It was a sight to behold, one of the many awe inspiring sights in the galaxy. Raleck stared out the viewport at the Capital of the ancient Kingdom of Cron, Chandaar, as its brightly lit cities light up a darkened side. Approaching from the night side of the planet, which was currently rotated away from the sun, the planet was shiluetted against a backdrop of tits primary, yet huge luminous blotches kept the the planets surface dotted with light, the many cities of the 'Jewel of the Tion', providing the sparkle and shine in the darkness of space. Chandaar, like many most of the core world of the Crone Mandate was heavily populated, providing the sector with plenty of able bodies to mine resources, build vessels and carry arms. These traits had allowed the Cron Mandate to survive for hundreds, even thousands of years, totally independent and self suficent- untill now at least. Raleck, for some reason, held a resentment that 'his' kingdom was a vassl of another foriegn power.

Appraoching the planet, Raleck's vessel was shifted among a huge procession of other vessels, which were being funneled into several approach corridord by Cron Defense vessels, and a few Black Dragon vessels which were in the system. The reason for the heavy security was simple, the King of Cron, the ruler of all the Mandate, was holding a grand gala to commemerate the start of his 25 year of rule, and according to the rumor mill, name his eventual successor. Such an event was drawing hundreds of thousands from across the Mandate, and the ships were pouring in to swell the already large population of the Jewel.

Raleck had been surprised to have been summoned. Recently sent off to Corvis Minor III, after a disagreement over policy with the King, being summoned back as a guest of honor had mildly surprised Raleck. He was one of the King's relatives, through a complex web of marrage and blood, and basically knew the King as his 'uncle' though he was more likley a cousin. Whatever his relation, it was known to be relativly close, and therfore he could not be shunned by the King, even if they had had a scrap over policy. Of course, the King may have completly forgotten about the incident, considering his full plate of issues, and perhaps was ready to accept Raleck back into the fold on Chandaar.

Not that Raleck would necessarily accept- he was actually begginning to like his position in the Cron navy, though the remotness of his assignment did dampen hsi joy. Of course, pehaps he could be transfered into the Chandaar defensive fleet, and have the best of both worlds. It would be nice.

Of course, at the pace things were progressing, he would never reach the surface of Chandaar. After recent waves of terrorist attacks and suprise assualts, the King was sparing no expense on security, and was supposed to have issued an edict that customs officals or fleet officer would be held directly responsible for any security breeches. Thus, the progression of ships through the corridors was heart wrenchingly slow.

He is the King, of course, he should be worried.

Maybe Corvis Minor would was a better place after all...

Waiting, waiting.

What could possibly be taking them so long?

The thought seemed to pop up every 5 minutes or so, reinforced by the ardously slow processions of vessels outside in thh void of space. The stars twinled a bit in the backround, but Raleck had watched them for far, far,far too long. It was getting ridiculous; Raleck was sure his ship did not advance forward at all for over 20 minutes! No explination was offered, just a silent procession as Chandaar defense fighters and customs vessels weaved in and out, among the many vessel crowding the few space lanes left open to normal traffic. Raleck had taken the time to brush up on his Dejarik, and contemplate thoughts, his own views, ideas and dreams and the universe in general.

Having successfuly allowed himself to be decimated by the computer several times, Raleck decided to leave the board game aside for a while and give up the ghost, he was by no means a skilled dejarik opponent. The nuances of the game, while easily visible to him, were difficult to grasp, to even expereinced players, and often little known or archaic rules were used against him to great effect- its easy to beat someone when they don't know what your doing. Of course, he attributed much of his losing ways to being too easily distracted. He needed to see the results happening quickly, rather than look at things in the long run. Thus, he was always falling into traps and cursing himself for not being more patient. Still, patientce grows with age, and Raleck wa by no stretch of the imagination old. Confident of himself, he ooften rushed into things and quite sure of himself, though he was slowly outgrowing those traits with every beating he took- and not just on a dejarik board.

He sat in silence, for awhile, staring out at the processin of ships, which was slowly moving again. His already extensive knowledge of ship classes and desgins was going to be greatly increased by this trip, as he looked out and stared at the various rare and unusual ships which joned in among the stock vessel common in this sector of space. Lumbering Bulk Cruisers, frieghters of every make and modl from Aqualish junks to YT models and everythign in between. Many of the ships seemed cobbled together, some of them appeared as if they should never had been flying, and others made Raleck wonder how the craft ha made it out of the atmoshpere. On the other hand, many of the vessel seemed in an almost unheard of state of readiness or polish- like they had been dressed up to impress the king, or his srvants as they prepared to come to the grand gala.

Raleck hadn;t had time to fix up his personal transport before being summouned- he been so worried the king might change his mind that he had jumped in almost immediatly and was putting in hyper coordinates before he had even revved up the engine. It seemed however, his haste was not going to pay off. The thought suddenly struck his as to what was cordoning off the rest of Chandaar, leaving only the few space lines open to traffic. Squinting, then conulting his sensor it appeared most of the planet was enshrouded by mines, of what make or model he could not determine, but definatly dangerous space minesfields. The Jewel of Tion obviously was something of enough importance to be cordoned away in a saftey deposit box for safekeeping.

Fr a second he almost thought about pulling out of the space line and making a daring, holomovie like run through the mins toward the planet. he might have done it too, if not for the fact he had a large chance of death, and that even if he suirvived such an ordeal, it was likley to get him court martialed and in REAL trouble with the royal court. Besides the more mature growing voice inside his head told him such a rash action would make him seem young and childish, an image he was hoping to shed, sub-consioucly so his opinions and ideas would be taken more seriously.

Thus, with a small sign he resigned himself to the wait. The line was slowly starting to speed up, and there appeared to be some hope for actually making it to the surface of Chandaar before the gala had actually begun. His hopes rekindled as several large transports passed through in rapid succession, Raleck quickly manipulated his pilots controll, pushing forward on the yoke and easing his craft forward toward the now vacant spot ahead of him. With any lck he would'nt have to eb searched, and once he got past the checkpoint he could sail free down to the planet that was the head center, the nerve control unit of the Cronese Mandate. The planet was glistening, rotating slowl, its brilliant cities staring up at Raleck invitingly. Raleck had always felt the planet was his world, one he would some day run as a royal administartor. Most boys hated their orginal home and wished to explore but Raleck loved the busy, nosiey Capital of the Cron. He was looking forward to ebing back on it.

His true home.

He wondered if he would get to talk to his "Uncle" before the gala. If he did would he remember the scrap they had had before he had been penned of to the navy? what would he do if he did? Was he still angry?

raleck doubted it. The King could hardly stay mad at him for a simple opinion- in fact he probably wasn't even mad in the first place- he just needed to get Raleck out of his hair whil he complete the deal with the Black dargon Representatives. Of course, his 'Uncle' was somewhat upredictable at time. Maybe he was still holdin out on a grudge? The thought worried Raleck.

Without anew running threw his mind, Raleck's vessel lurched forward, that much closer to Chandaar.

Zonama Sekot.

The pale cloaked menace stood alone on the stone balcony overlooking the rocky canyons and the hills beyond. For the last few moments, he had watched the final glow of the setting sun turn the world a brief, shimmering pink. As soon as the molten ball had disappeared, though, the sky had turned several shades of red, from a light shade to a deep crimson. The colors layered themselves one on top of the other, so it was impossible to discern where one began and another ended. And then a light dust storm came again.

With a parting glance toward the twinkling lights of the Black Dragon Empire garrison off to the east, the Supreme Commander of the Imperium's armies returned inside, where he brushed at his pale cloaks furiously, as though their exposure to the abrupt shower of dust had somehow sullied them beyond hope. He smoothed down the long fabric and stood with his metal spine at ramrod attention.

General Grevious was one of those rare individuals who derived great pleasure from his work. Finding those sensitive to the Force, recruiting them to the Imperium, or destroying those who resisted their faith, were his topmost priorities, and they also gave him the greatest joy. The droid general was very good at his vocation, and he always looked as though he was enjoying a private joke when he was at his busiest. This twisted happiness had, over time, etched its mark on its biomechanical face in the form of the faintest crinkles near the outer edges of his serpent-looking eyes. Other than that, the skin behind the pale-armored face mask was mostly unlined. The General might have been thirty, he might have been fifty.

When he was satisfied that he looked properly groomed, General Grevious moved out into the hallway. He padded silently across the plush, black-trimmed maroon carpeting that lined the wallkway. It was so thick, he barely heard the MSE-6 that almost scurried past his clawed, mechanical feet. The tiny, black, rectangular droids littered the General's castle, as they did so many of the Farfalen starships and ground installations about Zonama Sekot.

There was no one else in the corridor, and he continued to revel in the quiet luxury of his private castle. His home for now upon this world was calmly greenish, with areas of rolling plains broken up by deep canyons and rocky hills. General Grevious found the view soothing, and he had chosen this location for just that effect.

Since establishing this castle as the military headquarters to the Black Tion Cluster within the Black Dragon Empire, his plans had little trouble over on Chandaar and had seen no sign of any Tion rebel interference until a few days ago, when contact with Lt. Cmdr. Kix Davin and Zem Renneyn had suddenly vanished and it left him unaware to what was happening. And General Grevious made it his business to know. The Farfalen commander, Ram Jorged, had pledged and proven his loyalty many times as his personal overseer to the Chandaar takeover. But it irked the cyborg general that he had not bothered to attempt to reestablish contact or to impose any sign of what had happened. If he was truly that loyal, then why no update on his servants? Or the takeover? Was the communications knockout an outcome of Chandaar's king exposing the Imperium's attack? Could it be the Tion rebellion had sabotaged the mission? These questions nagged at the General during the darkest hours of the night.

Rounding a corner, General Grevious arrived at the entrance of a cavernous, domed antechamber, large enough to hold several BDE garrisons comfortably. Like the hallway that led up to it, the chamber was composed entirely of mottled pink-and-crimson stone. Hanging along the walls and from the curved ceiling were banners of maroon and black, like the rugs that carpeted the myriad hallways in the castle. Cylindrical bronze lamps hung down, casting shining puddles of light on the polished floor. Along the far wall, two of the Black Dragon Claw's Drhazi Daemuns, draped entirely in crimson capes over their metal bodies, stood as sentries by the door the General knew led to his personal chambers. Like avenging spirits, the guards remained steadfast in their duty, not moving a muscle. The vast corridor was not entirely devoid of movement as a Farfalen officer approached.

The commander of Zonama Sekot's planetary forces, Arch Pemk, bowed to his superior. "General Grevious, transmission is awaiting in your chambers. It is Captain Ram Jorged of the 9th Fleet. He has entered Chandaar's space."

"Rise, Commander," General Grevious ordered in a deep, mechanical voice, his orders punctuated by his unmistakable dark stare. "Rise and walk with me into my chambers. You will observe my transmission."

Pemk rose gracefully as he had knelt and resisted the urge to clasp his hands together in nervousness, refusing to appear foppish before the droid General. The Farfalen officer straightened his back a bit more, but still had to look up at the cybernetic being who stood over him. The pair entered the chambers and a clawed metal finger rose from his pale cloak. The holoprojector suddenly hummed to life and the image began to flicker as the transmission beamed itself in after decryption.

After a few moments of silence that were distinctly uncomfortable for the commander who stood by his superior, General Grevious addressed the hologram. "Yes, Captain Jorged?"

"General Grevious," the image of the captain flickered, "our fleet has emerged from hyperspace for some time, but there has been some delay in the subjection. It seems the king of Chandaar has taken the liberty to attempt to blockade all transmissions from his planet. Our covert forces have successfully knocked out the communications array on the surface." He straightend his pose. "I do apologize for the delay in relaying this information to you. Zem Renneyn and Lt. Cmdr. Kix Davin have been accounted for on the surface."

"Good." Grevious replied. "And what of Captain Kradesh? What is his progress with his uncle?"

"Unknown, sir," the Captain answered. "Transmissions to his ship have faltered. I suspect his negotiations with the King of Chandaar have failed. There has been no word from him for the past fourty-eight hours."

"Unfortunate." Grevious spoke through his pale mask. "Unfortunate, but not unexpected. If this is the case, then I see no choice but to proceed with the attack."

"Yes, sir," Captain Jorged replied, his image flickering again.

"The order is given, Captain," he commanded. "Begin the attack. Commence landing your troops and forces on the surface."

The image nodded. "General, there is also the concern of the minefield surrounding the planet. Our covert forces have brought down the mine's network, but the risk of detonation is still high. As well, the traffic lanes are filled with freighters and ships attending the king's gala."

"That does not concern me, Captain," Grevious hissed. "It is apparant the king is not interested in submitting to our faith, therefore we will take the planet for ourselves and convert his people to our cause. Begin the attack. Leave no one alive who dare to resist us."

"And what of Captain Raleck? What if he is found?" the Captain addressed.

"Then it is unfortunate he did not complete his mission in time. Dispose of him and his uncle."

"Yes, sir," Jorged quickly saluted and the holograph vanished.

General Grevious turned to his commander at his side. "Inform Administrator Sully Anre on Argai that the attack begins..."

In orbit above Chandaar...

Admiral Maximillian Anen patrolled the busy area of the Bulwalk battlecruiser's bridge, as the crew stations by the command walkway continued to receive more updates from the king's gala, and space traffic coming and going from the surface of Chandaar. Reading each report, the results were not as to par as he expected. There were more reports of unrest and the rumours of BDE sabotage on the surface were becoming more frequent with each update. The Admiral of the HRH Chandaar's Fleet debated in his head whether the Black Dragon Empire's presence here to observe the king's gala was nothing more than a prelude for a sneak attack. Then again, this was the least of his worries. The organization of space traffic was causing more headaches than he wanted. Everyone who was important in the Cronese Mandate was here and the gala hosted in the capital of the ancient Kingdom of Cron was something not to be fouled up by cluttered traffic.

So he would see. The Admiral continued his inspection of the bridge as he paced himself quietly about.

Along the curved bulkhead, near a small computer terminal, two of the king's guards stood at the exit of the bridge. Unlike the Admiral, these troopers were relaxed in their stance. One leaned casually against the wall-- no easy feat, given the fact that he was clad from head to toe in sparkling silver armor. His colleague held only a slightly more militaristic pose. Neither man faced their superior, so both were unaware of his presence. Gliding over slightly, the Admiral could just hear their quiet conversation.

"I tell you," the one against the bulkhead spoke with a low voice to the other, "if they aren't going to do something about this situation down on the surface, we're going to have more trouble brewing. The communications array has been knocked out. They say it was pirates, but I am thinking it may have been the BDE."

"It's only been a few hours after the incident," the other replied with doubt in his voice. "I don't think they even collected any evidence yet. The fire is still raging after the explosion."

"I'm telling you," the first argued, "that if we don't send down another garrison by now, we're going to lose control down there and then the King's gala may be threatened. And that should tell you something if the BDE doesn't help in this incident."

"What do you mean?" his comrade responded, and even Anen could hear the unease in the man's voice.

The first guard shifted his stance slightly. "I've heard rumours that the Black Dragon Empire may be planning a sneak attack. I think Anen is hiding that from us." His voice had dropped surprisingly low, considering he had to speak through his helmet. "I think the king is hiding many things."

"Talk like that will get you imprisoned," his friend warned him.

"Or worse," Admiral Anen added in a gentle, melodic voice.

Both soldiers turned suddenly, clearly caught off guard. That was the technique the Admiral enjoyed the most: knock an opponent off balance and strike while he was teetering.

"Sir, I-I didn't know you were here," the first stammered.

"Obviously," the Admiral replied easily, enjoying the man's apparent discomfort. He decided to let him squirm a moment longer and so remained silent, forcing the trooper to try to dig his way out of his shallow grave.

"I'm sorry, sir, I meant no disservice. I was just explaining my concerns to---"

"Don't bother trying to explain anything to me, trooper," Anen interrupted coldly. "I know exactly what you were trying to explain to your 'friend' here." He nodded to the other man. "You feel I am keeping things from you, keeping you in the dark so to speak?"

"It's just that--"

"It's just nothing," Anen warned him darkly, his facade of pleasantness a memory. "You know all that you need to know and nothing more or less, like the rest of us. To serve the Kingdom of Cron is to trust in its servants completely and question nothing."

The king's guards remained silent, and the Admiral knew they were both too frightened to speak. That fear warmed his cold heart. The corners of his thin lips twitched in growing pleasure. He relaxed his stance ever so slightly.

"But," he graciously allowed, "you do make a good point in your own simplistic fashion."

"Sir?" the second trooper asked, and Anen knew they were fishing for anything to redeem themselves.

"The war with the Imperium is far from over," he admitted. "We may not have the strength and the power to resist the Black Dragon Empire; that much is obvious. However, the King will be negotiating a pact with them after his commemoration, hence why this gala is being hosted here on Chandaar. When the pact is sealed and negotiations are completed, the Kingdom of Cron will forever be intact under the rule of our glorious King," the Admiral explained, momentarily caught up in his own fervor.

A bridge officer approached. "Admiral," he whispered with just the right amount of reverence. "Sir-- the Imperium's fleet are mobilizing their forces toward us."

He turned his head slightly in surprise to address the young Lieutanant. "Mobilizing? Against us? Are you sure your scopes are reading right?"

"Yes, sir." He nodded briskly, then look toward the viewports at the massive fleet of Farfalen, Tion, and Dameun battlecruisers changing course. The viewports did not lie. Instead of orbiting alongside the King's entourage, the battle fleet were now mobilizing in an attack formation against the royal fleet.

He turned back to the two guards and narrowed his eyes. "Since you both have so much free time on your hands to reflect, I will see about relocating you to a post that you will undoubtedly find more... challenging," he told them. "Perhaps somewhere at one of our gunner stations," he mused. "Report to your commander for new orders. Your tour of duty aboard this bridge is now over."

"Sir!" one of the officers called out from his station. "BDE fleet are powering up their shields and weapons! They're preparing to fire!"

The Admiral's jaw dropped. "Treachery! Raise our shields and power our weapons! Prepare to retali--"

"Sir! BDE fleet is attacking! They're firing--"

An explosion rocked the bridge where the Admiral and his crew were nestled, flinging comm officers and several of the king's guards into the air. Admiral Anen flew backward and slammed into the bulkhead, his entire body shuddering with the power of his hit. Blood and shrapnel rained around him. Smoke and dust rose, filling the bridge with a grainy darkness. He could hear nothing. With a shaking hand, he touched the side of his face. Warmth stained his cheeks and his earlobes. The ringing would start soon. The explosion was loud enough to affect his eardrums.

Emergency glow panels seared the gloom. He could feel, rather than hear, pieces of the bridge debris fall to the floor. A weapons officer had landed beside him, his head tilted at an unnatural angle. He grabbed his blaster. He had to get a message out. As well, he wasn't certain if the attack had compromised the hull and an air breach would be imminent. Whatever the outcome was, he had to make certain the King and Chandaar itself were informed of this attack. Sneak attack!

The force of the explosion had affected his balance. He crawled over bodies, some still moving, as he made his way to the comm station. The slightest movement made him dizzy and nauseous, but he ignored the feelings. He had to.

The Admiral reached the comm station. He used the remains of a desk to get to his feet. His white tunic was soaked in blood, sticky, and clinging to his skin. He held the blaster in front of him, wishing that he could hear. If he could hear, he could defend himself if the BDE had breached the ship.

His hand reached out to the panel and signalled headquarters. He spoke in brief sentences.

"Chandaar Central! Can you hear me?!"

"Admiral Anen?--What-- appened?--scopes--attack--BDE--" the comm clipped out.

"We are under attack. Treachery! Black Dragon Empire has betrayed us! We are under attack!" He rambled his words randomly, not able to hear the officer's responses through the comm.

"Admiral! Can--hear? BDE attacking surface! Send supp--ort."

More debris dropped from the bridge ceiling. He crouched, hands over his head to protect himself. Small pieces pelted him, and the floor shivered as large chunks of what was left of the bridge fell again. Dust rose, choking him. He coughed, feeling it, but not able to hear it.

Within an instant, the bridge of the battlecruiser which housed himself and his crew, and assigned to protect the planet of Chandaar had gone from a busy workstation to a charnel house.

"Battle stations!" he cried out over the sound of klaxons. "All personnel to battle stations!" He then slumped over the desk and slipped into the arms of death...

The battle had begun over the skies of Chandaar. Wing Commander Davin lead the dozen Deathgliders and three Kessel-class Pickets away from the broadside attack by the capital ships and turned his attention at the lead Bulwark battlecruiser which had been crippled by several volleys to its bridge.

"Head's up, Dragon Squadron, there's our target. Attack formation!" Davin switched to a standard operations channel and hailed the Bulwark.

"Attention on board the Bulwark. This is Commander Kix Davin of the Black Dragon Empire. Shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded."

If everything went as planned, the death commandos and Drhazi Dameuns in their assault shuttles would be docking onto their ship and secure the battlecruiser, once they crippled the engines. It would then be enough to assure the rest of Chandaar's fleet that surrender would be the better option if their flagship was taken.

"This is the captain of the Bulwark Chandaar's Jewel. Admiral Anen is dead, but I am still in charge of this ship. We will only surrender when our King orders us," came the reply.

"Captain, either you shut down your engines or we'll shut them down for you. Some of my gunners can pick flies off a bulkhead with their laser cannons." Well, it was possible, though he hadn't seen any of them shooting quite well during maneuvers. The Chandaar didn't know that.

The battlecruiser suddenly dropped several escape pods, speeded up, and turned to starboard. It was going to make a run for it.

Kix switched back to the tactical opchan. "Frak! Gotta do it the hard way, boys. Target the engines only! Jorged wants that flagship intact! If you aren't sure, don't take the shot-- we don't want to blow this baby up. Move in!"

The distance between Dragon Squadron and the battlecruiser decreased in a hurry. This was stupid; the battleship was heavily damaged and much slower than the Deathgliders. If they wanted to cook the captain, he was dinner-- and he had to know it.

The Bulwark tried to move at a right angle to the incoming fighters, but they were almost in range. Kix was in the lead; his ship was faster than the Pickets, and it would take only a couple of proton torpedoes to knock out the engines, assuming they had standard shields.

Another two seconds. His R7 astromech whistled. Kix didn't like what he heard. "Put it on HUD, Arseven."

Plates had slid back on the Bulwark to reveal hidden weapons.

"Head's up, everybody, this wounded Sandpanther still has teeth! He's got laser cannons fore and aft and what looks like missle launchers ventral and dorsal. Watch yourselves!"

Davin put his Deathglider into a sweeping turn as the flagship's port laser fired. The blast was close enough to scramble his comm.

The Bulwark's cannon found Dragon Four, and the ship blew apart. Frak! There must be some power behind those guns!

"Break off, circle, and regroup!" Kix called into his comm.

Two of the Kessel-class Pickets looped away in pretty good formation, Kix in his Deathglider in tandem with them. He was close enough to see several missle ports on top of the battlecruiser blow clouds of gas into space that crystallized and glittered under the local sun's light.

"He's got missles off!" Kix yelled.

"I got it," one of Kessel gunners called out from one of the Pickets. "I'll hammer those missles into scrap."

Kix watched the Picket roll and dive, and the Wyvern cannons began spewing coherent bolts of energy. Davin couldn't see the missle cloud, but he saw the gunner continuing his attack, saw the guns spraying their hardlight spears.

"Blast!" the gunner said over his comm. "I'm hitting some but they're too many of them!"

"Incoming!" Dragon Six yelled in his Deathglider. "Scatter!"

The four fighters tried to split up, separated like an opening fist.

Too late.

Several missles exploded among them, and when the blast cleared, all four Deathgliders, four pilots, were gone.

"I couldn't get all of them..." the Picket gunner said, his voice incredulous. "I couldn't."

Davin's anger swept over him as he put the Deathglider into a sharp and twisting turn. He headed right at the Bulwark. Five of his squadron had been destroyed, just like that. He ignored the energy beams stabbing at him. Ignored the astromech's cacophony of whistles and bleats, ignored everything but the engine compartment of the battlecruiser under his guns. Fired. Fired again and again. Saw the radiation absorbed by the shields, saw the green glow brighten. Saw the shields give away under his attack. Saw three of his proton torpedoes fly away at his target. Saw the engine compartment rupture, smoke, flash red and purple as his torpedoes killed it.

Kix veered off his fighter and switched channels. To the flagship, he said, "Your engines are dead, Captain, and that's what you and your crew will be if your fire another laser or missle, do you copy?"

A brief pause. "We copy."

"You are hereby considered prisoners of war of the Black Dragon Empire. Stand by to be boarded. If you value your lives, inform the rest of your crew not to interfere with the boarding of our troops. If anything happens to them, you will suffer the same fate. Do I make myself clear?" Davin spat out, the remainder of his Deathglider squadron quickly flanking the sides of the Bulwark, with the Kessel Pickets taking up the rear.

"Your orders are clear, we copy." The comm clipped out. He shook his head. The attack was a semi-success. He has lost five pilots because he was too cocky, too self-confident, and too certain the mission would be easy to accomplish because the ship was already crippled by its destroyed bridge. On some level, it made him angry. He should have known better. He hoped capturing that battleship was worth what it had cost to collect it. It had better be.

"Captain Jorged to Dragon Leader."

"Copy, Captain."

"Just got this in. The King of Chandaar has surrendered his forces to us. Stand down your position and escort our landing barges and dropships to the surface."

"Copy that. Ordering Dragon Squadron to the surface..."