Marth stood on the bridge of the Stryker Carrier <i>Cougar</i>. The Carrier was the flagship of the small fleet that was currently guarding the planet of Iridonia against interference by any other force. Unity was essential if the New Coalition was ever to be successful in spreading its message of peace across the galaxy. Enemies would pick on internal divisions and use those divisions for their own gain. The <i>Cougar</i> and her companions were here to make sure that no force would take advantage of the internal divisions within the Zabraks. Marth knew how potent internal divisions could be. As the Director of Black Hand he had often taken advantage of these divisions for his own advantage. But since the Coalition and the Commonwealth desired to keep a squeaky clean image there couldn’t be even a tiny hint of their involvement in the matter.

“Vessel exiting from hyperspace!”

The cry rang out through the bridge of the Carrier. With a sense of admiration Marth watched Captain Lazare and her crew work diligently and efficiently as they opened communications with the vessel. Marth had arrived in the Commonwealth only a few weeks ago with the job of increasing the fighting preparedness of the Commonwealth. Already results could be seen in the performance of ship crews, even in recruitment. A war hero dropping by for a public appearance was always a good thing for public support of the military and with public support came more people interested in careers in the military. Know he was on a tour of Commonwealth units, seeing first-hand the effects the recent changes had brought about on the Praetorian Guard, which traditionally was the most experienced and well trained force in the Coalition military and know were even better than before.

The vessel was bound for Drells Depth and was carrying a load of foodstuffs. After being inspected the freighter was allowed to continue on its way while the <i>Cougar</i> continued her silent watch.

Zortik Herring stood on the edge of Drells Depth, the largest and most populated of the deep canyons that crisscrossed the surface of Iridonia. The great storms that swirled across Iridonia had abated temporarily allowing Zortik to be able to make this voyage out of the secluded shelter provided by Drells Depth and to stare out at the Wash Sea, the largest of the four acid seas that covered Iridonia. Even with the storms being nearly non-existent the wind still whipped along at a brisk 80 kilometres per hour bringing with it ocean spray. The spray stung and burned Zortik wherever it struck him but he ignored the pain. He was a Drell Zabrak, the greatest of the many sub-species of Zabrak that populated Iridonia, pain was nothing for him. Merely an inconvenience that should be accepted and pushed aside. Besides there were pressing matters at hand and it would not do to ignore them in favour of petty concerns like personal well-being. He was from a family with a long and distinguished history. The Herring Clan had long had an important position in Iridonian politics, Zortik’s grandfather had been the President of Iridonia, a post that was know held by Zortik.

“Mr. President, your son is here as you requested.”

The voice of his aide, Bao Kahmf, could barely be heard against the gales that were screaming across the surface. Zortik turned his back on the vista ahead of him and saw his son Dennis stride towards him. Zortik smiled giving his face a leering, devilish quality as his son strode into the wind, ignoring the acid spray. He was a fine young Zabrak who would hopefully one day become a fine successor for his father, but that was too far into the future for Zortik too think about.

“You asked for me to come father?”

Zortik nodded at his son’s question. Quick and to the point, yes he would make a fine leader some day.

“You are of course aware of the current crisis?”

“You mean the problems that the Senat have raised?”

Zortik snorted at his son’s diplomatic wording concerning the problem.

“Problem. It’s a full-fledged rebellion. Those Zabraks think they know how to run the planet better than its elected officials.”

The Senat were another one of the many sub-species of Zabraks that populated Iridonia. They lived on the other side of the planet as the Drell Zabraks and they were the traditional enemies of the Drell. Angered at the stranglehold the Drells and more specifically the Herrings had over the planetary presidency in recent generations they had begun to disagree with everything Zortik said or did. The later disagreement, concerning entrance into the Onyxian Commonwealth had grown into a full-fledged rebellion. The majority of the Zabraks were in favour of joining the Onyxian Commonwealth and they had voted so in a recent Planetary referendum. The Senat had disagreed and had actually taken up arms against the government. The Commonwealth anxious to not be involved in a publicity nightmare had chosen to distance themselves from the situation and not provide support or material to the government. They did however maintain a tight cordon around the planet to prevent any other forces from coming down on either side of the engagement and changing the balance of power. Zortik had been reluctant to crush the Senat since he did not want to be accused of trying to wipe out a whole sub-species of the Zarabaks, <i>that</i> would have been a publicity nightmare of gargantuan proportions.

“So why did you call me here?” asked Dennis, confusion evident in his tone.

“The Commonwealth has requested that we attempt to negotiate with the Senat. The Senat and I have agreed, they will accept one ambassador. I want you to be that ambassador. A shuttle has been prepared for your departure.”

Dennis nodded his acceptance, “I will father and I will do you proud.”

It was the day after Dennis had talked to his father and he was ready to leave. As he closed up his suitcase and gave it to the robot porter he stopped for a second to gave back on his room. He had lived in this room for his entire life, throughout his childhood and his ascension to manhood. Now he was about to depart on his first real mission as a man and he was lost in his childhood.

<i>"When I get back I'm going to redecorate. I don't need anymore of this kiddy stuff."</i>

With that thought firmly placed in his mind he turned and exited the room. Outside the sun was just starting to rise and the canyon was plunged into shadows because the Sun had not yet reached a high enough position in the sky. An old Lambda class Shuttle was waiting for Dennis as he walked towards the landing pad. Nobody was there to say goodbye because his father was off visiting another sub-species of the Zabraks, informing them of Dennis' mission.

Dennis settled down in his seat and strapped in while the pilot droid warmed up the engines. The second that Dennis nodded his preparedness to the droid they were up and off weaving their way through the valleys. The storms had increased overnight and it wouldn't be safe to take the shuttle out. Luckily the journey to the Senat Prime, the home canyon of the Senat, was fairly direct so they wouldn't lose to much time. As the shuttle travelled over cities and pastures Dennis settled back into his couch and began to think of his room. A light brown would go very nicely with the drapes and maybe a nice nerf-hide couch. Yes that would be perfect, a couch right near the door to his room. A shudder ran through the shuttle as it rose above the canyons for a quick dash to the canyon system controlled by the Senat. The engines on the shuttle screamed and the shuttle bucked and yawed as it fought through storm winds running at speeds of up to 200 km/h. Then it was all over as the shuttle descended into the Senat canyons. From here Dennis knew that it was only an hours journey to Senat Prime.Suddenly the shuttle bucked again. Dennis frowned, the pilot droid must have brought them back out of the shelter of the canyon. Why he would do that Dennis had no idea though. Then Dennis happened to look out the viewport beside his seat and see green lasers flashing by.

"Son of a bitch we're being shot at!"

Dennis ran forwards to the piloting compartment and found the droid piloting steadily onwards as though nothing had happened.

"Evasive action! We're being attacked!" he ordered the droid.

The droid didn't look back at Dennis it just kept piloting onwards. Then realization dawned on Dennis that the droid must have been tampered with. Pushing the droid aside he grabbed the controls and began to try to dodge the lasers. The first couple shots missed but then the pursuers began to adjust to the shuttles erratic movements. But then their lasers steadily began to move closer and closer towards the shuttle. Just as the lasers began to hammer the shuttle Dennis threw the Shuttle into a wild spin. The port engine flared out at the exact instant that the shuttles starboard wing broke off against the canyon wall. The shuttle began to drop like a rock. The shuttle crashed to the ground with a cloud of dust billowing up behind it. As Dennis began to pass out his attackers flew over head giving him his first glance at them.

<i>“Those look like A-9s! The Senat don’t have A….”</i>

Fade to black.

Pride filled Lieutenant-Commander Balzac as he watched the bridge crew work. This was his first shift as watch officer. Already his mind was full of dreams of grandeur. A freighter would come and it would be full of smuggled goods and he’d be the one to recover them. No that wasn’t good enough, it would probably only get him an official pat on the head. A cruiser… no a star destroyer would come. They’d be outnumbered but through brilliant action by the brave and handsome Commander Balzac would save the ship. He’d be promoted on the spot to Captain or Commodore. He’d be given command of one of those Dauntless Command Cruisers. From there his promotion would be fast. He’d be the youngest ever Admiral to command a fleet. Yes Commander Balzac was quite excited about this watch. It would be the first step on the way to grandeur.

“Sir, a shuttle’s lifting off from Drell’s Depth!” reported the tracking officer.

“Very well Ensign, that would be the diplomatic envoy from the President. It should be heading to the Senat territory. Log the contact and continue normal scanning.”

“Yes sir.”

The bridge remained filled with the normal hum of people working diligently at their tasks. Traffic was light in the system, though a couple of freighters were due in-system in two hours. Balzac remained fixed in his dreams of grandeur as he sat there in the Captains chair. Quite a nice chair too. Someday when he had his own ship to command he would have a chair just like it.

“Sir! Long-range scanners report energy bursts right near the border between the Senat and the Drell.”

This brought Balzac’s thoughts to a quick halt. Had war broken out? Or was this something else? Should he rouse the captain?

“Tell me what you know about the bursts sensors?”

“Not a whole lot sir. It could be static-discharge from a broken down generator.”

“Yes that’s probably what it is, some damn farmer can’t be bothered to maintain his equipment. Log the contact and resume scanning.”

“Yes sir.”

Little did Balzac know that hundreds of kilometers below him a young man was fighting for his life in the face of unknown attackers.

Dennis woke up to birds tweeting and a ringing in his head. His head felt like it was going to explode but he pushed that aside. He was a Zabrak. There wasn't time to sit there wallowing in his pain. His attackers would be back to check for survivors. He would need to be prepared before they arrived. He pulled himself out of the wreckage that was once the cockpit of the shuttle and looked around taking stock of his situation. The compartment where the survival kit and his bags had been was a smoking hole, he wasn't going to find anything useful like a blaster. He'd have to make it for himself.

Then a story came to him, the story of how the Zhaboka was made. The Zhaboka was a double-bladed fighting pike that had been used by the Zabraks for thousands of years. Originally it had been made from wooden sticks and shards from shipwrecks. These days they were manufactured in factories and they were only used for ceremonial purposes.

<i>"Well, I have a whole shipwreck here. Let's get cracking!"</i>

It didn't take Dennis long to construct his Zhaboka. Materials were plentiful, there were plenty of shards from the crash and the crash had also uprooted a few trees. To bind the metal to the wood he used strips from his tunic.

Ten minutes after the idea first came to him he was staring at the thing that lay before him. Ruefully he thought of the ceremonial Zhaboka that had been given too him upon his becoming a man. That had been a weapon of beauty. Perfectly balanced and deadly sharp it had even been able to cut through metal. The weapon that lay before him wasn't in the same league as that one. Hell, it wasn't even in the same galaxy.

Suddenly Dennis had a gut feeling that he should better hide. He'd had these gut feelings his entire life and he'd learned to listen to them. It had helped him out many times during his youth and if he was to survive this experience he was going to need all the help he could get.

Spying an outcroping of rock not to far away Dennis ran over to the outcrop and hid in a position that gave him a view of both the shuttle and the canyon as it snaked away in both directions. He clutched his zhaboka firmly as he sat there waiting for what was to come next.

Dennis wiped a bit of dust out of his eyes as he stared at the men searching through the rubble that was his shuttle. They obviously did not expect any resistance from a man who had been shot down. They were very casual as they poked around the wreckage of the shuttle looking to see if there were any survivors. The shuttle had remained fairly intact upon crashing to the ground, a testimony to the men and women who had designed and built it. But the one thing that had saved Dennis' life might also doom it, for pretty soon they would realize that there was not a Zabrak corpse in there and then they'd come looking for him. Dennis began to look around and consider his situation: he was outnumbered, outgunned and he was injured. There had been so much adrenaline pumping following the crash that he had not even had a chance to take stock of his injuries, know that he had he discovered a throbbing pain in his left shoulder. Hopefully it was just a bad bruise and nothing too serious. Dennis quickly decided upon a plan but it was too late. The searchers were already beginning to fan out and look for any signs of his passing, luckily it was the dry season in this area of Iridonia or he would have been caught in an instant.

The searchers spread out with each one walking in a different direction. They were more alert now though, the possibility that there was an enemy about had caused them to at least raise their blasters to waist level and they were now looking around more attentively. The one nearest to Dennis was walking slowly towards his hiding spot, his eyes were tracking slowly across the landscape and his nostrils were flaring as if he was trying to sniff Dennis out. Dennis shrunk back into his hiding place as the searcher passed him.

<i>"I'm invisible, I'm invisible, you can't see me."</i> He thought as the searcher walked past. He found comfort in the childish thoughts and for a second he could almost see the searchers eye's missing him as they looked around the landscape.

Strangely enough it worked, the searcher only glanced over his hiding spot and apparently did not see Dennis huddled at the bottom of the rock. Then as the searcher continued past him, he rose to a crouch, in a quick, efficient, silent movement he sprung to his feet and cut the searchers throat with his zhaboka while his hand covered the searchers mouth so he couldn't make any noise. Dennis felt the searcher go rigid and then collapse in his arms, he had just killed his first man but he didn't even stop to consider it. He was in the flow now and his very survival may depend on quick action. Quickly he grabbed the searcher's blaster rifle and returned to his hiding spot. The hunted was now the hunter.

Dennis peeked over the rock he was sheltering behind, looking for a target, somewhere, anywhere. Then his eyes picked out the dark figure of somebody walking away off to his right. Dennis swung his rifle around and centred on the shadowy figure. The distance was about 300 meters, a hard shot but not impossible. Just as he had been taught Dennis braced the rifle and then waited until the moment was right. He caught the searcher on the upper left quadrant of his back. The shot probably wouldn't be fatal but it would certainly incapacitate him, even a Zabrak could only deal with so much pain. But now his pursuers would know that he was here so he'd have to work fast. Dennis began to scan the area around him for a third target when he had that gut feeling again. Without even pausing to think he dove to his right just as a blaster bolt exploded into the rock behind him. Shards of rock pierced his back like hundreds of tiny fiery needles but he ignored them, they and his arm would be dealt with later. Unwilling to leave his back or side open to the other searcher Dennis leapt up from his hiding spot and retreated towards the canyon, that was when he heard the unmistakable click of a blaster rifle safety and he heard the gravely voice of a Zabrak behind him.

"Give it up son. We've got you surrounded."

<i>"Son of a bitch!"</i> Dennis thought. <i>"They flanked me!"</i>

Dennis dropped his blaster and raised his hands above his head in surrender. He didn't have the faintest clue how he was going to get out of this one. His only hope was that they wouldn't execute him right away. Maybe he could escape, or maybe his captors would negotiate for his release. He could be a pretty valuable prisoner of war.

"You've fought hard, but you're a liability and we can't have liabilities hanging around."

<i>"Well I guess this is it,"</i> Dennis thought as he braced himself for the impact of the execution shot.

A whining filled the air and Dennis squeezed his eyes shut. If he was going to die he was going to go down remembering his family, not with images of this bloody hellhole of a canyon. But the impact never came Dennis opened his eyes and looked around. All the searchers were dead. The two who had been unhurt and the one Dennis had shot were all crumpled on the ground with neat holes in the back of their heads. Dennis didn't understand but he knew one thing. He was alive and not in any immediate danger and that was better than any of the other Zabraks in his vicinity.

<center>****</center>

An hour later Dennis was speeding along the canyon in the landspeeder that the searchers had brought with them. He had a bacta patch he had found in the speeder's stores over his shoulder. He was heading to Senat Hills, a tiny community about 200 kilometres north from the crash sight. When he had turned on the landspeeder a message was waiting for him from his unknown saviours. It told him to go to Senat Hills and that he would find help in the house of the Mayor.

The message was unsigned but one thing was clear to Dennis.

There were other forces at work on Iridonia.

While Dennis was busy struggling for his life, the Senat were already beginning the second step of their plan. Stealth and surprise are great advantages on the field of battle and the Senat already had plenty of both.

“Senat Shuttle to Drells Depth control we have an important message for Zortik Herring.”

“Copy that shuttle. We’re patching you into the President’s office.”

Zortik Herring looked up in surprise from his desk when his aide appeared with a comlink.

“Sir, there’s an incoming message for you.”

“From Dennis?” he asked.

“No sir, it’s from the Senat.”

Zortik sighed at hearing this. He had been anxious for news of his son’s arrival at Senat Prime, he didn’t want to listen to some other windbag talk on and on. That’s why he’d sent Dennis. The Senat were supposed to be talking to Dennis not to him.

“This is President Herring,”

“Mr. Herring, your son suffered an unfortunate accident. A piece of baggage fell on his head when his shuttle landed. Apparently a cross-wind suddenly blew up and the landing was a bit harder than usual. He’s in stable condition but he’s unconscious. We were wondering if you wished for him to be returned to Drell’s Depth.”

“Yes please do,” said Zortik, anxiety now beginning to creep into his voice. “We’ll care for him here. Land at Landing Bay Alpha. If he wakes up before you land, tell him what you’re doing and inform him that my wife and I will be waiting for him.”

“Yes sir. We’ll arrive in one hour.”

“So soon?” asked Zortik surprised.

“We’re using one of our high-speed shuttles. Only the best for a visiting ambassador.”

“Thank you,” said Zortik. “I only hope that your people and mine can work this amicably on other issues.”

“Let us hope. Now if you’ll excuse me I must go talk to the pilot and inform him of our destination. Goodbye Mr. President.”

Zortik heard a click over his comlink signifying that the other side had closed off the channel. He didn’t bother wasting a second as he stood up and rushed out of the office.
<center>*****</center>

The pilot of the lead A-9 Vigilance smiled as he closed off the comlink. He’s going to meet us at the Landing Platform. That will make this mission that much easier. He opened a channel to his other squadmates, with the comm set on low power. It wouldn’t do for the Drell to detect a shuttle talking with itself after all.

“Stay tight. We need to be only one image. The president and his wife will be at the landing pad. One strafing run and then split up to individual targets.” Four clicks greeted his order. That was good, they were concentrating on their mission.

The A-9s had been smuggled onto Iridonia a month before the Senate had voted to join the Onyxian Commonwealth. Certain members of the Senat had seen the direction the wind was blowing and had smuggled 12 A-9s onto Iridonia. They were far better than the old outdated cloakshape fighters that the government forces flew and the government only had 2 squadrons of the cloakshapes so the forces were fairly evenly matched. Plus this mission and others like it taking place at the exact same time would reduce the advantage sizeably.

Looking down at his chrono he noticed that there was only another 15 minutes until they reached Drells Depth. Time to get ready. The balance of power was about to be suddenly shifted….

Zortik Herring was standing at the edge of the landing pad looking off to the west where flight control had said there was a shuttle approaching. He could hear something, a buzzing noise like the sound of sublight engines. Because the shuttle was travelling in the canyons, they could be heard for a long time before they became visible to either the naked or enhanced eye.

He spied his wife, Emalda, out of the corner of his eye. Her mouth was set in a tight line as she also stared at the direction that the noise was coming from. Smiling bravely he reached out and squeezed her hand.

"Don't worry, he's a big strong son. He'll be fine," he said reassuringly.

"I know," she said sniffing. "It's just that-that they grow up so fast. I remember when he was just a little baby."

Zortik drew back from this comment, Zabraks were notoriously strong-willed and prideful. It was an affront to think of a fully-grown Zabrak like that. Times had changed especially after the attack on Iridonia two years ago. The Zabraks had realized that they needed to be stronger and work together. There was still a number of Zabraks who littered the galaxy, working as Mercenaries or Bounty Hunters but the number was decreasing each year, they were beginning to work towards the betterment of Iridonia. He would never thank the terrorists who had attacked his planet but he wasn't so egotistical to think that without the attack he wouldn't have been able to incite the social and cultural change in the Zabraks. And know he was standing on what would probably be his most lasting legacy, the rebuilt city of Drells Depth. It had been shattered and nearly completely destroyed following the orbital bombardment. Two years of hardwork and it was nearly completely rebuilt.

"I can see them!" Emalda shouted, her finger pointing off and up to the right of Zortik's current gaze. Focusing his eyes on the direction that she was pointing he began to pick out a grey shape, that of the shuttle.

The shuttle got closer and closer and then the oddest thing happened, the shuttle came apart into four different pieces. Almost like it was disintegrating, but it couldn't be disintegrating, there would've been an explosion.

"Zortik what's happening?"

"I don't know Emalda," he said apprehension beginning to fill his brain.

Then the specks got close enough that Zortik could begin to pick out details. They looked like snubfighters! Then green flashes of light began to spark aroung the fighters.

Like emeral coloured rain, the deadly lasers began to reach out and strike the area around Zortik. There was no place to run, the landing pad was surrounded by nothing except more flat landing pads. Then suddenly he felt himself falling down to the ground. Looking down he saw that the lasers had blown away part of his right leg. He couldn't feel anything, shock, a distant part of his mind told him. Looking around he saw Emalda crumpled to the ground, half of her torso incinerated. He began to crawl towards her but then another laser blast and another struck him, burning away head and his torso. By the time the flighters passed overhead the only thing left of Zortik Herring was a blackened, twisted skeleton. So died Zortik Herring, uniter, rebuilder, visionary, President and father.

<center>*****</center>

The pilot of the lead A-9 smiled as his fighter screamed over the blackened and charred wreck of what was once a pristine new landing pad and two Zabraks. One mission done, know time to complete the second. He began to curve up and to starboard knowing without checking that his wingman was following while the other pair kept going straight, they were going to strafe the parliament buildings. He compared the landscape laid out in front of him with the one from the map he memorized. There! The pilot brought his A-9 into a screeching dive and his lasers began to flash again. A second pair of lasers, his wingman's, joine his lasers in dismantling a grand house, whose proprieter, had died very recently at his hand. The house was of course, the house of the President. When they were satisfied that the house was in a suitable condition that nothing could be left alive inside they began to vector towards the military base. Even know the base was just beginning to sound the alert with pilots and mechanics beginning to rush towards the 12 Cloakshape fighters that were sitting on the tarmac at the base. Smiling inside his mask the pilot triggered his lasers spreading fire from fighter to fighter, destroying them one by one. His wingman began to target the pilots and ground personnell. Yes they were defenceless, but an enemy left alive was an enemy who could shoot you in the back.

When both of them were done their runs they pulled up into tight loops and began to head back towards Senat territory. At two other locations similar actions were taking place. Within the hour the only fighter force on Iridonia would be his. The Government forces would be deprived of air power as well as command and control.

The balance of power had just changed dramatically...

Dennis Herring was lying on a bluff overlooking the community of Senat Hills when he felt a sudden pain in his right leg, sparked a muffled cry. Looking down at his leg he half-expected to see a gaping hole in his calf but the leg was unblemished. Muttering he shook his head and shifted positions. Leg must have cramped up from laying on it so long, he thought. He was surveying the town of Senat Hills checking out the situation before he decided whether or not to attempt to go to the mayor's house. The streets were empty but there was enough signs of life in the houses to indicate that somebody at least was living there. The only problem was finding out which house was the mayor's. His people were unofficially at war with these people and his face was fairly well-known. It would hardly do for him to be knocking on doors asking for directions. Then he noticed a sign sitting beside a slightly larger than average house. Focusing his electrobinoculars on the sign he read aloud.

"Mayor's Residence."

<i>"Well that's easy enough,"</i> thought Dennis. Within minutes he was in his landspeeder and beginning a slow, normal approach to the city. At the last second he pulled up the hood of the cloak he was wearing to conceal his tell-tale head horns. If the Senat couldn't see the placement of his horns they would have no way of knowing whether he was Senat, Drell or one of the other sub-species of Zabrak.

As his landspeeder proceded threw the town he noticed that it wasn't as deserted as it appeared at first glance. There was steady foot traffic along the streets and he didn't receive a second glance from the residents of the town hustling and bustling along, doing their normal daily tasks.

He stopped his landspeeder in an alleyway behing the mayor's house and preceded to the front door on foot. He reached out and rung the bell and a great clang sounded throughout the house. Presently the door was answered by a smiling female zabrak.

"Yes?" she asked enquiringly.

"I'm here to see the mayor," Dennis allowed deciding to play it cautious.

"Oh," said the woman smiling. "You must be the representative from the herdsmen. Do come in."

Dennis nodded his head in thanks and followed the women into the house and found himself in a great hallway all done up in white and gold. It lent a majestic air to the house and the whole town, imbuing a tiny town with a majestic almost royal air. The woman led Dennis through a small door and into a warm comfortable study. Motioning Dennis to a chair she promptly departed the study and closed the door behind her.

Dennis sat there patiently on the chair wondering how long it would be untill the mayor came to talk to him. Presently Dennis heard steps and the door opened revealing a corpulent Zabrak. Smiling the Zabrak extended his hand to Dennis who instead of taking it just stood up and lowered his hood. The mayor gave a little gasp and then his smile vanished quicker than ice on Tatooine...

"Captain, I think you want to see this," the report, low and filled with urgency came from an officer that Marth identified as being the comm officer.

Captain Lazare, who was back on duty, strode over to the comm officer's station and looked over her shoulder at the image that was displayed on the main screen. The image showed a fire burning with what appeared to be a news reporter standing in front of the image. Already the reporter's usually perfect face was beginning to be smudged with soot. At the bottom of the screen a scrolling message kept repeating.

<i>Breaking News: President Zortik Herring was assassinated one hour ago by the forces of the Senat. The Senat used smuggled in fighters to kill the President, his wife as well as thousands of others. The Government Air Force was destroyed while it was still on the ground. The whereabouts of Dennis Herring, the Presiden't son are unknown though he is presumed dead since his shuttle went missing over Senat space earlier this morning.</i>

"Son of a bitch!" Lazare swore. "He was our best bet for a solution to this crisis, and know he's dead while we sat here complacent." Lazare then turned to Marth and saluted him. "Sir! Requesting permission to send down fighters and begin to land troops on Iridonia."

"Denied Captain," Marth said curtly. "We can't begin any military operations until this crisis is resolved or given permission by both parties. My question is how they managed to get any fighters past our blockade," he said pensively.

"They must have smuggled them in before we arrived," the Captain quickly replied.

"Maybe," said Marth. "But it doesn't matter. All we can do is sit up here and hope that there are better more responsible souls down there."

"Yes sir," Lazare replied slowly.