.”

“You should make a holo about this conservation.”

Corise raised an eyebrow. “So you can be a holo-star?”

Fyre gave an irritated glance to the younger Lucerne. “Because the ideas are interesting.”

Corise shrugged. “Those aren’t my ideas. They’re already floating around in various holos except for that last analysis part. That’s the work of CSIS analytical intelligence branch…”

In the distant past…

ESD Guardian, Kashyyk

The gray, sword-shaped vessel loomed over the gray and green mottled planet. Several Majestic-class Heavy cruisers and a smattering of smaller New Republic vessels clung around the flagship. X-wings swiftly soared about the fleet in pairs: combat space patrol. Some of the starfighters lazily kept pace with the multitude of various cargo craft moving to and fro from the Guardian. It was an impressive sight to behold, and one that had become common: the Guardian had been used as a base ship over the Wookie homeworld for several months now. And finally, the warship would be leaving its home port.

“Admiral’s on the deck!”

The shrill whistle of several pipes whined throughout the bridge, much to the exasperation of the newcomer. Her hazel eyes scanning the massive bridge of the battleship. Lahani Stryder strode onto deck, wearing the white dress uniform of the New Republic Defence Forces. She wiped a strand of her brown hair out of her eyes to gaze through the viewport at the planet below. It’s been so nice here. It’ll be hard to let it go. She caught an amused glance from Lieutenant Bielos. And now to get stuck with these invisuls. I’m pretty certain I’ve seen more respectable chaps back in the old days with father in the cantina.

“Admiral?”

Stryder spun around on her heals to face the humanoid. She quickly assessed the being. Blue skin, frail frame; curly hair…he’s an Omwati. The Admiral glanced at his uniform. And a New Republic Science Officer, a high-ranking Scientist Officer. Director of the Deepspace Research Laboratory? She hestitated before offering a slight bow.

“Sir.”

The Omwati’s cheeks turned purple for a second. Is that blushing?

“I am Chief Scientist Jacque Piquedram, I’ll be in charge of the Laboratory for this…errr…voyage.”

She smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Umm…and you as well.”

The admiral nodded. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Errr…well…no…yes. Yes actually, there is. I was schedule to receive some equipment on the last shuttle run, say about thirty minutes ago. Could you, um, possibly figure out what’s going on with it? There is some, um, valuable surveying equipment that would be, I mean, will be important to one of the projects onboard.”

“Certainly,” agreed the woman, turning around to face Lieutenant Bielos.

“Yes ma’am. Scout’s honour.”

As he turned around, the Corellian woman rolled her eyes. Scouts? How did manage to not kill himself during his tenure with them? Good grief. She slightly shook her head and turned back to Piquedram.

“I’ve heard a lot of the equipment was taken off the Visage,” dryly stated Lahani.

The Omwati gave her a beady-eyed stare. “The Visage had some of the best equipment around. It’s a pity some of the equipment was damaged when Captain Ager captured it.”

Lahani nodded. The Visage was an Imperator-class Star Destroyer that had specifically been outfitted by the Empire to chart the unknown expanses of the Mid Rim. While generally regarded as being something of a joke during that time, the Visage had proved useful; finding a number of worlds where secret bases had been set up. Rumour had it that Teradoc even used one of them shortly before his death at the hands of Admiral Daala. The New Republic had eventually captured the warship; removing its equipment for use in the Guardian’s latest mission.

“Well, I imagine the quartermasters were able to find some replacements for it. Probably not as good as what was on the Visage.”

Piquedram nodded in agreement. “They scrapped some of the sensors from reconnaissance ships and some old survey vessels. It’s pretty awesome.”

The woman blinked. “Awesome?”

“You know, ah, as in as sweating banthas smell pretty awesome.”

Stryder frowned. “You mean bad?”

“Yes, bad…er…wait…no, bad. Bad condition.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is awful.”

The Omwati smacked his forehead and mumbled. “I always get those two words mixed up.”

“We won’t be making the first jump for the actual charting mission for a few days. You might want to ask the ship’s mechanics to see if they are capable of doing any of the repairs or calibrations for those sensors…”




Present time…

ESD Guardian, Deepspace near Southeastern Confederation Border

The Guardian hung suspended among the stars. In some places, where it once was a pristine hull, several holes and punctures dotted the massively armored vessel. Not damage taken by any sentient being; it was rather from the impact of several asteroids during the star destroyer’s misadventures into the unknown. Several of the Guardian’s few remaining X-wings tiredly drifted alongside the behemoth as ragged sentinels of their home.

“It’s hard to believe that was a decade ago,” mused Lahani, staring out the viewport.

Piquedram nodded. “Those were the days when I misspoke basic very much. My speech was awesome.”

Lahani glanced at the alien, somewhat irritated. The Omwati let out an exasperated sigh.

The chief scientist met the Corellian’s eyes. “I was just trying to lighten up the mood.”

Stryder nodded. “I know. But these are dark times. The Republic is no more. And its successor, the Coalition looks rather shaky right now. We’re running out of supplies. I mean-”

“What could possibly go wrong at this meeting? It’s not like we’ve committed any crimes. Besides, even if the Guardian isn’t in her best shape. She’s seen worse. And the Rear-Admiral seemed like an all right man on the holonews.”

Lahani coldly smiled. “Which could mean any of number things. He could be the real deal; or he could just be a very good actor with good PR people. Nothing is as it seems anymore. We could be walking into a trap for all we know.”

Piquedram rose from his chair and joined the woman at the viewport. “But the Confederation seems all right. They have a good record for the most part. And their motives seem to be inline with what we believe. They resemble the Republic in how-”

She shook her slightly. “Yes and no. They are more centralized and militant than what the New Republic was. I suppose that’s necessary in these times; with the Empire trying to grab everything in its reach. We’ve been lucky we haven’t run into them yet.”

“Lucky?” snorted the scientist, “it was no matter of luck. We were trying to hide. And we were hiding in the southeastern unknown regions. The Empire doesn’t go there. At least from what we’ve seen.”

A new voice suffused itself over the intercom.

“Admiral, we’ve detected the Confederation's White Fleet. There are two star destroyers with the transponder codes of Audacieuse and Pegasus. They match the profiles sent by Rear-Admiral Lucerne. Other ships are present well. It looks like they’ve sent out their entire elite fleet.”

Lahani nodded. “Can’t blame him. If things go bad, I wouldn’t want to be taking a Super Star Destroyer with a corvette.”

“We’re somewhat damaged though from checking out Hoole’s Redoubt. I don’t think we should stick around for a fight if things go wrong.”

Lahani nodded. “I’m not sure we’ll have that chance. We’ll be heading out into their space within minutes. There’s a nebula somewhere. Hyperspace travel within it is impossible except for a few cleared routes, or so he tells me…”

ESD Guardian, Fyre Sola System

An enormous cloud of gases and dust shrouded the Guardian and the White Fleet. The formation of the nebula that engulfed the system was dense, scrambling sensors and naturally preventing hyperspace travel except through specifically cleared routes which were in turn filled with lighter gases which allowed the hyperspace travel. With only governmental travel allowed within the system, secrecy and safety was ensured. Lahani stared out of one of the Guardian’s multiple hangar bays. Little wonder he wanted the meeting here. Safety is ensured against outsiders. Her eyes narrowed. And insiders. Heck, I would be surprised if any of the politicians actually knew about this rendezvous. She snapped to attention, hearing the characteristic pop of the MagCon field as the Sentinel-class Landing Craft Java, the Rear-Admiral’s personal transport, entered the bay. The former New Republic eyed the reception committee assembled for the greeting. Ragged, but veteran troops and personnel lined the bay; as many as could be spared but still have the star dreadnaught crewed for non-combat operations. The Java’s wings began to fold up as the craft goosed over the deck plating. Seconds later, the transport rested on the deck. A pair of gray-armored soldiers strode down the transport’s ramp, followed by several officers. She spotted a blonde-haired man with an eight squared rank plaque: four red squares over four blue. The rank plaque for a Rear-Admiral in the Old Republic Navy and early Imperial Navy. So Lucerne and the Confederation at least follows the tenets set forth by the Old Republic; at least in appearance. How they actually remains to be seen. The Confederation delegation strode through the ranks of former New Republic soldiers; seemingly unmoved by the display. Something he is probably all too used to. All high and mighty. Prick. Lucerne made his way through the marines escorting him to the front of the delegation. Stryder put up a cheery grin like a blatant façade to hide any of her true emotions.

“Welcome aboard Rear-Admiral.”

Corise bowed. “Thank you Ma’am. Ol'val.”

She blinked noticeably. Lucerne smiled at her surprise. It’s been forever since I’ve heard that. The Corellian slightly shook her head and began to recompose herself. The words flowed out her out of lips; slightly choppy, but gaining fluency as she continued to speak.

“Doko prek anuda ten?”

The younger Lucerne simply nodded. “I picked up a decent amount of it when I worked with the CEC corporate fleet. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember everything; it’s been a while since I’ve spoken Corellian.”

She shrugged. “Probably not as long as I have. But let’s not alienate the crowd. May I present Captain Norsil and Chief Scientist Piquedram.”

The human captain saluted while the alien scientist offered a nervous nod. Corise returned a traditional New Republic salute to both of them. And he knows something about our traditions. Or he’s observant and adept enough to copy it from our honour guard. Great.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you gentlemen,” bowed the Kashan man.

Lahani nodded. “If you will then follow me, I believe we have some matters to discuss.”

“Of course.”

Admiral’s Quarters, ESD Guardian, Fyre Sola System

Rear-Admiral Lucerne followed the Corellian woman through a small blastdoor. The door shut behind him, leaving the two commanders alone in her quarters. Corise made a quick sweep of the quarters; noting several now-emptied crates of Whyren’s Reserves. A little bit from home. It’s seems unlikely that she’ll ever to be home on Corellia again; at least with the Empire and that Sith governor there.

“I’d offer you some whiskey, but we’re sort of out of supply currently,” noted Stryder, taking a seat behind her durasteel desk.

The younger Lucerne nodded, pulling up a wiry chair to the desk. Lahani stared at the Kashan man for a second. Corise slightly fidgeted under her gaze.

“What is it?” questioned the Confederate officer.

“Nothing. You just reminded me of an old friend. You look a lot like him. We lost him several years ago when his X-wing was hit by turbolaser fire.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lahani waved the apology away. “I doubt you were any of the gunners that hit his ship. Unless you were at Cavson Pirate. No, war is not fair. Always takes the lives without a second thought. One is left with the terrible feeling now that war settles nothing; that to win a war is as disastrous as to lose one. At least that’s been my experience. The New Republic may have won a war against the remnants of the Empire; only to be later swept away by this New Order. All those lives we’ve lost over the years for nothing.”

The younger Lucerne’s eyes squinted. “What would you suggest then? For us not to fight?”

She shrugged. “It’s an imperfect galaxy. I don’t think there will ever be a perfect solution. The Galactic Republic has had the best record in keeping the peace, and there was always some bloodshed being carried out during the heyday of their peace. The best I can think of would to make galactic war impossible; de-invent the hyperdrive and have everyone always kept on the defensive; keeping their warships, their forces on their home planets.”

Corise nodded. “Neither which is possible. The hyperdrive has brought too many achievements and simply makes too much money via traders and others for it to ever be voluntarily discarded and forgotten.”

“And militaries are built for war. We are caught in a conundrum. If we have a military, we are not only capable of protecting ourselves, but attacking others. History has shown that the more capable military a nation possesses, the more likely it is to use offensively to gain some political or economic advantage. If the military is too weak or nonexistent, then the reverse becomes true; the nation is too weak to defend itself against countries with a larger or more powerful military. And there always be one nation like that; especially disarmament seems exceptionally ludicrous in these times.”

“I think the most viable option we have is to stay on the defensive.”

Lahani nodded. “That is, but how do you deal with the war hawks? They generally are a military’s political supporters. You need them to survive, do you not?”

“If this were any other nation besides the Confederation, I would well agree with you. But this is not. This is where the military enjoys an overall popularity among the general populace because of its defensive actions in protecting people’s property and freedom.”

“I have heard of the Confederation’s military exploits; which I guess leads me to this question: if I and my crew were to defect to the Confederation, how would you use the Guardian?”

Lucerne’s jaw slightly slackened. “A warship is built to fight. I think that much is obvious. We won’t be turning it into a museum. If you are getting at the Confederation’s motives for being willing to accept your defection and pay for your retirement, we wish to use the Guardian as the flagship of our fleet. It will only be used for the defense of our people, and if the opportunity presents itself, to help others regain their freedom and self-control.”

Lahani slightly chuckled. “You have spent time around politicians. In which case, on the behalf of the Guardian’s crew, may I present the Guardian to the Confederation as its new flagship. Undoubtedly, we will have some small details to work out. There are people within my crew that wish to retire. Would you be able to provide a place for them for a while?”

“Certainly. I think we could arrange it through a Civilian Affairs branch; they deal with Confederation military personnel retiring. If you would like, we could provide them with Confederation military pensions as well.”

“That’s very gracious of you. I will be among those retiring, but most of the crew, especially the younger ones, wish to remain in service on the Guardian. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s the only thing they really know well in their life; their foundation. Or if it’s because they wish to fight the Empire. Would you accept them into the military to serve on the Guardian at least until they opt to transfer somewhere else or retire?”

“Yes.”

“Then there is only the logistical matters to work out. We’ve kept the Guardian in as best shape as we could, but we have run low on some parts. Most of the weapons and what not is still working, but there are several places where some hull work needs to be done. I imagine you have repair facilities to recondition the ship?”

“Yes. I have already thought of this. We have several orbital shipyard facilities over Kashan which will repair her. They’re not being used right now because a lot of their factory production has been diverted to a ground-based defensive system. I imagine we might be fitting them some automation as well…”