The spectre of fighting the Imperial war machine loomed rather close to those warships gathered around Foroest in a high orbit that brought them well away from the commercial traffic that seemed oblivious to the near-standoff. The brink of war kissed the world below, but war was not win this day. Reason and rationality forced closed Pandora's jade-studded box.


Those ships not of Foroest allegiance broke off from the gathered formation and quickly disappeared as soon as distance from the system's gravity well allowed. Some went one way, others another. Before fifteen minutes had elapsed, all non-commercial traffic had gone. Even the meagre forces alloted to Foroest itself saw the matter resolved and returned to the drills which kept them active and occupied.


" Admiral, the last of the non-Foroesti ships has disappeared from our scanners."


Messhir looked up at the Captain and smoothed out the left leg of his jodphurs. The broad red stripe of the General Staff ran down into well-polished boots, on the sleeve that smoothed sat a black band with silver lacing, etched into it the words Imperial Guard. He had given an order, and the order was obeyed. No demonstration of Imperial power was needed, no other outcome required avoidance.


" Then we have no further business here. We have maneuvers to complete, and we're well behind schedule."


The Imperial Fleet followed suit of those who had made haste in other directions, only in a far more disciplined manner. The formation yawed to port in a long, graceful arc that was watched by many Foroesti officers with envy. The cruisers skitted around in predetermined paths of travel to where they could best escort and protect their slower but much larger cousins. Pickets and tenders took up position inside a protective screen of battleships and cruisers and then, as one, the formation too became one with the black curtain of the void.


A Guardsman keeps his word. Always.