The Penetrator-class assault cruiser emerged from hyperspace just outside the Corellian sector, its decks buzzing with activity. In the flag officer's quarters of the cramped cruiser, Vice Admiral Aevan Drakiss studied a data padd, and waited.

"This is the Imperial warship <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Gaspee<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, flying a flag of truce, to any Republic officials of consequence. We request permission to enter the Corellian system," a communications officer transmitted. The message went out in a tight-band broadcast hail. Caution was advised here...no telling who was watching from the shadows.

'Chancellor, we have a cruiser on the edge of the system, requesting entry.' The tinny voice said through the intercom. Gash glanced at the constant feed from the Ganymede NRI Installation. He'd known long before the contact.

"Who?" He asked, spinning to face the comm.

'Aevan Drakiss. Vice-Admiral.' The reply came. Under normal circumstances, Gash would have snapped at the droid that he knew just who Aevan Drakiss was, but he was far too deep in contemplation.

"And he wishes to enter the system?"

'Yes.'

"Let him do so," Gash said, eyes narrowing. "And be on alert."

"Admiral, we have received entry clearance and are once again in transit," the call came from the bridge. Aevan Drakiss looked on at a holoreader as a mirror image of the bridge's situation map was reproduced here.

"Very good, Commander. Signal them that our intention is to dock with a station or vessel containing suitable arrangements for a conference or parley..something equipped with a heavy-duty holoprojector, I should imagine. Request that they transmit the coordinates of said meeting place back to us when they are ready. Drakiss out."

The <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Gaspee<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, weapons unpowered, engaged in a short hyperjump into the system, before falling back into realspace and proceeding towards a Corellian orbit.

'He's docked.' Kasien said, looking up from his wrist-comm.

"Good." Gash responded offhand, almost dismissively. Aevan Drakiss... the Empire, knocking on the door of Corellia, the very core of the Republic? Such gall. Such faith, that the Republic would not simply fire on Imperial craft, flying the flag of truce or not. It's not as if Alderaan wasn't flying the flag of truce...

What business, then, could possess an Imperial admiral to seek audience with the Republic? Something crucial, obviously. Some kind of Imperial machination, something they knew that the NRI didn't; and most admirals were wise enough not to travel a few thousand lightyears to rub an intel breakthrough in the face of an enemy.

So, obviously, it was something they wanted him to know, something they felt would aid them.

And what jumped to mind?

Kasien Treseda, still sitting in front of Jiren, blinked a few times, as deep in thought as Gash. 'What do you think this is about?' He asked, in a tone which conveyed that he was almost sure of the answer.

"Jileeak, obviously." Gash said. "It can't be anything else."

'You want me to stay?' Kasien asked. Gash knew the man possessed at least five concealed weapons that would be overlooked by any inspection.

"No. Go, and tell them to send Drakiss to my office."

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> He had shrugged the offer aside, withheld a chuckle at the very thought. If the Republic chose to assassinate him, a squad of stormtroopers would do little good, could not hope to protect him in a situation where he had plainly trusted his life to a mere truce flag.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

The office was spartan, white walls, a smattering of artistic furniture and tropical plants which seemed oddly out of place, mixed with various pieces of medical equipment which had not been used in a while. Gash Jiren himself had tanned skin, long, white hair, and covered himself in a dark blue robe.

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> My Gods, I've stumbled into the laboratory of Dr. Frankenstein,<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> he thought, before dipping his head in acknowledgement of the other, and performing his office.

"My government has authorized me to present you with this data card of the disposition of assets in the Hoth system. The data is 1 standard day old, taken by an Imperial recon cruiser and decrypted for your viewing."

He inserted the data card into the slot reader of a holoprojector mounted from the ceiling, and the lights dimmed. Projectors painted fast-moving asteroids across the room. The view continued for a moment until the asteroids were clear, and a large cluster of warships soon became visible. Text appeared in the center of the image, scrolling ship classes and quantities as fast as the sensors could identify them.

"This is Warlord Fearsons' defense fleet. One thing we found to be particularly noteworthy is the Abolisher-class cruisers, for obvious reasons."

The uncompleted shell of the death star moved into position in the center of the image, gaining extra focus and detail as the holoprojector focused more on rendering it.

"And this..." he indicated the space station, "is the Death Star. Our technicians estimate that it is as far as 80% complete, with its primary weapon as yet incapable of firing."

"Hoth." Gash said, almost chuckling. "Out of the way, uninhabited, and fully developed with Rogue Imperial Shipyards. Not suprising, is it?"

Gash gestured lazily towards the projection. "So, we have a tactical readout of our good friend's construction area for his weapon of mass destruction." He paused. "Obviously, we thank you for the shared information. But I'm interested, Mister Drakiss, in why you're here. Why tell me? What's in this for you?"

He stared at Gash Jiren in disbelief, not understanding the logic which that man had used to come to his conclusions.

"Surely you must understand....this weapon is not a threat to but a single person or party. The mere existence of it transcends simple political denominations entirely, and must indeed touch on our very primal survival instincts so that we may defend ourselves from it. It is a plague, sir. Nothing less. I could not imagine such an instance that my government should choose to neglect imparting knowledge of it, and in so doing forsake the galaxy. No, we would promptly reject that offer of thirty pieces of silver."

His face was hot, and he wiped his forehead gently with a handkerchief.

"Ancient human literature?" Gash said, chuckling slightly. "Mister Drakiss, while I'm sure that Imperial propaganda portrays me as an old fool, I assure you, I am not." Gash sat back, steepling his fingers.

"Having dealt with the Empire for nearly a decade of my life, it is my belief that the Empire has never done anything not benefitting itself. Thus, you come to sew the seeds of contempt for Fearsons in me now, with this... information." Gash snorted. "I could think of many instances that the Empire would neglect to inform me of their discovery. It took us hundreds of Bothan spies to find the last Death Star."

Gash paused, and studied the map one more time. "I am not blinded enough by fanaticism to believe that the Empire is consisting solely of evil and treacherous murderers bent on the rape and pillage of our galaxy. But I am loath to place trust in you. While I believe this information is true," Gash pointed a finger at the display, and it promptly shut off, "There is a reason you gave it to me. And it isn't because you give a twopenny damn about me, my people, or my worlds."

Gash cocked his head. "What now, then? I trust you will allow my people to make a copy of that datacard, but, with your information delivered, does this end here? You return to Bastion, no questions asked, no demands made?"

"Mister Jiren," Aevan retorted. "A lack of contempt for that infernal station would benefit but one person. The last death star...you've seen what that did to us, I'm certain. Necessity spawns change, however slight, in even the most ardent of heavy-handed Imperial conservatives. Defend your people from that device, Gash Jiren. We shall do likewise. No demands, I bring but that warning. As for the datacard, do with it as you will, it is your copy.

"A point well made." Gash stood, his white hair draping down onto his shoulders, and the navy hood of his robe. He extended a hand to Aevan Drakiss, the slightest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well then, for the sake of the galaxy, let's hope that I'm wrong and you're right, eh?"