The appetizer had arrived in the company of some excellent wine, a white sparkling liquor that refused to stop bubbling. Stewards in black dress jackets atop high-collared tunics decorated only by SS runes brought bread and condiments. Officers of all branches and arms sipped on their wines and poked at the blooming onions with different forks.

Grand Admiral Desaria, however, went directly to the end fork. The rules of ettiqute stated - in the abbridged version, at least - that during a multi course meal on formal occassions, begin with the outermost utensils and work in therefrom. Desaria took in hand the smallest fork, a brilliantly polished silver one mounting five thin prongs, and made his assault on the onion. Glacing over at Commander Fleetfire of the SS fighter contingent, the Baron watched him stab at the onion. Desaria however was less blunt in his attack - he dissected it as would a surgeon with a las-scalpel.

A glance around the table at the other officers was as revealing: those of noble birth, men who had honed the arts of sophistication, were delicately carving up their dishes while those without such refinement were using all the brute force cutlery could provide. All but Selere, Desaria noticed - he was eating...properly. To that, Desaria arched an eyebrow.

" I notice, Colonel, some familiarity in the accent of your voice. Praytell, where are you from?"

Wes watched as the nobility of the Guard ate with incredible refinement. It made him think back to those days on Bakuru with his parents. He had begun to learn the rules of ettiquette from them. But they had taught him too well the philosophy of the Empire. On his fourteenth birthday, when he was home on leave from the Imperial Academy, they had foolishly told him they were rebels fighting against the Empire. He had turned them in. They had been executed as traitors. Wes hadn't cared.

Now, some of that training drifted back into his habits now. His eating was not as refined as the Guard's, but it was better than most of his men. Except for Selere. Selere had the same training Desaria had on Kuat, and it showed.

Selere glanced at Desaria, swallowed, and replied, "I'm from the Selere family, on Kuat. And I must say, Admiral, it is an honor to meet you. The last time I saw you, you were guest lecturing at the Academy. Your grasp of tactics was astonishing even then."

Grand Admiral Desaria pursed his lips, savoring the tart sensation of a holandaise sause on the onion delicacy. Thinking hard, he tried to recall the name of that particular family, but specifics escaped him. Not wanting to be disrespectful, he shot in the dark at a target not easy to miss.

" I cannot say I've had the pleasure of meeting your family, but the name sounds familiar. You had a representative on the KDY board of directors, no?"

Prince Jurror meanwhile was cautiously observing the second of theSS fighter officers, Commander Lomax. Everytime the Baron would look to take in the scene as a whole, he caught the displaced royal family member casting glances that were they cannonades would have smothered any defenses. The name, Lomax, Desaria thought it too sounded familiar but could not place it. Without any conspicuous act of gallanmtry to pin to the name, memory of one officer of a million was difficult, even for a Grand Admiral.

" Ah, the Academy. I've had the pleasure of speaking on Raltiir where I graduated and Carida as well. Raltiir was immense to me when I arrived and I never thought Carida would dwarf it so. Which one did you attend?"

Lomax hadn't missed the glares of the Prince either. Except unlike Desaria, he knew why they were directed his way. It hadn't been that long since Lomax had been in the Guard. This meeting, this dinner, brought back memories that he had wanted to forget. Certain individuals in the Guard had deemed him dishonorable, for an offense that he knew was necessary. One of these individuals had challenged him to a duel, and he had refused. Directly. And he had insulted the man in the process. Just before he was drummed out, Wes had had him transferred to the SS. Now, he was forced to face the Guard again.

Selere, on the other hand, was carrying on a wonderful conversation with his idol, Grand Admiral Desaria. Just small talk, really, but it was delightful to Selere. "Raltiir, Sir. I actually broke one of your records there, and tied your score in the senior fencing competition."

For a moment, a scant moment, the Commandant of the Guard looked wounded. His eyes narrowed and brow furrowed as the thought of his accomplishments from what felt like a bygone era were eclipsed. It was as if, for that very moment, the Baron had come face to face with a fate far worse than death - dishonour.

The clouds passed, however, as did all things. The comment was not mean to insert superiority or to insult, it was good natured in its inception and only improperly received. Lieutenant-General von Strachwitz straightened the right sleeve of his well-pressed tunic, pulling it down and thus straightening the Panzerclasp above his rank plaque; he looked at the Grand Admiral with concern and downed an entire glass of wine. Desaria beamed for a moment.

" Tied me in fencing, did you? Well then, Colonel, I challange you to a duel! I'll wager you last week's pay that I can best you now!"

Kuati to Kuati, another layer of Hoth-thick ice was broken. Colonel Selere removed his gloves from a trouser pocket and threw it down onto the table near his plate. " Sir, I accept!"

Noise rose up as the Guard and SS united in laughter. Prince Jurror however, was not laughing. His face had reddened as recognition dawned. He stood and spoke as deliberately as his royal bearing permitted, an arm pointing directly at the second S fighter officer. The single word he spoke ended all laughter, all joviality.

" Coward."

Lomax's eyes went hard at the word. They hadn't even gotten through the appetizer before his past had surfaced, and with the worst possible person. Well, not the worst. The man whose duel he had refused would have been the worst. But Prince Jurror wasn't much better. And now things had come to a head. He rose as well, staring at Jurror across the table, hand drifting towards his coat, which concealed a .38 special slugthrower.

Selere spoke before it came to blows. "Prince Jurror, that is a serious charge. All I have known of Commander Lomax has been honorable and good, as brave as any man in the Guard. Have you proof to back up your accusations?"

It was Lomax that answered. "I'll tell you what he'll give you as proof. He'll tell you I ran from duty. He'll tell you that I led my unit of Guardsmen to safety while enemies overran a position and slaughtered every man there. He'll tell you that the commander's brother, a member of his own family, challenged me to a duel and I refused, knowing full well that my actions that day were correct. That's what he'll tell you."

Selere stared at the Commander in horror. "You ran out on your unit?"

Lomax shook his head. "No. I escorted civillian ships off the planet, refugees fleeing for Imperial space. I wanted to refuse the order, but Major Jurror ordered me to leave. I could not do otherwise than to obey. It was my duty, but since the witnesses were all killed in the resulting fight, his brother, and the Prince here, never believed me."

" He is a coward!" Prince Jurror said, barely containing his rage. His fists were balled and resting on the table, his body now bent over. He looked at the man challanging his accusation, glowering at Colonel Selere. " My cousin was killed on [font=Arial]Analuptar [/font]having been abandoned by an officer command in battalion command. That officer deserted under fire and every civilian 3rd Battalion, 12th Regiment of the Guard was tasked to evacuate was slaughtered, along with the soldiers - all but him."


Grand Admiral Desaria himself stood, his hands bare having removed his gloves in th course of the meal. He looked across the circular table at the Prince, fury burning in his face. The Guard honoured all soldiers, regardless of race creed and allegiance provided they fought with gallantry and courage. To desert was the greatest crime of dishonour a soldier could committ - all the much worse for a Guardsman. Desaria raised an arm to silence Jurror, but the man continued.


" His brother, a Major as well, challanged this...thing... He refused. He refused! If he did not desert than he would not have refused!"


" Enough!" Desaria shouted, his eyes a little wider than before but his composure remained. " Colonel, sit down. Now."


Selere was about to interject but the Grand Admiral tossed him a look that intimated any words would be useless and any attempt to speak them ill-advised. The Baron looked slowly at Lomax. " I remember the story of a deserter from that world when the Dragons struck. I dismissed it as rumor since no soldier reported back as surviving. Is this man you?"

Lomax, fire burning in his blue eyes at this latest round of accusations, stared directly at Desaria. "I am no deserter," he said, spitting out every word. "I was ordered by this man's cousin to see to the evacuation of the civillians. My platoon was given a task that would have taken an army to accomplish. The Dragons pounced on us just outside the planet's gravity well. I was in a Defender at the time, and I downed twelve Dragon craft before they disabled me. The only system that worked was my life support. I struggled to get the fighter operational, but did not succeed until the battle was over. I was forced to watch my platoon die in front of my eyes. Is it any wonder I did not wish to honor my commander's death by killing his brother?"

Lomax blinked once, then continued. "Yes, Excellency. I am the man you heard about." His hands moved to the table as he leaned towards the Baron. "But I am no deserter."

The matter at hand was grave. If the Prince was right, then the SS man was a deserter and shirker, having abandoned his unit in a time of battle. If Lomax was right, all he had done was leave a battlefield that no soldier was left alive on. In either case, he had absconded from a duel.

Desaria straightened. " Commander, you did not return to your regiment. What happened? How did you happen into the SS?"

Lomax, still hot but settling down a bit, replied, "I did return to my regiment. Well, to what was left of it, anyway. That was when I ran into Major Jurror's brother. I told him what happened, and he called me a liar. Challenged me to a duel, right there. To avenge his brother, he said, and to honor his family. To destroy scum like me. I refused. I told him I would not cause a family more grief by killing a second son, and when he insisted I told him he could go to hell. Then I turned my back on him and walked away.

"The next day I received a message from then-Captain Vos, offering me a position as a Lieutenant in the newly-formed SS. I accepted and put in the request for transfer. My Colonel, who had always liked me, hustled the paperwork through. Wishing to avoid this sort of conflict, I was gone a week later. Yet it seems this conflict has followed me even here.

"If you believe I am a deserter, Excellency, ask any SS man here. They can testify of my bravery on Coruscant, on Bothuwai, on Valinor, and on Centares. Ask yourself, would a coward do what I have done?"