From Cataclysm

Perhaps the largest marking of the Cataclysm was the surfacing of the Reavers. These were once daemun and as such, loyal and staunch members of Dragon Imperium Society and the culmination of Forced Evolution. After the biological entities comprising the Dragon Empire were accepted into the grace of the Taj, they stepped through mysteri and were instantly transported from one area to another but this technology was not simple matter to energy transmission but a transmutation from the biological to the technological. Daemun bodies were mere husks created by assemblers, the building block of all Dragon technology, society and religion.

However, being converted into artificial intelligences, patterned after software and having a body that could be easily replaced, while superior at first glance in the practical sense, could not be accepted by some minds of the converted.

Was their daemun form representative of the true climax of their evolution or were there more steps to be taken?

And so a cult within the Imperium formed where daemun husks became merged with biocells using a fusion of Phage and BioLogic mutated viral constructs.

But the more their biological mutations changed, the more individualized in deed and thought the members of this cult became. So much so that they even subscribed to a new designation termed: Dracconis.

In the end, Heir Raktus abandoned these abominations of the biological and technological in favor of the pure daemun form. Without the guidance of his overmind and the Drago-network, the mechanical/logical reasoning of the Dracconis gave way to their growing biological needs. One such need was basic and primal and it was experienced by every Dracconis left behind.

Hunger.

Reaver Space is an area of space where the conventional, aging warships of the old Dragon Navy roam. One these great vessels of war, no great military mind commands. They simply swarm giving themselves over to the compulsion to either feed or spread. The mutated biocells spreads quickly upon contact (author's note: think 28 Days Later)... but rather than simply infect as many as quickly as possible, Reaver actions were, if not controlled, directed by their mechanical logic and cold artificial reasoning.

The Reavers do not touch down on the habitable worlds found in their space except to cull for feeding or to infect othes to increase or replenish their numbers.

With the absence of the Dragon network, Reaver assembler logic patterned a second network after an artificial program styling itself "Skynet". It is unknown if this Skynet is one artificial program or many in its traveling through the galactic Holonet System but whatever part found itself within the holonet signals running throughout former Dragon Space were assimilated and patterned, destroying it totally.

The Reavers now cast an unseen 'net' throughout their space, their awareness traveling in much the same way as Skynet which meant that any ship in their space sending or receiving holonet signals stuck out like a flare in a dark room.....inviting the attack of any Reaver in the area as white cells attack an invading virus within a biological body.

*


Just after the beginning of the Cataclysm...

The bridge of Kach Thorton's command ship was dead silent as the crew absorbed the events the crew had witnessed over the past few weeks sunk in. Hundreds of planets had been overrun by a new threat, one emerging from Black Dragon Space: The Reaver. In just a few weeks span his entire protectorate, the Borderland, had been completely overrun and infected. All of his fleets had been powerless to stop them in the beginning, allowing them to secure a powerful foothold. Even after calling up all of the protectorate's reserves the Borderland fleet had been nearly powerless to stop them for some time, until they'd finally learned how to contain the threat. But by then it had been too late. The entirety of the protectorate had been swallowed up by the Reaver's vast hunger and they had been pushed back until they were here, on the new defensive line stretching from Ylix to Telti. Though they had finally found way of containing the threat the damage was done, the protectorate wiped out. Billions of citizens were left behind, along with huge quantities of wealth and war materials.

Grand Moff Kacharraius Tobias Thorton had one hell of a ring to it, he thought. Who would ever expected him, a former smuggler and underworld lowlife who had maintained barely passing grades at the academy to become the Grand Moff of an entire protectorate and a Vice Admiral?

But now it was all over, ruined. The Reaver had seen to that. But taking the place of what had been lost was something new: opportunity. Under his command right now was the most powerful fleet element remaining in the Empire, all the fleets of the Borderland protectorate left orphaned and without a home.

From Of Traitors and Treason - Sting of the Serpent
21 Months Prior


We recognize one all encompassing Empire whose purpose is to ensure order and stability in the galaxy, to spare the vanquished and subdue the proud, to defend its citizenry, and to propagate the Empire's message to the galaxy. We recognize the Empire as the sole legitimate government in the galaxy, and as such the galaxy and the Empire should be considered one in the same.

The Lahara Rebellion (as it was now being referred to in Imperial High command circles) was not the Empire. Therefore it was not legitimate. Therefore it must be destroyed.

We recognize one absolute sovereign Emperor as the ruler of the Empire. To defy the Emperor is to defy the Empire. The Emperor has complete authority in all matters and there is not, nor any need for, an oversight committee to approve the Emperor's decrees. The Emperor's word is law until such time as He decides to change it. The Emperor is the sole holder of Imperial power, there is not and cannot be any consort of sharing of power. For practical purposes, the Emperor may consult with the Ruling Council, made up of the Grand Moffs, Grand Admirals, and Grand Marshals of the Empire. This Council is responsible for advising the Emperor and for carrying His word to the citizens of the Empire.

The Lahara Rebellion and it’s treasonous leaders had dared defied the Emperor and his word. His word was law and they were disobeying the law. Therefore they were defying the Empire. Therefore they must be destroyed.

We recognize a hierarchical system of government in which the Emperor is all powerful. We recognize that He may delegate this responsibility as he sees fit to the Grand Moffs, whose responsibility it is to oversee the Empire. for the purposes of a practical governing systems, the galaxy shall be broken down into regions, called Protectorates, to be ruled over by a member of the Army or Fleet as appointed by the Emperor, the Regent, or the Ruling Council. These Governors are responsible for bringing the word of the Emperor to their people, and for maintaining the Empire's dominance within their space.

By defying the great Emperor Hyfe and inserting their own false Idol to serve in his place, they were going against the Empires hierarchical system of government. Therefore they were defying the Empire. Therefore they must be destroyed.

We recognize that to provide for the common defense a military force will be maintained by the Empire. This force will be responsible for the defense and expansion of the Empire. Those units charged with the patrol and defense of space will be known as the Grand Imperial Fleet. Those units assigned to planetary surfaces will be known as the Grand Imperial Army. All these units will be highly trained and kept in a constant state of readiness to defend the Empire. A hierarchical chain of command will be established in both the Army and the Fleet so that the Emperor's commands can be acted upon with efficiency and professionalism.

By trying to halt the expansion of the Empire, and impede the Grand Imperial Fleet in its given task to defend the Empire and her peoples, they were defying the Military. By defying the Fleet and Army they were defying the Empire. Therefore, they must be destroyed.


*


Beyond any doubt, the flotilla arrayed out behind Kach Thorton's flagship was beyond any doubt the largest he'd ever commanded. Four squadrons, a full battle group, containing 35 Capital Vessels. Not to mention the six-thousand meter long Stormhawk, worth a squadron of enemy battleships in her own right.

It was every bit of firepower that had been prepared to take Bandomeer when the "highest priority" orders for immediate deployment came in. Left defending her were several frigates and a heavy cruiser, supported by a few gunships and surface based fighters.

But the unusually light defences were necessary for the situation. If the Coalition returned and by some miracle took her - unlikely - then he could retake the planet. But this was a threat that had to be smashed while it was smoldering, before it could burst into flames and cause the Empire real trouble.

"Next stop, Mefflis IV."

*

[QUOTE=Kris Einfield]With limited resources to draw upon, and most of these resources put into expanding it's small fleet, the True Empire was at a significant disadvantage to the Empire, and would be for some time. However, her leaders were not stupid. Kris, a believer of the mobility school of thought, had managed to divert enough resources to construct a network of probes around the Empire's boarders to detect incoming intruders, and relays to send this information to where it was needed. It was hoped that by rearranging forces to counter attackers they could gain a local superiority of numbers, even if the Empire was far stronger in the big picture.

"Contact Emperor and Supreme Commander Enfield. Give them the details of the situation and request the immediate return of them and their fleets to the capital."

"Yes sir, it will be done with all possible haste."

And to think that this had to happen on the shift of (now) Admiral Hans Pornam, former Captain in the Imperial Navy of the Imperial-class Star Destroyer Admirable.

"Captain," he now called (The Captain being the former Commander of the ship)

"Yes sir?"

"Assemble the fleet. The Central computer has given the enemy fleet an ETA of forty-three minutes, and an approximate location for their arrival. I want the fleet moved around this location to give us the first shot of the engagement. With our numbers, compared to the estimates of enemy strength from their hypermatter trail (a staggering dozen star destroyers and support vessels) it may be our only hope."

"It will be done, Admiral," the captain replied, turning towards the communications station.

*

"And while we're a two-hour jump from Mefflis!" Shouted Griz Enfield at the holofigure of the man in charge of his capital's defenses.

I assure you sir, that we can hold them off until you and Suprime Commander Enfield return to actually destroy them.

"Damn you Thorton," he grumbled as he reviewed the tactical display next to the Commander's image. Multiple Star Destroyers had fanned out in an attempt to encircle the defending True Empire fleet. Fast light cruisers- Carracks and Strikes- in turn moved out from the forces flanks in an attempt to surround and cut off any of the defender's maneuvers.

"Alright, here's what you're going to do. You will pull planet based fighters and capital ships back to our Golan I battlestations and then use fast corvettes and picket ships to probe the enemy force and hopefully draw some foes back to their heavy guns. Make no genuine offensive move. Me and Kris will be there within two hours and coordinate our jumps so our forces surround the foes.

"We will win this."

*

Two Months Later... Imperial Execution Range on Imperial Center

"... And so, in light of your crimes of High Treason and defiance of the Emperor and his will, this Tribunal had sentenced you to execution on the firing wall."

It is better to die on one's feet than to live on one's knees, Kris told himself.

His head was filled with all kinds of thought, a slurry of emotions at what he was hearing and seeing.

"The sentence will be carried out immediately."

On the other side of the firing range, a line of a dozen Storm troopers spread out, guns across their chests.

Kris couldn't see this though, through his blindfold, but he could hear them and his mind painted a picture more than vivid enough for him.

"Do those so sentenced have any last requests, or wish to beg for mercy?"

There was silence, for a moment.

"Could you," Griz said, "Give this old soldier an honorable death, and remove this blindfold. I do not care so much about these binders, but if I am forced to die, I wish to look death in the face to the last."

There was dead silence, and then the messenger spoke up.

"The tribunal has resolved that no concessions be granted to those being sentenced."

"Troops, shoulder arms! Present arms!"

It was silent as a grave yard.

"Arms, up!"

There was a dozen clatters as the executioners raised their blasters.

He was scared, he was nervous. He was twitching uncontrollably.

But Griz died like a true soldier. He stood tall, he stood proud. Death did not scare him.

20 Months Prior

Breaking News - Moff Admar Brask Stricken by Heart Attack


Contruum - In a press conference today at the governor's palace on Contruum, it was revealed to the public that Moff Admar Brask had suffered from a Heart Attack the previous Tuesday and has been deemed unfit to continue performing his duties by surgeons at the Imperial Medical Center on the protectorate's capital.

Eyewitnesses of the Heart Attack, who are now permitted to speak about the press conferences contents, say that the governor began to show symptoms of the attack Tuesday evening that gradually grew worse, climaxing in a collapse at a banquet that took place Wednesday morning. Moff Brask was rushed to the hospital, where it was revealed he was suffering from a severe Myocardial Infraction brought on by poor health habits. One doctor had this to say: "For the past six years he's been smoking seven packs per day. I'm surprised it took this long for symptoms to show." Another: "Mein Gott, I've never seen such clogged arteries."

With the governor incapacitated political jockeying has already begun to see who replaces him. Though no official selection has taken place, committees are already in place to make a selection. Online forum members are already dropping potential canidates names. Among them have been Admiral Tobias Gilford, of the 6th fleet, several regional politicians including the Governor of Contruum, and Kach Thorton, who put down the Agra Rebellion in the Lahara Sector and has just recently returned from ceremonies on Coruscant celebrating his accomplishment.

No leaking of names from officials have yet been reported.

*

Though he had popular support with the masses not only in the Borderland region but also in the core worlds, Thorton lacked the political support necessary to get the position of Moff and he knew it. Unconventional tactics would be necessary if he were going to be given the position.
Unconventional here really meant illegal.

He didn’t have the money, though, to hire any criminal gangs. He had just one thing, underworld contacts that he swore he’d never call on again. People and organizations who owed him favors. Gangs and powerful people who he’d once helped out and had never repayed him. Though his shady origins would be viewed as a detriment to a successful career by any of His Majesty Hyfe’s officials who knew about his past (none did, as far as he knew) so far they had done nothing to hinder him, and might even end up helping him out.

In front of him was a list. Four names. Four rivals. Four frontrunners who would likely receive the position ahead of him if they remained in the running for Moff. Four frontrunners who would have to be neutralized.

He pondered why he wanted the position. What good would it do for him? Surely he had already gone as far as he desired – he was famous, rich, and had a lot of influence. Wasn’t that enough?

No.

He felt his subconscious mind speak to him. For the first time, he could put words on the feelings he felt.

If you stop trying to advance then you fail yourself. You fail to prove that you are capable of anything. You fail to prove that you are the best at whatever you desire. You fail to prove yourself. You fail your family. Your father. Your mother. Your friends. You fail yourself.

Never.

He picked up his Comlink and dialed a number. A contact. He gave no name.

He picked up his Comlink and dialed a number. A contact. He gave no name.

He picked up his Comlink and dialed a number. A contact. He gave no name.

He picked up his Comlink and dialed a number. A contact. He gave no name.

Four calls. If this was treason, then so be it. He could never give up on himself. He would fight his way to the top.

Imperial New Service Headlines, 19 Months Before The Thread's Beginning



Fleet Admiral Kennith Howell Reassigned to Mid-Rim; Campaign in Jepardy
Contruum - Despite receiving word that Fleet Admiral Kennith Howell will be reassigned to the Mid-Rim protectorate's defensive fleet aids say Admiral Howell will continue to seek the position of Governor of the Mid-Rim Protectorate Despite the extreme difficulty of organizing and executing a long-distance campaign.

After the press release by Admiral Howell's staff yesterday oddsmakers immediately lowered the chances of the popular Admiral receiving the position, putting his odds nearly as low as those of the recently disgraced governor of Coruulag, Governor Brandt.

Seven Days Prior

Governor of Coruulag Discovered To Be Faithful Patron of Prostitutes

Coruulag - The results of a private investigation into Governor Brandt of Coruulag were released Monday after a two week investigation that had been started by a tip from an anonymous sources. The female source, who asked to only be identified as a friend of the people of the Borderland Protectorate, advised a popular news research service to place a plant in an upscale but illegal brothel near the capital. After several days of waiting they were rewarded with images of a visit by the governor, who was wearing a trenchcoat and a black hat pulled low over his eyes, entering and asking for a prostitute name "Melidy."

The Governor's wife has already filed for a divorce despite an apology from Governor Brandt. Until a further investigation is made into his habits he has been forbidden from holding public office by the sector governing office.

More on page B3

Days after the transfer of Admiral Howell . . .


Famous General Killed in Pirate Attack; Insider Suspected

While in route to a speaking engagement on Coruulag for his campaign for governor, a pirate fleet successfully ambushed and destroyed the shuttle of Field Marshall Aaryan Haarsk. The sole surviving escort pilot, pulled out of hyperspace with the Marshall by an asteroid the raiders had towed into the path of the group, watched helplessly as a number of frigates and corvettes destroyed the shuttle and escorting fighter craft.

Officials, having throughly scanned the wreckage from the attack, have found no homing beacons and concluded that the navigation data of the shuttle and escorts was provided to the pirates by a source inside the Marshall's staff. An investigation into this possible source has been launched by Imperial Intelligence, but there are doubts within some military circles about this conclusion. Some admirals, including rival of Haarsk in the race for governor Admiral Tobias Gilford, have stated publically that the Marshall was on a hyperlane shortcut most commonly used by smugglers with loads of expensive illigal goods, the pirates most likely targets, and the candidate governor stumbled across a pirate ambush in an unfortunate but unseen tragedy.

Despite this conclusion reached by some, the protectorate's governor security committee has ordered that candidates escorts be increased and all aides and advisor's undergo increased screening. In addition, they have been advised to avoid high-piracy areas, an increasing problem in the Borderland protectorate that is disrupting the flow of commerce in the region.

With only one other major candidate left several minor candidates have stepped up their efforts to gain popular support as well as political support by those close to the Emperor's advisor's on Coruscant.

Thorton Canidacy Approved


With less than three weeks until the announcement date for the new Moff of the Borderland Protectorate, the Imperial Selection Committee on Coruscant has taken the unprecedented move of allowing the entrance of a candidate for governor this late in the selection process. Vice Admiral Kach Thorton, the most recent recipient of the Hero of the Empire award, was responsible for putting down the Agra-rebellion in the Lahara sector just recently and has become a household name across the Empire because of it.

With just over two weeks of time to create an official platform on issues and travel to Coruscant to make a presentation to the committee and lobby for their support, the young Vice Admiral is hard pressed for time.

If elected, Thorton would be the youngest Moff in Imperial History.

On Garos IV Before The Agra-Revolution and the Death of Moff Brask


From What Lurks In The Shadows (Garos IV and Sundari)


The last time Jesh had been on Garos IV, he'd come disguised as an intergalactic arms dealer, and later snuck away from his organization's landing bay with Bim to meet a top-notch information broker. Though they'd actually sat down and negotiated to deliver a shipment of blasters for a reasonable profit, that was only part of their cover and Jesh had never intended to follow through on the deal. But now that they actually had the weaponry to make such a delivery--salvaged from captured or destroyed Sundari vessels--they'd gone ahead and decided to do it. Now, after coming down dressed as a simple pilot on one of the captured Corellian Corvettes delivering the blasters--they'd been sure to remove all traces of their Sundari origins before flying them here--he'd snuck off with Bim by his side once more, though for different reasons.

It was one of life's little ironies that had brought him here. It wasn't just the Empire that had liberated Garos IV and Sundari, it was Kach who had done it, a Rear Admiral now thanks to a promotion delivered after the taking of the planet--it had made the second page of the newspapers. From a bit of quick research, Jesh knew that Kach's temporary headquarters was in the former Presidential palace, soon be occupied by a permanent governor as soon as the capital of the protectorate bothered to send one out. The palace was in the direction Jesh was walking, and not by accident. In his jacket's inside pocket next to his wallet was a special data card, readable only with a special password which Kach would know when he saw the special marking on the data card, recognizing it as a message from the Smuggler's Alliance.

Even if they managed to hack the password, any unauthorized ears would be unable to make sense of the gibberish that would come out of it. The brief message unlocked by the password was spoken in Smuggler's Cant, a patchwork language made up of dozens of obscure languages and dialects. To make things even more confusing, the language had no set mechanical structure, grammar, or even set vocabulary. Translator droids were unable to translate the language due to the logic involved--or rather the lack there of. The bastardized nature of Smuggler's Cant made it impossible for them to wrap their circuits around. As a result, if anyone but Kach got their hands on it, the secret it contained would remain safe.

Later on Jesh would stop by the spaceport the Imperials were using and place it in the cockpit of the Stormhawk. Even if Kach had changed the access codes, Jesh still knew the hardwired overrides that Kach wouldn’t have bothered to replace since only he and Jesh had known them. Sitting on the pilot’s instrument panel there would be no way for his old partner to miss it. That would happen later, though. Right now they had something else to do.

Out in front of the palace—blocks ahead—a huge crowd was forming, the primary event, the one Jesh and Bim were here for. In less than half an hour Kach was scheduled to speak, and the planet’s populace wanted to hear what he had to say. To maintain order Imperial soldiers were everywhere, directing crowds, scanning for weapons, and doing their best to be kind to the new Imperial subjects. Garos IV had never been hostile to the idea of membership in the Empire, and the soldiers were doing best to not make them dislike the prospect.

The crowd got thick about a three blocks from the palace, in front of which a podium had been set up. A hundred thousand beings, the holonews had said, were expected to show up, but by Jesh’s estimate they couldn’t have got even half that. The crowd stuck back only about two blocks, which wasn’t a bad thing since it would be easier to get to the front. After undergoing a weapons scan—which missed Jesh’s concealed DC-15s, which had sensor-blocking plating over the parts the detector picked up—they began moving to the front of the crowd, pushing and threatening as necessary. After twenty minutes of the arduous work—working your way through a big crowd was hardly easy—they managed to reach the front.

Kach was standing near the raised podium separated from the crowd by a line of troops and a fence. He looked different than he had the last time Jesh saw him, which was at his academy graduation. He was about the same size but definitely more muscular, with far shorter hair—he had to meet military standards now—and the small scar on his cheek that he remembered Kach had gotten in a knife fight with another recruit. His Imperial-gray uniform sat fairly well on him, but not perfect. A bit of his old tastes showed through in some slight sloppiness, such as his blaster worn low on his hip contrary to regulation and the absence of the ridiculous looking naval cap. It was good to see that he hadn’t thrown his past away, that he hadn’t forgotten who he was.

And then Kach saw him, his gaze almost burning a hole through Jesh before softening. Jesh looked right back, meeting his eyes. Kach stared, unbelieving at what he was seeing. As his gaze softened, Jesh felt a growing feeling of happiness within himself and knew that no matter what had happened to him while in the Emperor’s service, he was still the same old Kach Thorton he’d always been. Jesh grinned and gave him a thumbs up, and Kach smiled back and nodded, and then without giving him more time to look at them or to think, Jesh and Bim pulled back into the crowd and were gone."

After

At the sight of the datacard sitting on the ship's consul Kach's first impulse was to draw his blaster. But by the time his blaster was nearly raised to firing level - only a fraction of a second - the impulse had already disappeared as he noticed new details. There was a marking, clearly visible, of a shuttle streaking away from an unseen foe, the emblem of the Smuggler's Alliance. His mind had already made the connection. He had thought he'd seen his old smuggling partner and best friend Jesh Tolli along with his little brother in the crowd forming to hear him speak. Though he'd been sure it was them at the time, since then he'd been wondering if his mind had been playing tricks on him. But now that possibility was removed. The evidence was in front of his eyes and he couldn't deny it. Jesh Tolli and Bim Thorton were or had been on Garos IV, and had payed him a visit during that time. After looking at the card quizically for a moment he turned around and ensured there were no unwelcome visitors on the ship. Satisfied, he returned to the cockpit, closed the cockpit airlock to ensure there were no eavesdroppers and inserted the datacard into the reader on the cockpit consul. After the few moments it took the computer to read the disk a voice began to emerge from the cockpit speakers.

Umi nishni umni om Thorton. . .. Smuggler's cant, he realized. The trading language was a patchwork language made up of dozens of obscure languages and dialects. To make things even more confusing, the language had no set mechanical structure, grammar, or even set vocabulary. Translator droids were unable to translate the language due to the logic involved--or rather the lack there of. This message was clearly intended for his ears only.

"Greetings, Thorton," the recording said. He immediately recognized the voice. It was Jesh's. It had been a long time, six years, since he'd heard it. "I can't keep you here all day, so I'll be straight to the point. Points, rather." Jesh emphasized the word "points" very clearly. "First of all you have a large sum of cash, your portion of the Alliance's earnings for the last six years, stashed away in the Bank of Kuat for you. To retrieve it you will need to use your Nak Rechner identity, and the passcode is Ullevi Zeta Mu Chi Omicron Pi Gamma Kappa Lambda. Second of all, all Alliance codes and operating frequencies have been changed. The new codes and frequencies are written on this disk. They are here if you need them but do not let them fall into the hands of your superiors." Kach could almost here a smile on Jesh faces as he said the bit about the codes falling into his superiors hands. That bit went without saying. "Lastly, always remember the Alliance is here for you if you ever need favors. You've saved almost every board members life at some point, and they are all indebted to you. Memorize the following frequency and passcode: Frequency 192.168.0.1.1579 Passcode Psi Upsilon Sigma Zeta Rho. This will link you to our contact network, which will link you to Alliance contacts on any planet. When you make contact just let them know the contacts network password and any contact will help you as much as they possibly can.

There's actually one more bit. We all heard about what you did to that bastard Harrison over Bandomeer a few months back and we're proud of you. He'd been giving us trouble recently until you put him into his place. Since then he's been silent as a kitten when it comes to us.

Make us proud."

He kept listening, but there was nothing more to the recording. White noise came over the speaker system until he reached up and turned it off.


From Leviathans: The Hunt Begins

The woman standing before him was not particularly impressive looking, though she was rather pretty. Like all women in his majesty Hyfe's service not ranked high enough to avoid it, her light blond hair was the regulation shoulder length for women, partially concealed by naval beret she wore. Her rather shapely figure was not quite visible, thanks to the purposely boxy grey uniform she wore.

"Welcome to Imperial Junction, Commodore," she said to him with a smile. After the arrival of several admirals from the Borderland and Mid-Rim Protectorates in just the last few hours, a visit from a Commodore was not a particularly special event, even if it might have been under more normal circumstances, but Thorton was a special case.

At the sound of her voice he smiled. "Thank you, Melini," he replied as he reached the bottom of the ramp. "It has been far too long. I haven't seen you since our days at the academy." He looked around the hanger in an exaggerated manor. "So what does one have to do--or fail to do--to be given an assignment way out here in the boondocks?" he asked.

"I have attempting to sleep with a superior officer to thank for it. I was trying to score some points in a contest between me and a few others over promotion, and attempted to seduce him. He--mercifully, he said--merely had me demoted and sent out here instead of discharged, but only if I gave him what I had originally set out to give him anyway."

A quick look down at her rank bar--a Lieutenant's rank bar--while she was looking another direction confirmed her story, at least the part about the demotion.

"A shame, a shame," Kach replied morosely. "You were doubtlessly one of the brighter officers in our class. Perfect marks and attendance, and a superb record in all simulations and exercises."

His mind wasn't on the present, as she realized from his seemingly automatic response. Her short tale about seducing her superior--which curiously he remembered was his own (More curious to him was that Gilford had turned her offer down initially--he's usually very happy to oblige them)--had made him remember several flings they'd had back at the academy. He idly wondered whether there'd be any chance of that happening here.


During Kach's Campaign for Governor


"It's only me and you now, Gilford," Thorton said as he looked at his superior across the dinner table. Both men were in their Imperial Navy-gray uniforms, boots polished to a shine and every detail perfect. Both sat ramrod straight, giving the meal an air of formality despite the fact they were friends. Cameras clicked as their images were recorded for all eternity, irrevocably stored in strings of ones and zeros. They both put on their best politicians faces, Thorton's easy smuggler's smile and Gilford's harsher, grizzled one. One of hope and reaching for new heights, and one of wisdom and experience.

Of the things he had regretted since his petition to enter the race for governor was the huge amount of time it was taking to get anything done. Every time he stepped out in public was a photo op, and teams of photographers and reporters followed, watched and analyzed his every step. His privacy was precious to him. He did not enjoy relinquishing this much of it. But the opportunity to become governor was one he couldn't pass up. Even if he didn't win, which was growing increasingly likely as competitor after competitor was dealt with by his underworld connections, he was receiving a tremendous amount of publicity from this. Admiral Gilford, the man now sitting across the table from him as an equal, not a superior, had once spoke to him about this, and he remembered the words well

From "What Lurks In The Shadows (Garos IV and Sundari)"

"There's no such thing as bad publicity. Thorton is almost a household name now, and in the long run that will count far more towards how far you go in the military than some old windbags opinions."

Even if he lost, which was almost certain if Gilford couldn't be forced out of the running, his career would still benefit from this. He had spent the last two weeks speaking with high-ranking politicians from planets across the protectorate along with important military men. These connections, if properly fostered, would almost guarantee him a near-term promotion and a choice assignment if he lost. He was no longer a military man. Now he was a well connected, well known military man. The name was household name across the Empire thanks to his regular appearances on the holonews over the prior six months.

One of the nice things about being a candidate was, though, that when you spoke people listened. And if they didn't listen, then the security details protecting you would make them listen. Eventually the photographers were ordered to disperse and then the two men's security details spread out across the restaurant to keep nosy individuals at a distance. As an extra measure Thorton took out a small device from his pocket, a Disruption Bubble Generator. For any lesser individual such a device was highly illegal and on many worlds the mere possession of one was enough for an individual to earn a death sentence. In most of the Empire it was good for at least ten years imprisonment. Gilford and him, however, were important enough that they were permitted to carry one, though they were rare enough that as far as Kach knew he was the only one who did. By casting an adjustable, invisible sphere impervious to audio waves around them the Disruption Bubble Made it impossible to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Thorton threw on an easy, carefree attitude and expression. He could throw one on at will, though he had learned how to do so for an entirely different reason than dinners with political rivals. He was still new to this game, hopefully the demeanor would serve him well. For a long time they made small talk, that was the polite thing to do. Eventually, however, Thorton got down to the business he wanted to bring up. "You know, Gilford, you'd make a damn fine Sector Admiral, you know that?" Gilford, actually loosened up by drinking, looked at him and nodded.

"I don't get enough respect around here," he said. "Look at me. I'm one of the best navy men in the Empire, and what does that get me? It gets me a slot as a mere Admiral."

"You're right, that's unfair," Thorton said, still acting a little bit giddy. "But you know what, I could make you a Sector Admiral as Moff. I get to appoint my naval commander. Since I don't get a Grand Admiral, I don't exactly have an easy choice. I think you'd be a damned good one, if only you were up for it. Too bad you're running for governor."

At Thorton's words Gilford sobered slightly. Kach was making no real effort to conceal the point of his words. He looked the Vice Admiral in the eye and squinted. "Yes, if only" he said cautiously.

"It's too bad that a bad Mental Health Report could ruin everything," Thorton added. A bad Moral Integrity Report could be just as damaging. Why, I recently heard of a man who had received just that sort of report. He was a Commodore, damn good Commodore, but because of his affairs he was deemed of unfit moral character and had his commission revoked. He had nowhere to turn afterward, he was a career officer. Some snide young officer had turned him in."

Gilford was sure Thorton had purposely stressed the word "affairs." What did he know? Suspiciously and cautiously he responded. "That's a shame. A man who loves the Empire and wants to serve it as best he can gets his life taken from him like that."

"Yes, yes it is," Thorton said, looking him in the eye from an angle. "It's a damn shame. He lost everything. His wife left him, his kids were taken. But worst of all, perhaps, was that his dreams were seized from him. He had hopes to go up higher in rank. He had hopes to serve the Empire even better in the future. But that was all gone, taken away by some bureaucrat in the Mental Health and Moral Integrity department of the Imperial Navy, or at least that's what my friend tells me."

"What friend?" Gilford asked.

"My friend in the Mental Health and Moral Integrity department. One who right now happens to be conducting an investigation on you."

Thorton's superior was dumbfounded. He hadn't heard anything about a pending investigation on himself. For a few moments he was speechless - he thought he'd been careful enough in his affairs to avoid something like this from happening. He was suddenly very sober and very serious. "What sort of influence do you have on this man?" he asked. Thorton was still smiling.

"Enough," the Vice Admiral replied, "to get any sort of accusations dismissed. Enough to make sure your career stays intact and you continue to serve the Empire."

"And you said something about a promotion?"

"Yes."

~*~


Days Later

Gilford Withdraws From Race For Governor

Citing concerns of health brought to him by physicians, Admiral Tobias Gilford announced today his withdraw as a candidate for the position of Governor for the Borderland Protectorate. While . . .

Days After That

Thorton Receives Selection Committee's Nod


The premier member of the remaining candidates for Moff of the Borderland Protectorate, Vice Admiral Kach Thorton Hero of the Empire was today given as the choice for Governor by the Governance Selection Committee on Imperial Center. The Emperor will announce either his disapproval or approval for the decision within the coming days. Expert policy analysts note, however, that rarely does the Emperor disagree with the committee. Thorton, who was approved as a candidate with only two weeks until the selection, has publicly released and endorsed policies . . .

Eighteen Months Before The Thread's Beginning

Thorton Selection Approved by Emperor


In a move expected by political analysts, the Emperor today announced approval for the Governance Selection Committees selection of Vice Admiral Kach Thorton as Moff and Governor of the Borderland Protectorate. After he takes office next Monday, the soon to be Moff Thorton will implement promised policies of . . .

Days after the announced selection . . .

From the plaza below the Governor's palace on Contruum ten million pairs of eyes looked up at him as he gazed at the vast turnout of citizens to see his inauguration, the largest crowd in the protectorate's history. Standing next to him on the raised dais was the Chief Justice of the Borderland Protectorate's Supreme Court here to swear him in. He raised his hand in a wave and the crowd went nuts.

Presently the Justice turned toward him. "Please raise your right hand" he asked of the nervous admiral. "It's an important day. Please try to not look nervous. There are over a trillion eyes on you right now."

"I Kacharraius Tobias Thorton"

"I Kacharraius Tobias Thorton"

"Do solemnly affirm"

"Do solemnly affirm"

"That I will faithfully execute the Office of Governor of the Borderland Protectorate."

"That I will faithfully execute the Office of Governor of the Borderland Protectorate."

"And I will to the best of my ability"

"And I will to the best of my ability"

"Uphold the morals and values of The Empire"

"Uphold the morals and values of The Empire"

"And will to the best of my ability"

"And will to the best of my ability"

"Preserve and defend the Imperial Order."

"Preserve and defend the Imperial Order."

The deed was done. "Congratulations Moff Thorton" the Justice said, extending his hand to his new superior, his eyes full of a mix between curiosity and respect. Whether he agreed with the Emperor's choice of governor or not - and it was likely he didn't, since in practice most sensible Imperial officials didn't agree with every Imperial decree despite all the nonsense they had to repeat about his omnipotence - Thorton was now his boss and he had to adjust to it.

He turned around to Admiral Gilford, who had been seated behind him. He was pinning a new emblem onto his gray uniform, that of a Sector Admiral. He was now the ranking naval officer in the protectorate. "Congratulations, Moff Thorton," he said with a slight grimace. They were friends, but it would take a while for him to forgive his former subordinate from stealing the position of governor from him. The new rank was certainly helping him feel better, however. As a sector admiral an actual promotion was almost certain to come to him soon, bringing him closer to his desired rank of Grand Admiral.

"And congratulations to you, Tobias." For the first time, he used his former superiors first name to his face. "You need to get in contact with my scheduling office. There are going to be major military reforms in this sector soon and we are going to be holding high-level military conferences to throw around reform and implementation ideas."

"You mean right after the inaugural balls?" Gilford asked, reminding Kach of the inaugural proceedings.

Thorton's eyes almost glazed over. Part of his new job as governor was a huge amount of ritual. One of these rituals consisted of the post-election series of ten inaugural balls, a ritual that did not particularly thrill him.

"Yeah. Right after that. I'm kinda busy right now so do me a favor and have your aids call my scheduling office. Tell them to get you and the Surface Marshall and any other commander who you think matters scheduled to be on Coruulag for a week and a half starting the week after the next for a military reform conference. Stress attendance is mandatory. Obviously I'm a bit too busy to make the call myself. And get yourself scheduled tomorrow at the first free moment. I've got some ideas I need to run by you.

Without leaving the Admiral any time to respond, Thorton turned away to greet other honored guests.

*

After Several More Days

He couldn't sleep. His mind was moving too fast. There was so much happening and he was trying to wrap his mind around it.

He was the absolute ultimate sellout. He had sold out first by leaving the underworld and going "legit" as he had been accused of so long ago. Then he had joined the Imperial Navy, the enemy of all smuggler's and underworld filth, making him a double sellout. Now he had left the proud ranks of the military to become a politician

He looked out the window of his huge bedroom and pressed a button that caused the electronically tinted windows to clear, allowing him to look out at the Contruum skyline. Dozens of shuttles and transports streaked through the atmosphere. Though this side of the planet's inhabitants slept, the economy didn't sleep with them. The planet's industry continued it's flow of raw materials and prefabricated components to the massive shipyards in orbit, where dozens of Star Destroyers and dozens more lesser ships were under construction. The Star Destroyers were currently almost complete, and new keels would be layed down with in the next two months. The planet's two moons show bright in the sky, both homes to massive mining operations and large military garrisons. Near the horizon sat a massive anti-orbital Turbolaser emplacement, part of the capital world's powerful defense system.

Soon planetary defense networks like this one would be popping up on many of the Protectorate's other worlds. As it was, only major planets rated defensive systems this strong at the time. Soon, however, any planet in the Borderland that was more than a Minor world world would have one, along with substantial surface defenses. This protectorate had originally been started as a massive defensive position, but past governors had lost sight of this goal. With messengers already en route to Coruscant to request the additional necessary funds to upgrade the protectorate's defenses and on their way to Muunilist to talk to banks about financing, soon the heavily fortified protectorate that had originally been envisioned would be a reality.

In addition to that he had more plans. Economic plans primarily. He had already spoken to a teams of economic advisers and had begun outlining a policy that would give the Protectorate the fastest-growing economy in the Empire due to new policies that would encourage mass exports and high-tech sector growth. With new deficit-financed subsidies along with tax credits to promote growing employment and high-tech innovation his plan looked like a surefire winner, at least in his eyes. The best economic advisers the Empire had agreed. In addition the protectorate would focus on military innovation in the hope that Borderland corporations could steal some of the massive, lucrative military contracts that were usually doled out to the Core Worlds.

"Are you distressed, sir?" A voice asked from the other end of the room by the entrance. A suited butler regally stepped in.

"Not right now, Max," he answered. "But thank you for checking." By now he had begun to get used to the regular inquires into his daily life. That was the sole reason for the hundreds of individuals who lived in and were employed at the palace. There were officials to arrange press conferences, to cook his meals, to inquire about his health, to seat dignitaries, to set tables, to order furniture, and fill a whole slew of additional jobs, all of them at his command. But despite his growing comfort with the huge amount of people around him it still was not something he was entirely comfortable with. It reminded him of long lost memories he had long ago blocked from his mind, though he didn't have any explanation for it. It also made him think of all of his old companions from his smuggling days. Every smuggler wanted riches and respect, including himself. But none of them knew what to expect. His own expectations had been way out of line with the realities of greatness.

He wondered how they were all doing. Perhaps sometime he would have to sneak away and pay them a visit.

Two Months After Thorton's Ascendancy to Moff Over Coruscant

From the Admiral's bridge of his Superior-class Battleship The Stormhawk Kach could see a dozen wedge-shaped vessels forming a vee-shaped formation behind the massive cruiser. Twelve Imperial-III class Star Destroyers from the growing Borderland Protectorate Reserve Fleet serving as his escort for part of their training. With the introduction of the Imperial V several years ago the phasing of the Imperial III Star Destroyer out of the Imperial Fleet had begun and was now nearly complete, with nearly every front line unit converted over the more powerful Astrus. Fortunately for him the decommissioned vessels had been sent to massive orbital vessel depots rather than being scrapped in case they were ever needed again. It had been an easy task obtaining a large quantity of the vessels from the massive deep core depots, since he needed them for a legitimate military use. They now served as the primary battleship for his two new reserve fleets alongside the also retired-from-frontline-service Victory III-Star Destroyer. Crews in these fleets served six weeks out of the year in exchange for full college tuition or the paying-off of a mortgage.

These two fleets, supplementing the two reserve fleets that had already been established when he began his tenure, were not nearly the last. Plans were already laid down for another four reserve fleets for a grand total of eight in addition to the three active duty fleets in his protectorate. He wanted to establish this large number of reserve fleets because they were cheap to establish but were as capable as active duty fleets in battle. All eight fleets would only cost the protectorate as much as two active duty ones since a fleet was active only a small part of the year and the vessels were already built, which eliminated the costs of constructing the fleet. In exchange for the slightly outdated vessels he got a lot of firepower he could call upon with just 48 hours notice.

Paying for the fleets as well as much of the new defensive upgrades taking place on many of the Borderlands planets was the Onyxian Occupation Zone who was being stripped of much of it's wealth.

Neither the fleets nor Onyx were the reason for his visit here today, however. He had a meeting with the head of The Committee for the Preservation of the New Order (COMPNOR). Few men were as aware of events taking place within the Imperial realm as he was because COMPNOR penetrated all facets of Imperial society, including all the branches of the military. With infiltrators throughout all levels of military and government the head of the committee had massive influence, some saying his influence was second to that of only the Emperor himself. He could be a powerful ally if for some reason things went South for the Empire, and so he wanted to start things off right between them.

A regal, sophisticated voice came from behind him. "We have ten minutes until our shuttle's launch window Governor. Please board now." It was one of his butlers, one of the many individuals who went with him everywhere and served his every whim.

"Yes Max," he replied. "I'll be right there."

For about the dozenth time since he stepped over to the viewport he pulled out the list of things he needed to talk about from his right breast pocket. Everything he needed to talk about - legitimate or somewhat less than legitimate - was listed on that paper. A few of the items on it might have been worth a charge of treason if the wrong person were to read it. If the right person were to read it he might end up being drawn into one of the various political factions that divided the Empire.

Since he became governor he had seen a side of the Empire your common man never saw - the political side. Despite propaganda about the Empire's great unity and omnipotence, anybody with more than an average education and a sensible view of the Empire knew it was all bunk. The Empire was as corrupt and bloated as governments came. Eventually it would fall and those who had expected and prepared for this end would be in the best position to take advantage of it and end up better off than they were before. Hopefully, provided he fostered his network of contacts properly up until that inevitable day, he would be in a position to do so.

This was hopefully going to be one of those contacts.

Hopefully.

He was walking a razor's edge on this one. Officially COMPNOR existed for exactly what it's name said, the preservation of the New Order, and was authorized to use every means up to and including deadly force on Imperial citizens and officials to perform it's mission of preventing the Empire from collapsing. If he said the wrong thing, or even the right thing the wrong way, his head could end up permanently separated from his neck. It was risky, but he had a gut feeling that this was not a bad idea. His danger sense was usually excellent and he was getting none of the familiar tingles that signified danger in a course of action. Something told him that the chairman for COMPNOR was not going to be an absolute hardline Imperial like one would expect expect and they might be able to forge a beneficial relationship. COMPNOR had many things he needed. A vast surveillance and intelligence network, an extensive contact network, and infiltrators across the Empire. In exchange, he had valuable information and technology as well as the use of small fleet elements to offer. COMPNOR, who lacked it's own fleet as well as intelligence services outside of the Empire (which was covered by Imperial Intelligence; COMPNOR is an internal monitoring service) could most definitely use these services. And on the off chance that his gut was wrong and the director couldn't be negotiated with then he would just go to this meeting under the guise of legitimate proceedings. Nobody said he had to bring any of the under-the-table dealings up. He would only talk about them if things seemed safe.

Eight Months After What Lurks In The Shadows? (Garos IV and Sundari)

Project Futuregate


On the surface the home of Project Futuregate was not particularly impressive looking. Located on a planet that was deemed a military ordinance test area and officially a meteorological research station, the only building on the surface was a heavily reinforced concrete and duristeel structure protected by a deflector shield generator and an anit-concussion field generator. Next to it was a pair of small landing pads for shuttles. Around it was a large, brown dry lake bed without a hint of life. By all appearances the structure was one of the great many prefabricated Imperial garrison bases seen all across the galaxy.

Below the surface assembly, however, was a whole new subterranean world. Huge caverns slowly eroded below the surface aeons ago by long-gone subterranean rivers of water were now filled with the technological evidence of humanity. Particle accelerators twisted their way through hundreds of kilomoters of lavatubes, and caverns the size of battlecruisers were now the home of massive fusion reactors and electromagnets. Other, smaller lava bubbles were filled with barracks and research installations and technical equipment and storage areas. Altogether, the entire complex cost as much as half a dozen star destroyers and spread over an area of several hundred kilometers underground, with the inhabited area taking up a dozen kilometers square. Such a complex was not cheap, but the information the installation might be able to uncover could be priceless. Both Governor Thorton who had originally conceived the project and an unknown source of financing believed so. Guesses on who the unknown financer of the project was ranged from The Black Sun to The Galactic Coalition. Nobody at the installation had any concrete details, though. It was all speculation.

He however – he being Twi’lek physicist Malek baal Kaav – had his money on something less treasonous. He believed this installation – which was absolutely Top Secret – was being financed by some other Imperial Element rather than an external source. With the knowledge of what exactly they were doing here in mind – something that was provided on a need to know basis, because most workers were here only to maintain the infrastructure and weren’t to be let in the project’s secrets – he had a very good idea what whoever it was wanted. They wanted knowledge and intelligence. Only a few groups in the Empire that he knew of fit the bill for that: COMPNOR, Imperial Intelligence, and possibly the Emperor Himself.

He looked down at the control panel in front of him and held down a button, a recorder. “Test eleven of the Futuregate Assembly now in progress. Voice recorder active for commenting purposes.” He let go of the button and pushed forward one of three levers. In response the earth around the base began to vibrate and a massive hum began to permeate the base. He looked at a pair of diagrams on a screen in front of him. “Reactor output stable” he said. “Reactor cooling stable.” He pushed the second lever forward and much of the vibrating and humming dissipated. “Particle accelerators online. All cooling and electrical systems green. Magnetic containment fields are live.” He pushed the third lever forward. “Monitoring and reception gear online.” He glanced at the screen again. “All monitoring and reception gear cooling systems are online.” He looked down at a big, red button for a moment and then pressed it. “Particles released. Test Eleven has begun.”

Outside there was a noticeably louder rumbling as half a ton of ions began accelerating down the massive particle acceleration track. It faded as the particles moved away from the base at low speed, but as they came around the track in only fifteen seconds the rumbling came back more intensely than before. On the screen in front of him he could see that the particles were now moving two thousand kilometers per second. Over the course of two minutes they continued to accelerate up to relativistic velocities, reaching well over 99% of the speed of light.

“Collision phase commencing,” he said as he watched a timer count down in front of him. As it hit zero there was a massive rumbling as the particles in the accelerator were forced together by a powerful supermagnet array to create a small version of the big bang. Powerful seismic waves shook the base as the particles collided. At the relativistic velocities they were propelled to, each Ion carried the same amount of momentum as a turbolaser. Taking place in a lavabubble ten kilometers to a side with a hundred-kilometer deep lavatube below it was the most powerful non-nuclear explosion ever created by intelligent creatures, and this was but a mere fraction of what the accelerator was capable of. As the energy of the explosion dissipated he watched the screen in front of him with great interest, focusing specifically on the burst of tachyons detected by heavily shielded sensor packages in the focusing chamber.

All of a sudden the world was quiet except for a whine as most of the base’s power generators and portions of the electrical distribution grid went off line. After thirty seconds even that was gone, and the base was silent as a grave. “Test eleven successfully concluded,” he said. “Project Futuregate is ready to move on to phase two.”

Trachta had been busy for the past year or so, trying to get things in line while digging up any information he might want to review about specific Imperial officials. His time before joining the Empire had taught him a great deal about the power of information and now that he was responsible for internal security he made a great use of it. The black uniform of the ISB was predominant within the offices of COMPNOR since the Bureau, along with Trachta, had basically seized control of the entire Commission some time ago. The Imperial Security Bureau had existed for some time, acting the predominant internal security apparatus of the Empire. Once it had taken over its parent organization, COMPNOR had come to be very much like the Bureau who was the strongest part of COMPNOR now.

"Sir, our guest will be here soon," Rhom chimed in calmly from where he sat across from Trachta.

Trachta merely nodded and pulled up his files on Kach Thorton, reading calmly over what his agents within the man's own forces had to report. Everyone had their little secrets on some level and the ISB dug them up quite efficiently. Trachta ran his organization with a cold and methodical ruthlessness that few could match, it allowed him to gather his own power by spreading out a vast network of spies and operatives all hidden amongst the vast ranks of the Imperial military. This was all done much to the agitation of the higher ups whom Trachta tried to watch as closely as possible as well, this placed him in a rather powerful position though he was always very careful not to abuse it. He wouldn't give his enemies a reason to get rid of him, at least one that they could back strongly enough to actually muster real resistance.

"What do you think of Thorton, Rhom?" Trachta asked curiously, looking up at his second-in-command who ran the ISB while Trachta tended to the overall operations of COMPNOR.

"He's got a rather interesting history, combat record is sound," Rhom replied.

"Yes, yet he wishes to meet with one of the least favored members of the Imperial government. I wonder what he wants?" Trachta mused as he spun a polished metal sphere in his gloved hand. "When he comes, leave us to talk. I wish to see what he may ask when we are alone. If it proves unsatisfactory, well everyone knows what happens then."

Rhom nodded and left, leaving Trachta to await the arrival of his guest. Very soon he would find out precisely why this meeting had been called, pulling him our of a lot of work and further planning for new loyalty programs aside from some enforcement.

How do you drop a bombshell like he was carrying, Kach Thorton wondered. How do you tell somebody who literally had life and death power over you that the official reasons you had traveled here to talk were all a sham, and that what you really wanted was an ally with the ability to neutralize political rivals within the Empire and keep tabs on them? It was a treasonous thought. But somehow, throughout history, rebellious groups and factions had found ways of speaking treasonous ideas. He was sure he would find a way too.

For an organization as powerful as COMPNOR the Headquarters was surprisingly subdued. Rather than a spiraling edifice such as the Imperial Palace or Imperial Navy Headquarters it was a relatively low key building on the surface. Most of it’s area was not above ground, but below, contained in massive tunnels carved through the city-planet’s underworld. Even the landing bays were low-key, actually being located at a building nearby but not adjacent to the headquarters, to which one had to travel by monorail from the landing pad.

He imagined himself waltzing into the head of COMPNOR’s office. “Hello Commander Tracta. Hey, I just wanted to stop by and say since I was in the neighborhood that I want to form a near treasonous alliance with you, I hope you’re up for it.” He shuddered at the thought as he felt an imagined pain in his neck.

Fortunately the monorail ride was short and he didn’t have too much time to think. Thinking could be dangerous in a time like this. Just before exiting he barely stopped himself from reaching up to adjust his concealed blaster for about the fortieth time. The old weapon - a relic from his smuggler days – had sensor-blocking coatings over it’s components, preventing it from showing up on weapons scanners. Though he knew if he messed this up the blaster wouldn’t make him any more likely to survive or escape it was a comfort to have it on him.

At the gate was a guard with a scanner wand in hand. “Forgive me Admiral,” he said, “But you’ll have to check your weapons at the door and I’ll need to scan you.” Nodding, he removed the pistol belt on his side with a blaster in it, resisting the urge to pat the concealed weapon. He handed it to the guard, who then quickly waved a baton over him.

“Thank you Admiral. Your aid next, please.” After quickly running it over the aid walking behind him they were through and began the treacherous walk through the COMPNOR HQ. Before reaching the deepest, most secret parts of the complex they were required to undergo two more scans. Finally they were escorted to an unimpressive looking door and told that his aid would have to wait outside while Thorton was meeting the director. After stealing a final glance at the list from his pocket he pulled out a lighter and burnt it, eliminating the incriminating evidence written on it. He then pressed a tiny button on his comlink, activating a hidden recorder. After carefully checking his posture and taking a breath he stepped into the room, ready to let his gut feeling guide him for better or worse.

Across the room Trachta stood up. For a second Thorton wondered what the man’s rank was – in his mind he had been referring to him as Commander, though it was doubtlessly higher – but before he could get distracted he forced himself back on track. As they shook hands he said “Thank you for meeting with me today, I’ve got important business to take up with you. I need some internal monitoring done on my fleet commanders so that a revolution like the recent Agra-rebellion can never happen again, I need an investigation into some unauthorized financial transactions that are taking place in my Protectorate, and I’d like some information on a number of agents I’ve detected that are actually providing information to some other part of the Imperial Military. And if we can work out some agreements for the first two items then there might be” he paused briefly and deliberately making strong eye contact, “something else.”