The shuttle appeared on a computerized display consol within the space command headquarters on Imperial Bandomeer. Made only to show ships exiting hyperspace, as it dropped out of hyperspace, the computer automatically tagged it with an ID number, and then assigned the task of directing it to her.

Half way through her long eight-hour watch, the operator was drinking Java juice and slowly flipping through the two-dozen channels available on the holo-vision at her watch station, occasionally glancing to the screen to her left. She was also thinking about her boy friend, who had made it crystal clear last night he had serious designs on her body.

For a moment, she put the thoughts of her boyfriend and the programs aside. Taping some keys on her keyboard, she called up more information about the bogey. There were no earlier records of it's arrival--no flight plan had been filed, on this world or another. A few more clicks gave her information about the shuttle itself. It was an Endor vintage Lambda shuttle. Dozens of screens of data about it's capabilities were loaded and displayed below the basics.

Presently, the ship began broadcasting an ID and IFF signal. SStupid, she though. Over Coruscant they'd have shot you down for that delay." She clicked a shortcut on her keyboard, and the newly broadcast information was brought up.

"Let's see, the Skylark, registered to Max Reem from. . . Germanica?" So it was a Gray ship up there. Within the Imperial military, they had became some what of a joke. With only a single Star Destroyer and it's supporting squadron--their entire fleet--they had seriously planned on attacking GC, and told the Empire just that. Ambitious as hell, but stupid.

She briefly mused on what to do--radio them as normal, or call her superior. She quickly decided upon the former. Her superior creeped her out. Besides, this wasn't any different from any other normal space control duty, other than the lack of flight plan filed.

She opened up a transmission to the shuttle. "Shuttle Skylark, report occupants, cargo and intended destination. Any falsifications are punishable by imprisonment or fines, acknowledge."

A gruff male voice came back over the line. "This is Skylark. Data package has been sent."

On her screen, the requested information appeared. No cargo, only passengers. Seven, to be precise. Listed as "diplomat" was a man with the unlikely name of "Reem." The other six passengers were registered as his bodyguards, and there were also two pilots. Beside all nine names were the words "clean," meaning none of them had criminal records within the Empire. Destination was listed as "Bandomeer City."

"Skylark," state intentions, over," she transmitted.

There was a suspicious silence on the other end, and then another man, this one sounding much more youthful, came on.

"Control, this s Max Reem. We're here to speak with the highest ranking Naval commander on planet. The matter is urgent, out."

That would be Commodore Thorton, currently.

"Rodger, Sky Lark. Commodore Thorton is a busy man, but I'm not his secretary. I can't deny you an appointment with him, but I can't guarantee you one either. I can simply foward your request on to him.

She paused for a moment and used her mouse to click the "continue" button. Another screen came up with a list of options. She checked the boxes next to "escort" and "planet side probation," (they didn't want to lose track of this Reem figure), then checked the box next to "meeting" and typed in "Thorton." She quickly reviewed her picks, then clicked "Approve flight plan." In a few moments the proper flight plan would pop out, and the computer would make all the necessary arrangements.

The silence sounded awkwardly long on the other end.

"Destination approved," she finally transmitted. "Customs will inspect your ship upon touchdown--no one is to enter or leave the shuttle until they are finished. Before leaving your current orbit to land, an escort will form up with you to guide your ship down. On the planet, you will be regularly required to check in with a probation officer, along with your crew, and wear a transmitter so we always know you location. I have forwarded your request for a meeting along to Commodore Thorton. Welcome to Imperial Bandomeer, Enjoy your stay.

"I feel like a criminal," Max Reem said to nobody in particular as he stepped out of the shuttle, ankle bracelet attached and transmitting. When customs had come aboard, the first thing they had done was attach the bracelets to him, his bodyguards, and his pilots.

They don't want us wondering off, he thought.

"Welcome to the Empire sir," his friend and Captain of his bodyguards, Mittias, said behind him jovially. One by one, they all stepped out.

"I wonder when Thorton will get the message. This is an important matter, and we don't have much time." Max was growing nervous. It was, and they didn't. And even worse, he was far away from here, even though this was the necessary course of action, rather than back on Germanica.

"Calm down," Mattias said with a warm smile. "We've got plenty of time. In fact, we've got more than a week. Let's take this time and see the sights while we wait for the Commodore's reply. It's a big city on a busy world, and there'll be plenty to see and do. They've got your com link number. It won't matter whether you get the call here or at the ship."

Max just looked at him, a burdened expression on his face.

"Come on," Mattias said, stepping towards the hanger door. "Something to do's all you need. You've been in hyperspace for a week with nothing but your thoughts. That makes things seem worse than they really are. Come on, you'll forget about everything in no time.



There he was, Grand Admiral Thorton on the bridge of his Eclipse-class Star Destroyer, Leviathan. Three hundred kilometers away, well outside Turbo laser range, sat the remainder of the Galactic Coalition Fleet.

What had begun as a small rebellion, climaxed as a galaxy spanning Empire, then decayed into a small, outer rim government, ended here.

They were well outside turbo laser range, but not Super laser range.

The first shot ripped through the core of their fleet, turning formerly proud battleships into scrap metal in an instance. In moments, tens of thousands of men perished.

Strangely, he felt as if he could feel the enemy crew screaming as the life left them. But the feeling didn't make him feel bad or even have pity. It made him Laugh. Not a chuckle, or a good, hearty laugh at a dirty joke, but mad laughter, such as the mad clone C'Baoth was prone to have.

His subordinates could see the madness in his eyes, but he didn't care. This was the end of the Empire's enemy.

He laughed as his ships super laser vaporised the enemy vessels one by one. Realizing defeat was inevitable, they attempted to break up and flee into hyperspace. The sudden appearance of Interdictor cruisers, however, doomed that idea before it could be applied.

And then there was a beep.



His pager squealing, Kach did his best to tune the interruption to his dream and sleep out. "Abandon ship," he muttered detachedly before opening his eyes to reality. With a sigh, he picked up his pager and looked at the number calling him.

"No," he moaned, "Not on my leave."

Never the less, he picked up his com link and took the call anyway. Duty called.

"Hello, Commodore Thorton here."

"Hello Commodore, how are you?

"Fine. What can I do for you."

"This is Leutinant Sanders from Bandomeer sky watch and space command. Earlier today a shuttle landed with a negotiator aboard. He requested to meet with the highest ranking officer on the planet. That's you."

"You do know that I'm on leave, don't you?"

"His request was for the top man on the planet. That's you. We're only fulfilling his request. He says the meeting is urgent, and should only take about half an hour at most."

"I still don't see what's in it for me, why should I take uncompensated time out of my limited leave to meet with a representative from a backwater. . . Empire? Democracy? What are the Grays, anyway?"

"I'm not sure, sir. But this backwater Empire is officially an Imperial ally. And he said it was most urgent."

Kach thought for a moment. "Alright. Bring him to me. Tell him he has half an hour on the money to speak to me, starting when he gets here to make his case for whatever it may be."

"Hello Mr. Reem, my name is Kach Thorton, as you undoubtedly know." He was trying to act polite despite his indignation of being forced to work while on leave.

"Yes," Reem said. "But my business is urgent, Mr. Thorton, so if we could get to the matter at hand, I would be much obliged."

Very direct, this Reem. At least this wouldn't take very long.

"As you know, the Germanican Grays are an official ally of the New Order, as declared by the treaty of Germanica approximately a year prior to this date. Watching the Empire prepare for the seemingly inevitable war with the Galactic Coalition, we began making efforts to mobilize and expand our own forces as well so that our forces, no matter how small, could fight alongside your own. We also began making extensive preparations to strike several nearby Coalition planets of opportunity.

"To speed up the rapid mobilization of our forces, we proceeded to hire large numbers of mercenaries and pirates. Promising to pay them later, we quickly ran up rather large debt."

"If you expect the Empire to pay your debt for you," Kach interrupted, "you are sadly mistaken."

"No, no. What happened, however, is that they all recently decided to hold Germanica hostage, and their fleet is in orbit over it. They are demanding a sum approximately twice the size of the debt we owe them within the next week or they will wipe out every soul on our capital.

"Our fleet is too small to take them on themselves. We need your help or otherwise half a billion Empire-supporting citizens will be wiped out."

For a moment, Kach gave the matter some thought. If their fleet wasn't strong enough to take on a few pirates (he was perfectly aware of both the Grays and their mercenaries strengths and capabilities), then what resistance could they put up against a true Imperial invasion? They had only three planets, but it would look good in his record that he cut his leave short to do his duty to the Empire. And against the Grey's and their pirate's forces, it would take only a minimal force and minimal time to wipe them out. Their planets were only a parsec or so from here, so it wouldn't be too much time out of his leave...

"Mr. Reem," he said, a devilish smile gracing his face, "tell me more about the pirate fleet and it's strength.



A squadron of ships, he decided, would be far more than adequate to deal with the pirates and force the capitulation of the Grays to join the Empire. Four Imperial III class Star Destroyers now made their way at maximum speed to Germanica, accompanied by four Raptor-class Assault Cruisers.