“Your fear is not totally irrational,” spoke Lance Shipwright, rounding the corner ahead of Viryn Quell and Miette.

The Vice Commodore had not appeared alone, however; and was, in fact, at lead of an escort of some dozen or so armed and similarly equipped Delta unit androids. They appeared from before and behind the quickly moving pair, sequestering them between squads, front to back, and solid steel walls left to right. Though the order had not been given to brandish their side arms in any sort of directed or threatening manner it remained blaringly obvious, given the speed with which the androids arranged themselves, that the Delta units could easily bring their weapons to bare with incredible speed, doubtless. Their faces remained impassive, sublime, but there was no disputing the look in their synthetic eyes.

“Frankly I am shocked, Minister.” As he spoke the Vice Commodore moved towards the Minister of Ethics, keeping clear his amicable intentions, he raised his hands, palms up. “There is no need for you to threaten me, sir. I respect the laws of this Coalition and if it is my arrest you wish, you may have it. I will accompany you back to the Government proper, as your hostage of course, and make evident my case to authorities higher then your own.”

The Deltas rearranged themselves now, lining the hallway towards the transport to which the Minister was bound.

“It is clear to me that you are a man who dislikes ultimatums, no matter how genuflect, unless delivered from your own lips. Your response proves that. To that end I am going to give you the chance to deliver your own and I am going to make it painfully obvious what that ultimatum is to be.”

“In my opinion you have abused your position of authority and I will not allow you to continue that abuse. You will not return home sowing seeds among your allies, greasing the wheel against me, and issue warrants for my arrest. You will take me now and you will face the repercussions of that action, for I will be there when you make known your accusations of my alleged complicity. I will be there to defend myself and to call your own abilities into question.”

“I am not an illegal dictator, Mr. Quell. I am a facilitator. You will never see the ‘justice’ you seek, only unrest.”

“You have not done your job here today.”

The Vice Commodore crossed his arms over his chest. How he had managed to keep the emotion out of his voice and his features nonplused, he did not know. A strange calm had come over him. This could end only one of two ways and he had come to realize that no matter how he might try he would never be able to force that choice in his decision. All he could do now was to play his final card, to call Viryn Quell, throw down his cards and hope he came out on top.

“You have accused me of doing a thing that you obviously do not understand. You have taken a microcosm and expanded it to fill and consume your whole perspective. Doubtless you had me pegged as some sort of megalomaniac long before our actual meeting. You claim the title Minister of Ethics, yet you only apply those ethics that suit your ends.”

“I do not rule the Gestalt Colonies in any way shape or form that is left to the Provisional Government and the Colonial Defense Force. I am only responsible for the conduct of Colonial Technologies and Galactic Technologies alike.” Lance sensed that Viryn Quell was about to speak, to interrupt him. He cut him off and continued on. “When your government failed to concern itself with the welfare of the expanding workforce employed by Galactic Technologies it was left to me, as Chief Executive Officer of Galactic Technologies, to explore other options. As it became clear that the potential expansion would grown beyond myself, I began a process of outsourcing through the Galactic Coalition of Planets among other sources, all legitimate.”

“It is true; I may have breeched the original terms of my operating contract in some regard. To assuage that, as observed by your own assistant, I have bent over backwards to assure you of our honest intent. However, that contract was not between the Gestalt Colonies and the Galactic Coalition, but rather between myself and the Coalition Intelligence Bureau…” He let that float a moment, let Quell draw his own conclusions. “The results of my actions, however; are evident.”

He waved a hand around the station, “And none of this is complicit.”

“Of course,” he leveled eyes with Viryn Quell, “you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

“So take me away now, take me to account for what I have done. Just know this, in removing me now, at the key developmental stage, you are going to create a civil unrest which you, nor anyone near by, is equipped to deal with… no one, except the Empire of course.”

Vice Commodore Shipwright looked between the Minister and his aide, and then turned his gaze back in the direction from which they had come. “I see only two choices for myself. Correct me if I am wrong.”

Surrounded by armed guards, with their self-righteous creator insinuating all manner of flaws on Viryn's part, felt somewhat nostalgic for the Minister. It reminded him of his days dodging the broad strokes of galactic powers that percieved him as an irritaiting gnat amongst giants. It was also unsettling, for as he recalled, the one who swung the broadest yet most deadly strokes against his kind had been the Empire.

No one, except the Empire of course. Lance had said that mere moments ago. For every switch Lance hit correctly, he pressed another of Viryn's buttons. The impassive looks of the Deltas only inferred the possibility of violence, but by this point Viryn was only looking for inferred actions - was Lance leaning towards the Empire? How could he possibly say he just managed an out-of-the-way technology research group when he had been the founder and creator of the colonies? And weren't these guards simply proof of the span of his abilities? All of these things set up a forest of red flags in the Minister's mind that no number of soothing words could settle.

Lance was still waiting for a reply.

Mustering as much smoothness and calm that he could, Viryn approached Lance so that they were eye to eye. "All right, I will. You have three options. The first one is have your guards shoot me, use your sway with the colonies - which you do have, be honest there - to pretend I was never here, and I'll be consigned to a Hyperspace accident.

"The second is to keep up this 'I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm perfectly legitimate, but if you so much as touch me then the shit's going to hit the fan' act of yours, which will end with me going back to the Coalition, presenting my findings as proof of unethical business practice, and getting your ass dragged back to a hearing.

"The third is admit that you're the one who's really running the show here and that you've overstepped your bounds, without all this "Civil Unrest", "Imperial Intervention", and "Secret deal with the CIB" bullshit. We kick you around for a while before we balance your books, taking into account what's really ours. Then, we'd be happy to talk about signing you up for the Coalition." Viryn crossed his arms, but maintained threatening eye-contact. "The third one's the only one that keeps you in power for the long-run. Otherwise this whole thing comes crashing down on your head. The Coalition doesn't take kindly to abuse of trust, and I don't remember when your 'outsourcing' problems turned into inventing a nation to work for you."

Without even waiting for a response, he turned away and walked towards his shuttle. A fierce glare at the deltas managed to part them. Miette followed in his wake.

Upon reaching the shuttle, Viryn turned to look at Lance - flanked as he was by legions of loyal guards that he had built himself. "I'm not as big an asshole as this in person, you know, but come on. You built an entire country using the Coalition as a springboard, it doesn't matter if you're a visionary or a despot, people can't just run around fouding shit with our money and people. I'll be back in twenty four hours, Lance, and we can either talk about what you really did wrong here, or you can keep going on about your 'workforce' and 'other options' and the sweet deal you'll give us on liquidated stock or something."

With that, Viryn boarded his ship. Miette seated herself next to him. "Good job," she said. "I always knew you were good at compromises."

Viryn let out a rasping breath. "Holy shit, what do you think he was doing with those androids? I thought we were dead. Who the fuck does he think he is?"

Miette rolled her eyes at the irony of that last sentance. "Viryn, don't you think you were a little condescending? Couldn't you have, you know, reached out a little more? Building bridges and understanding and all that? He wasn't hostile or anything."

Viryn grumbled, and shook his head. "No, I've seen men like Lance before, the Empire's full of 'em - and he brought them up enough to make me think maybe that's where he learnt his act. He says everything as though it's totally reasonable and harmless, but it's laced with comments about his own role, Imperial sympathies, the power of his colony... If he came out and admitted to being the grand master of the colony, I'd trust him more. Dictators are easier to deal with than puppet-masters."

He let out another sigh, and got cozy in his seat. "No, trust me, although we could have worked with Lance, he isn't the sort of guy the Coalition should be working with."

The ship took off, putting space quickly between the Uniform and itself. Despite his outward confidence, Viryn found he was able to digest the events of the meeting better in silence, and began probing if things really were as bad as he thought. Lance's allegations still rang in his ears, but before he could get any further insight, the exhausted Minister drifted off to sleep.

Following the swift and final departure of Ethics Minister Viryn Quell a silence descended upon Lance Shipwright so deep and brooding that even his Delta-unit androids perceived his dramatic emotional change. For a few long moments that seemed to stretch on to infinity he just stood stock still, staring at the spot where the Ministers shuttle had previously sat.

His fingers twitched and worked themselves into frenzy at his side.

He had played every piece as best as he knew how, he had calculated and predicted the outcome to within a reasonable margin. Whatever happened, he had told himself, he would come out with a result that, if nothing else, could be prepared for once predicted. Somehow he had totally failed to see this, to foresee Viryn Quell pronounce him a criminal and disappear in a huff. To say nothing of the damage control he would have to play in the public relations department once news got out that the Ethics Minister had so blatantly insulted the Colonies.

Lance Shipwright was thinking furiously, absorbed in deep contemplation when Colonial Minister Ramos appeared from no where and roused him from his brooding. She had booked a shuttle to the Uniform as soon as word had come down that Viryn Quell had diverted from the schedule. Clearly Paula was distressed to have missed the Minister.

“Lance?”

“Paula,” returned the Vice Commodore. “Politics truly is your arena.”

“Did it go that badly?” The Colonial Minister looked worried, not at the outcome but at the mood it had left Lance in. “Tell me what happened.”

“He declared me a criminal and stormed off in a huff.”

“You did everything we discussed?” She asked. “What happened with the negotiations?”

The two started back towards his offices. A detachment of Colonial Security officers had appeared with the Minister. They fell into line with the mixed unit and trailed the pair back through the corridors of the Uniform.

“There were no negotiations.”

“It cannot be legal,” she declared. “This is not the Empire.”

“It’s not the Colonies he’s after, it’s me personally.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Oh.”

“It cannot be legal. My office will contact the Government proper as soon as humanly possible. Trust me on this Lance; I do not think you have anything to worry about. I think someone is trying to put the fear on you.”

He stopped them and leveled his eyes. “How is that?”

“He did not level any formal charges, and he did not come with a cadre of armed guards to take you away. Did he? No, this is a game I think. The Higher Ups unleashed a wild dog hoping to rattle your cage, to remind you…”

She did not finish the sentence; instead she just trailed off and moved a hand around the corridor.

“All this,” he nodded.

She agreed, “All this.”

Now, Viryn was awake, and he was moving. "Transmit the coordinates for the rendezvous point and get us into hyperspace," he said to the pilot. "I don't want to be in this system again until we've got the people to arrest and detain Lance Shipwright."

"Yessir," the pilot replied, as he hauled back on the controls. Soon the stars turned into streaks of light as the Minister's ship left for his rendezvous with armed forces.

Miette joined Viryn's side, the perfect expression of pouting frustration painted on her features. She seemed intent to reason with him one last time. "Come on, Viryn! It doesn't have to be like this - what happened to you? What happened to your trust?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Viryn growled, keeping his eyes front. "Not only that, but since when did my business become your business? You're my secretary, Miette, not my goddamn conscience."

"So it's true, this is on your conscience?"

"What, you're a psychologist now too?" Viryn snapped, storming to his room and slamming the door. Miette sighed as she watched him go, and followed slowly.

She found him filing through a stack of datapads in the cramped quarters, each one discarded briefly after he scanned them. "Maybe it's because you see a little bit of yourself in him?" she suggested.

Viryn didn't snap this time, simply pushing the datapads away. "Miette. You remember how we survived for so long back in my underground journalist days? It's because I trusted my instincts, had some good luck, and said whatever I had to to get out of a dangerous situation. If Lance is like me, that's all the more reason not to trust him. If he's lying, then he's hiding his intentions and it's my job to keep people like him out of the Coalition. If he really believes in the ridiculous world he seems to live in, which is possibly scarier. He's... he's a scientist and he built a country? Doesn't that sound wrong to you?"

Miette sighed, and sat down next to Viryn. "Why? So what if he built his own country? It's a big galaxy... you could do it if you wanted to. Anyone could. Just pick a planet and stake a claim, right? Maybe he's just dedicated."

For a minute, internal conflict was evident in Viryn - that in itself was a worrying thing. A man like him cannot afford internal conflict or uncertainty, both of which were signs of weakness. A moment's weakness for a man who lives by his words, wit, and reputation meant death. In the end, however, he rose to his feet resolved.

"No, Miette. Not this time. No matter wether his intentions were good or not, or wether his colonies are a threat to the Coalition, what he did and what he's become are dangerous. He used our governemnt to make his, he founded a country which he has more or less total control of, he's a loose cannon. I can't let someone like that wander freely in the Coalition."

"I once knew a guy," said Miette. "A bit of a loose cannon himself. A real danger to the government - lots of people felt he couldn't be left to wander freely on their worlds. Then a big grey giant saw the good in him, and gave him a job. Sound familiar?"

A bitter look appeared on Viryn's face as he left his room and returned to the cockpit.

From there, he watched as Coalition ships began to appear from Hypserspace. "It's time."

“He has sequestered himself away. He has been isolated from outside contact verging on twenty five standardized hours,” stated the Delta unit keeping vigil post outside the main doors of the Vice Commodores private quarters aboard the RDS Uniform. It turned its perfectly formed amber eyes over the crowd that had assembled at Shipwrights door. The human replica android added, “And your clustering about his door stoop will not endeavor to resolve the solution with any additional expediency.”

The accumulated mob consisted primarily of division heads and group supervisors. These men and women had, by and large, been waiting patiently for the Vice Commodore to emerge from his office since his initial disappearance following the incident with the Ministry of Ethics. Though the Delta units had been attempting to discourage the gathering through colorful word play and careful interposing… and it had proven thus far successful. A security team had arrived hours ago though without and clear directive and as such found themselves milling about among the others.

“Look Rubik,” said one of the division advisory partners; an aged man with a stick figure and long white mane of unkempt hair. More vocal then the rest, he had been a presence since the onset. “I respect what you’re trying to do but we have a right to answers.”

“I understand your desire for information, sir. I am sure that Mr. Shipwright will be with you directly,” the Delta lied. Along with its cadre of orange-clad, jump-suited technicians it had been using the same line over and over. It was getting old.

The Delta, Rubik Rubicon, and his detachment of a dozen other units were attached directly to the office of the Vice Commodore which went some distance in explaining their loyalty in this matter but not enough to assuage the concerns of the humans involved. For their part however; the others were trying to test the androids resolve. Few among them knew the truth regarding the Deltas, and those that did had made themselves scarce.

The human to whom Rubicon had spoken was one Soda Weber, a renaissance man of sorts who had split his life between arenas political and technological. An immigrant worker, one of the many hundreds of thousands of displaced persons who had found shelter in the Colonies, Soda Weber had spun himself into a position of power among the working class… of whom there were many among the colonists. Something of a guerilla unioneer, Weber enjoyed flouting his strength, albeit limited, wherever possible. Weber was good people; when cutting through the thick he had revealed himself as a man who genuinely cared for the people he represented, a man with a honest desire to see the wishes of his constituents realized. His presence was a likely indicator of unrest among that demographic.

“Listen to me, Rubicon. People are worried. The envoy arrived, everyone knows it. It was covered by CGNews, the parade and everything…”

“I am well aware of the situation, sir,” interrupted the Delta.

“Well, la tee duh,” the man rolled his eyes. “What you’re probably not aware of is the situation in the Seven Cities. A million people lined the streets for the parade… Now what?”

“I see your point, Soda.”

The voice of Lance Shipwright appeared from a here to for hidden alcove. “But I would imagine you are being at least mildly pejorative. All the same, I thank you for your intentions.”

As one, the crowd turned towards the voice. Having emerged from his chambers via an alternative access he had effectively put himself behind the majority of those assembled, between the hallway exit and the body of the antechamber itself. Typically, he had dressed in a near-military style outfit; a uniform of subtle black and purple hues adorned with the emblem of the Gestalt Colonies upon his left breast. A white crackerjack sat atop his head.

“Also, I apologize to you all and those you have come to speak for. You have every right to the answers you deserve and I shall not be tetchy in this manner any further. “

Soda Weber threw his voice into the tumult of questions that made to bombard Lance. The Vice Commodore simply raised a hand to silence them. “If you will all bare with me for a moment longer and retire to the press hall, I have prepared a media release.”

He smiled, bowed and departed with the words, “Thank you.”

Just a few doors down and fifteen minuets later the same crowd had assembled in the press hall alongside an number of properly delegated news-people (most of whom had been given front row seats). The impromptu conference had been hastily assembled as indicated by those in attendance; many of whom had lingered on. Hasty though it was, this would speak directly to those who needed to hear it.

Vice Commodore Shipwright took to the stage, standing behind a podium bearing the crest of the Colonies. He unfolded his palms on the top of the wooden structure and looked out across the assembly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. You have waited this long and so I will not bore you with any further tedium. Getting right to the point…”

He inhaled a breath.

“Yesterday Viryn Quell, representative of the New Galactic Coalition of Planets and Minister of Ethics arrived as envoy to the Galactic Coalition. The purpose of his meeting, as this administration had been lead to understand, was to oversee and grant Coalition membership to you, the people of Gestalt. Unfortunately it seems apparent now that the goals of this administration and the goals of Viryn Quell met at a crossroads where-in a resolution was not forthcoming.”

“As you all doubtless know and witnessed live on CGNews, the Minister chose not to accept the warm greeting extended by the people of Gestalt and in stead proceeded directly to the RDS Uniform for the purposes of meeting directly with me.”

Lance paused as if preparing the next statement.

“The content of that meeting has been made available to the Provisional Government and Colonial Defense Forces alike, the further dissemination of that information will be conducted accordingly.”

“However; as Vice Commodore to the Gestalt Colonies and as facilitator to its growth, I feel a certain obligation to you, the people of Gestalt.” A sigh escaped his lips. “And to that end I am stepping down from my position…”

A gasp moved through the room. Again, Lance raised his hand for silence.

“My position as Vice Commodore compromises the Coalitions willingness to accept the Gestalt Colonies as a member nation. The Ministry of Ethics has leveled criminal accusations against me personally and until such time as those charges are addressed and properly resolved I cannot continue to facilitate the development of the Gestalt Colonies.”

“Furthermore, I am entering into a state of self-imposed house-arrest aboard the RDS Uniform until that time and until the Government of the Galactic Coalition provides reasonable explanations for the stance indicated by Viryn Quell with the authority of the Ministry of Ethics.”

Unable to stem the sudden noise, an ambient roar of questioning and complaining among those seated before the podium, Lance raised his voice above the din.

“The Gestalt Colonies cannot hope to survive in the current galactic climate without the support of a significant political entity such as the Galactic Coalition of Planets. I know there are those among you who speak of sovereignty and of independence free of galactic regimes, but to those people I would offer warnings of caution. The Colonies must become a member state within the Coalition and you will be unable to do so as long as there are issues of collusion and conspiracy ruminating. Having removed myself from the equation and made myself answerable to the accusations made evident by the Ministry of Ethics I hope to further prostrate myself before the powers that be in the hopes that you, the people of Gestalt will enjoy a bright, safe and insured future.”

“That is all for now, thank you.”

"Revision in ten," said the pilot, as he adjusted the shuttle's instruments. Viryn watched in brooding silence at the stars flitting past, a grim bent to his features.

With little fanfare or declaration, Coalition ships appeared in the Gestalt system, all manner of police and security officers in tow. At the forefront, Viryn's humble shuttle cut a surprisingly commanding figure, leading the advance towards the heart of the colonies.

Ignoring the quietly rousing Colony forces, Viryn directed his ship towards the Uniform, stopping well within sight of Lance's vessel. Without waiting for much response, Viryn lifted the comm unit to him and said "Lance Shipwright, you are under arrest by the authority of the Ministry of Ethics of the Galactic Coalition for conspiracy, misappropriation of government funds, unlawful colonization, and abuse of public trust. You can come quietly, or we will be obliged to remove you. You have the right to remain silent, for once in your life, and I suggest you use it."

With that, Viryn slammed the comm unit back on the dashboard and threw himself into the copilot's chair. "Let's see what he's going to do now."

"Uh... Viryn?" Miette had been in the back of the ship, but returned to the cockpit with a datapad in hand. "You might want to see this."

Viryn took the datapad and began to watch. He watched as Lance appeared for his press conference. He watched the man speak. He watched Lance finish. With great care, he put the datapad down.

After mulling it over for a moment, he knocked the datapad from the dashboard, sending it clattering into the wall. "Damnit!" he shouted, before rubbing his forehead. "What does that even mean? Where the hell do we stand?"

The pilot gave him a cautious sideways glance. "Should I call back our officers, sir?" The security vessels had encircled the Uniform, waiting attentively for the order to go in. Viryn just shook his head and sunk into his seat.

"It's got to be a trick... just a bluff to throw me off, or something." Scratching his head, Viryn kicked the dashboard and said "Fuck! I thought I had this guy figured out!"

"It's not too late," insisted Miette. "Just call the officers back, Viryn! You don't have to arrest Lance. Just walk away and show him you respect his good intentions."

Far from helping, this plea gave Viryn a wild eye, causing him to shout "The day I'm corrected by a talking typewriter is the day I suck down on a thermal detonator! Get out of my face!"

Shocked, Miette strode out of the room, slamming the cockpit door closed after her. After a few moments more of seething frustration, Viryn seemed to collapse in his chair. Again, he rubbed his hand against his forehead and sighed. "Send them in," he murmured to the pilot. "Get Lance out here, then we'll talk."

The smug, arrogant, self satisfied grin worn by Lance Shipwright, descending the umbilical between two armed Colonial honor guards (Commandos in ceremonial garb), was one he had crafted and practiced just for the Minister of Ethics, Viryn Quell. It was, in fact, quite rehearsed; he had been planning to unveil his shiny new shit-eating grin since his public announcement only days earlier. In truth the whole affair, the whole prepackaged deal had been set up to embarrass the over-eager Ethics Minister.

Their meeting could not have been better prepared for.

The doors of the Gestalt shuttle peeled open causing a momentary rush of air to rush out of the shuttle into the airlock shared by the two spacecraft. That gentle pressure exchange backwash tugged at the Vice Commodore's tunic and ruffled his hair. His hands, clasped in irons and held helplessly in front of him, Lance had removed all rank insignia from his uniform and donned a gray, dull toned suit that seemed to match the occasion perfectly. He had, purposely, gone without a shave for two days and was sporting a subtle brown stubble on his jaw. The two Colonials in escort were similarly dressed to down play their generally imposing nature.

A flash shot through the corridor created between the two vessels, and then another.

Vice Commodore Lance Shipwright, deposed, had the foresight to enlist the media to aide his cause. A cadre of fully half a dozen reporters, all human and male, save for one elegant looking female to the rear. Each one brandished a plethora of recording devices intended to document the occasion. They swarmed, as people of the media often do, down the ramp connecting the two shuttles.

It was Lance Shipwright who spoke first, and he said, quite simply, “Minister Quell, as you have requested; I willingly give myself into your custody under the authority granted you by the New Galactic Coalition of Planets.”

He held his manacled hands out towards the Minister before allowing his gaze to meander over the security detail that Quell had apparently required. A dismayed look passed across Shipwrights features, he frowned at older, more senior politician.

“Indeed,” came the voice of Colonial Minister Ramos from the rear of the formation. “Though the legality of your maneuver is yet to be ratified, Minister.”

A slick, black uniform accentuated her curves and hugged her hips as, like a slinky, deadly predator, Paula Ramos made her way to the forefront. She placed herself directly between Lance and Viryen and, hands on hips, fixed him with her most pen nitrating stare. A professional dominatrix would have been hard pressed to beat that glare. It bored through the hearts of men.

“Whether or not the Galactic Coalition of Planets chooses to recognize our Charter,” her icy, cobalt blue eyes moved across the assembly. Pausing just long enough to allow the reporters to snap a few choice pictures, she continued, “Your actions will of course be called into question alongside those of the Vice Commodore. But for now, let us get this pony show done with. Present your warrant and charges.”

Mistake, processed Miette, as she watched the proceedings from afar. And he'd been doing so well until now. Miette knew from experience that bluffing Viryn only made him mad. Her processors raced to calculate his possible reactions to the media and bold statements of defiance - none of the outcomes were favourable.

All the seething frustration focused in a moment into blinding anger, zeroed in on Lance's smug expression. Or at least, what he thought was a smug expression, or a carefully crafted bluff of some kind. What had seemed like an honest surrender now seemed like a media circus, a publicity stunt.

"Right!" shouted Viryn, pushing past his guards and grabbing Lance by his manacles. "Come with me, Mr. Shipwright! You want manacles? I'll show you manacles. As for the rest of you, since this isn't a state, you don't have freedom of the press, so get the hell off my ship and hand over those recordings."

Without even looking over his shoulder, Viryn dragged Lance up into his own ship and hurled the man into a seat before sitting opposite.

"What do you think this is, huh?" Viryn snapped, giving the manacles a shake. "You think this is a game? You think me coming all the way out here over government credits misappropriated and illegal states being founded was for shits and giggles? Joke's on you, Lance, because I'm going to give you exactly what you want. A decade or two behind bars will really look good in your next heartfelt press release. You might not even have to fake that sad kicked-puppy voice!"

With that, the Minister fell silence, crossing his arms and smouldering with rage. After him followed two guards, throwing down confiscated holo-disks. The shuttle separated and pulled away with a slight tremor. Viryn turned back to Lance and narrowed his vision. "Well, Vice-Commodore, anything to say in your defence?"

“Do I have anything to say in my own defense?” Lance echoed. “I should not think you care to hear it, to be quite honest.”

The Vice Commodore adjusted his position comfortably and seemingly nonplused by the physical molestations by the Ethics Minister. He studied his manacles before moving his eyes across the confiscated holo-disks.

“However; it occurs to me that you may want to know,” he began with a gesture towards the aforementioned disks. “That those are not the only copies. You see, what with the trend towards wireless, the Gestalt Media utilizes a broadcast share network. Those discs, of which you seem so proud, are simply hard copies for the data that is transmitted digitally. As a matter of fact, aboard the very shuttle that ushered me here, my people are doubtless uploading the same data back to Gestalt I where-in the information is likely being disseminated amongst the populace.”

Lance smirked, “I would wager, quite heavily, that within the next few minutes the Gestalt Holo-Net will be flooded with images of you, in your anger and haste, slapping my wrists in iron and man-handling me to my seat… Which I am sure will play very well against my demurring to your legal authority. The phrase ‘unnecessary violence’ comes to mind.”

Dismissing his smirk and resuming his more business like visage, Lance regarded the troopers at Viryn’s side. They were, or appeared to be, the standard issue Coalition Soldier. He doubted this very much, however; and thought it more likely that Quell had the foresight to keep his own batch of elite guards close at hand. Thoughts of escape were far from his mind.

“But that is all just window dressing isn’t it?”

He reclined somewhat and placed his hands in his lap. “Now then, as they say in all the good dramas; take me to your leader.”

“Oh,” he snapped his fingers. “You’ll also be interested to know that my life-signs are being constantly monitored by a vessel which your sensors will be unable to detect. This vessel will shadow this stately shuttle. Should anything ill befall me before I reach conference with your superiors… We’ll, let’s not make threats.”

“Suffice to say, Viryn I have no intention of legitimizing the Colonies through you. You have been determined to sabotage my efforts from the beginning, for reasons I cannot comprehend. I am certain that others within your government will see the clear advantage of having the Colonies within the Coalition fold even if you cannot. So let us end this debate, as neither side will gain any advantage, and dispense with the pretense. Take me to your superiors and we will see about having your actions ratified. Otherwise, I fear, the millions of people living under the Gestalt banner may look for refuge elsewhere… and given that that population is almost entirely human, and closer to Imperial territory then Coalition… Well…”

Lance pressed his eyes shut. “As I said, I don’t believe you honestly care about anything I’ve just said, but I have said it and there you have it. Now, if you don’t mind, I will reserve my right, as a Coaltion citizen, to remain silent.” Again he eyed his manacles, “Assuming you plan to place me legally under arrest rather then, as it has been thus far; your illegal detainment of my person. So, if you’d be so kind as to read me my rights, you can then feel completely free to fuck off.”

Somewhere in Viryn's brain, a blood vessel - just minding his own business, transporting oxygen like it did every day - was suddenly blown to bits by forces beyond its' control or understanding.

Viryn understood. Or, he would have, outside of the shaking cold rage building in him. Fuck you, smart guy. Somewhere, a lone thought of admiration for the man's brass balls was drowned out in the sea of fury. Why did he have to take this shit? Regrad hired him to be the Coalition's watchdog, and by whatever Gods still existed in-

"Viryn?" Miette had appeared at his side, keeping a slight distance as the warning signs of a breakdown began to emerge. "Maybe we should call Regrad? You should probably check with a higher authority before-"

"Fuck Regrad!" Shouted Viryn, grabbing Lance suddenly by the collar and (despite his own apparently slim frame) ramming him against the wall. "He's in contempt of the Coalition! He's threatening treason! He's gone way past his bounds and he's betrayed the public trust! What more fucking authority do we need?"

"You might be right but you still can't just drag him in in chains!" exclaimed Miette, suddenly close, her voice approaching an Android's interpretation of panic. "We still have to follow the law-"

"I'm the law and I say fuck this guy!"

Time stopped. Viryn froze. Silence reigned.

Somewhere, he heard clapping.

"Very astute," said Regrad from the doorway. Everyone turned - a floating holosphere emitted the Prime Minister into the room, a blue transparent Azguardian walking amongst them. "Thank you very much, Viryn, I think you've made your point brilliantly. I can take care of Lance from here."

Slowly Viryn loosened his grip, letting a stunned Lance slip back into his seat. "He... he..."

"I know all about Mr. Shipwright's activities, Mr Quell. I've been well updated by your department."

Lance glanced at Miette, who looked away. He started to feel cold, the slightest trickle of shame and guilt mixing into a cocktail with anger and confusion. "I only meant to - I mean -"

"That's quite all right, Mr. Quell. Everything's gone just fine. You go relax and take your mind off things for a while, I'll talk to Mr. Shipwright and sort this out."

Viryn left the room a dazed man, the guards and Miette following him. Regrad smiled at the as he left before turning to Lance. "Ah, Mr. Shipwright, I'm glad to finally meet you."

The holographic Prime Minister crossed the ground between them and took a seat next to Lance, turning to face the scientist-turned-politician. "I understand you've been put under great duress by my people, I hope they haven't been overly rough with you - Viryn is a great man but can sometimes be overzealous in his duties. It just so happens the things he's zealous about are the same I believe in, which is why I arranged for him to meet you, or at least find out enough to want to do so.

"Your colonies are an interesting and frankly surprising development, so I admit even I had my doubts, but you handled yourself gamely when pushed and showed a fortitude not always present in the scientific community. I'm impressed. Of course that information being uploaded by your people must be deleted, but that's a small matter now.

"What's important is that you've faced and survived public scrutiny, founded a loyal nation, and shown personal skill, cunning, and determination. That's all I require for admission into the Coalition, let accountants meet and quibble over correct legal procedure and funding process. Welcome aboard, Commodore."

The Prime Minister rose from his seat, and paused near the doorway. "Viryn shaln't be any trouble to you, for now at least. Of course, he still has my ear so I can't vouche for wether he won't find some trouble in the future. Best to play it safe for the time being, no? Who knows, perhaps you can even earn his trust?" Regrad laughed heartily. "Maybe in due time. Until we meet again."

The hologram faded. In the silence, the manacles binding Lance popped open as if of their own volition, and a near-impercetible shudder told Lance his ship had re-docked with the shuttle. The door opened once more.