Battle was joined. The Super-turbolaser had done its work with tremendous effect. The blast had not torn a hole in the side of the enemy ship as hoped but it had vaporized two fighters unluckily caught in the blast’s path. More than that - the enemy knew the Empire was not going to be trifled with. If they would not heave-to and leave the matter to the Imperial Navy, then the Fleet would fight for the shuttle and destroy whatever stood in its path.


“ Sir: those ships are sporting some sort of ablative armor. The energy from the STL-4 was absorbed. There was some damage but only about twenty percent of what should have happened. We have no specifications on any such technology.”


“ Thank you, Yuri,” replied the Archduke, thinking hard for a moment. If they have armor that can absorb energy our only choice is to overwhelm those systems. We have to get close - a long range cannonade will only allow our shots to diminish in potency.


Two squadrons of Mark III TIE Defenders bristled around the two heavy cruisers and its diminutive cousin to their rear, each one itching for a fight. Specs began to register on scanners as stealth-equipped craft closed the distance. Alarms sounded and controllers cast off the leash which held the TIEs to the mother-ships. The Defenders tore into the approaching fighters with a vengeance firing wildly their four laser cannon, pounding the craft with missiles and torpedoes. Explosions began to flare up as the Empire single-mindedly pursued the errant shuttle, almost blinding the cruisers to another threat, this one far more serious than stealth-fighters.


“ Incoming missile-tracts, all forward vectors!”


The tactical relay officer slammed his hand down on a small glass case which shattered into so many fragments. His fist continued the short distance to a red button that was slightly larger than its nearby brethren, activating alarm klaxons throughout the ship. The missile-lock siren was hellish and no one could have slept through it regardless of species or manner. Bulkheads closed and fire-breaks shuts. The massive cruiser became compartmentalized in seconds as men placed their fate in the hands of droid-run supercomputers. Eight thousand men held their breath.


“ Break to flank! Move the Faerius to our starboard side! MOVE!”


What could roughly be called a center of the small Imperial formation was quickly abandoned as the Sevastopol broke right and the Crimea broke left. The heavy cruisers were slow, ponderous things and the maneuver was barely executed before the missiles were within range. The small Faerius was a faster ship but still no fighter - her yaw but be just behind the Sevastopol’s engines. The missiles streaked in at breakneck speeds but were not greeted by only hushed idleness. Defensive banks tracked the projectiles and let loose a fury of laser darts that slammed into one missile after another. Some were brushed off their course, some only nicked, others destroyed entirely. Space truly lit up around the cruisers - neon laser blasts spared nothing.


The display was heartening to the men inside the missiles’ targets for it blinded them to how many survived the storm. Several projectiles continued on between the turning cruisers still being hunted by the banks’ computers. The missiles refused to yield and with the grim determination of suicidal attackers finally impacted. The Cuirassier-class Heavy Cruiser sported more particle shields than most comparable ships and so managed to survive the fearsome collision. The Sevastopol did rock violently as men and machine was thrown from bulkhead to bulkhead and the aft shields collapsed - but they did their job.


The Faerius on the other hand, was torn open like a toy at Christmas. Her shields held for three impacts but the fourth found home on the dorsal hull and exposed a proton-warhead battery to space. Oxygen vented and birthed a conflagration as brief as it was intense. Damage control crews sealed off the area but now half of the ship’s secondary weapons were inoperable.


“ Sir, we’re presenting them with our flanks!”


“ I know, Yuri, I know. All broadside weapons - fire!”


The Imperial cruisers were now in a position to fight as they had been designed to fight. They were positioned perpendicular to the enemy’s line of advance, and while they presented a broad profile they could also bring the brunt of their guns to bear - which is exactly what they did.

“We’re taking fire from their main batteries!” shouted an officer from the crewpit.

The lights dimmed as the Seraph vibrated violently under the first barrages of the Imperial Fleet. Corise gripped his command chair, maintaining his coolness. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

“Divert weapons energy to keep our shields up. Standby to activate back-up shields in case of main shield generator failure. Helm, take us out of their range now,” ordered the Kashan officer.

“Captain, we have hull breaches in several sections-”

“Well,” cut in the Commodore, “get damage control teams down there now. Order all Shock Troopers to help in the efforts wherever they can.”

Things were similar across the rest of the Kashan vessels. The Seraph-class, originally designed as a defensive ship, was a durable vessel, due to its Ultrachrome armor and reinforced Ferrocarbon frame. However, the ship could only take so much before it would give way under the fury of green turbolaser bolts. Corise estimated that the main shields wouldn’t hold too much longer. After that, the back-up shield generators would kick in, which by themselves, doubled their survival time. But by far, the best defense for the cruisers was distance. By merit of simply being faster than their opposition, the cruisers began to accelerate out of their opponent’s firing range before starting to maneuver.

Now out of the Imperial’s firing range, the Seraph and the Redoubtable broke to the left of the Imperial formation in a fast flanking action that would eventually take them to behind the Imperial vessels. Meanwhile, the Steadfast and Resolute retreated back towards the navigation point before turning to present their own broadside to the enemy vessel. With their long-range turbolasers, they fired upon their opponent without fear of retaliation, at least until the Imperial cruisers would catch up. Occasionally, the cruisers would launch a coordinated Starflare strike at an exposed system of the Imperial cruisers, such as the Sevastopol's Sensor Dome.

Meanwhile, the Imperial and Kashan fighters clashed as the Tie Defenders began their onslaught with volleys of missiles and torpedoes. Due to the tight constraints of the original Deathsaber formation, several of the unguided warheads hit the starfighters. Deathsabers boasted shields equivalent to those of Tie Avengers and with armor heavier than that of the X-wing. Thus, they could not be destroyed except through multiple missile and laser hits. Still, several Deathsabers managed to do just that; their pilots blinded by overconfidence in their craft’s stealth capabilities.

The Kashan starfighters retaliated, sending volleys of coordinated laser and missile fire at the Tie Defenders. True to their doctrine, flights of Deathsabers teamed up against a single Imperial Fighter, conducting their classic hit-and-fade attacks. For the Tie Defenders, it would be a war against shadows, as sensors did not show their opponents. Thus, there was no targeting data for their weapons or cues for arranging their shields. For the Deathsabers, the key was positioning themselves to overwhelm the more maneuverable starfighters. Many Kashan pilots released their stealth missiles en mass, sending a stream of the warheads after the juking and jinxing Imperial craft. With their numerical advantage, the Kashan counterattack slowly began to eat away at the Imperial ranks of fighters. Through this storm of clashing starfighters, the Deathsabers assigned to bombing duty trickled out of the dogfight as the number of Imperial starfighters lessened. Forming flights, they lurked towards the damaged Faerius.

“Commodore, the bombers are in a position to assault the enemy frigate.”

“Very well. Coordinate it with a Starflare strike equipped with ion warheads. Try not to destroy it, we may have some use for the hulk of the vessel.”

“Aye sir.”

In the midst of the chaos of battle, the two escort squadrons of Deathsabers deftly guarded their charge, the shuttle, as it continued its journey to the nav point. For those within that tiny group, it was like being in the eye of storm with the brilliant thunder of the batteries and the blossoms of explosions on both sides. The convoy silently edged forward. Occasionally, one of the starfighters would make a brief pass over the craft in an inspection run. Thus far, it appeared to be holding up, although after the damage the Imperials had dealt to the craft, it would likely be sent to the scrapyard after its journey.

Corise viewed the battle via holoprojector on the battle bridge of his flagship. Softly, he whistled an old martial tune played at the Kashan Military Academy. The second missile strike against the Faerius commenced.

The engagement was being waged in neutral space just outside of what was known on maps as the Imperial border. There was of course no wall, no gates, no signs - there were however a long net of sensor buoys acting as the eyes and ears of High Command with lone ships and assorted squadrons watching all as heavily-armed sentries. Just to look from a distance though, Imperial Space was no different from neutral space or - though many might disagree - Coalition Space.


The Coalition, however, had defiled Imperial territory by allowing its errant craft to disgorge its passenger so close to the Sanctum of Order, and that passenger was now paying the price, as were those sent to rescue it. Victory was not assured for the Empire though defeat would certainly not be quiet.


Archduke Romanov, however, would not even consider defeat.


“ Sir, the enemy is obviously targeting the Faerius. Given her small shield-sphere and the pounding she just took, I don’t know how much longer she can hold.”


“ Very well,” Romanov grumbled. “ Get her out of here.”


Even damaged, the small Scimitar-class ship was agile enough to maneuver out of the mass-shadow offered by the two hulking cruisers and make a blind-micro-jump into light speed. She reverted a small distance from her previous position and, out of danger, made a more calculated jump back to the base from which she had sauntered two weeks before. Missiles intended for her no-longer pristine hull passed through her former location and eventually self destructed well beyond the target area.


“ Things are much more even now. We’ve given them a sporting chance!” commented a large Cossack from the rear of the bridge drawing some muffled laughs and a sizeable smile from the portly captain.


“ Helm, bring us back onto course with those two lead ships. They’re trying to open the range so let’s deny them their opportunity. We are in range I trust with the Quad-turbolasers?”


“ Da,” the executive officer replied.


“ Spasebo Yuri.” The Captain consulted the small computer monitor in the arm of his chair then looked forward into space - and it’s the hulls of cannonading enemy ships. “ Fire all heavy weapons and concentrate amidships. Flight Ops - launch our two waiting TIE squadrons and give them free reign to hunt and destroy everything they can touch, fighters first. Also, deploy our Missile boats and send them over to the enemy to return their favor.”


Acknowledgements responded as Archduke Romanov watch long-range heavy-turbolaser blasts answer the enemy’s salvoes. His two ships slowly began a yaw to bring them back in line with the enemy, pointing like daggers into the enemy’s heart. The shuttle whose recovery had been the Empire’s sole purpose, was no longer on their sensors.

Corise watched as the Faerius jumped out of range. Seconds later, the missiles detonated where the Faerius should have been. He snapped his fingers. Lost another to hyperspace. A series of bright green bolts from the Imperial cruisers slammed into the Seraph’s shields. Yet again, the lights dimmed as power was rerouted from non-essential systems to ensure that shot strength would not overwhelm the shields and the ultrachrome armor. The energy absorbed in the armor was promptly directed back into the shields; thus, it could possibly be a never-ending cycle.

“Divert all shield power to the areas exposed to fire from those cruisers.”

That left some sides of the Seraph cruisers unshielded, but also bolstered the sides exposed to the opposition unusually strong.

“Sir, the enemy is launching more starfighters. Aside from some Ties, we’ve noted some missile boats.”

Corise’s eyes narrowed. Missile boats in any amount were bad news; even more disturbing was the fact that they were headed for his capital ships.

“Priority alert to all starfighters to intercept and destroy the Missile Boats. Greywind squadron is clear to intercept them as well. Standby all guns to engage in flak-burst mode. Helm, take us out firing range.”

It was true that the Seraph Mk II-class lacked any specific anti-starfighter or anti-missile weapons. Instead, its designers had opted to have a secondary firing mode that made all of the weapon systems capable of dealing with the threats. The turbolasers and quad ion cannons were equipped with a rapid flak burst option. Controlled by the ship’s computers, these weapons would actively target areas with missiles with clouds of raw and ionic energy in an effort to prematurely detonate the projectiles. Any warheads or starfighters that managed to pass that storm would be engaged by Greywind Squadron, which served as the interceptor screen for the cruisers. Further complicating things for the missile boats, they would have not only have to contend with the front precautions, but they would also find themselves being attacked from the rear by the zealous Kashan starfighter pilots. As the events unfolded, Kashan cruisers readied themselves to take possibly enemy missile hits by sealing blast doors and preparing damage control teams comprised mostly of Kashan Shock Troopers.

Meanwhile, the starfighter battle raged on. Because the Deathsaber squadrons had broken their en mass formation, they were no longer easy to find or constricted by the formation. Flights of those starfighters regularly ambushed their opponents before fading back into the black vastness of space.

The S9s equipped for the heavy assault role, originally destined for the Faerius, arced back towards the Crimea’s aft engine block. A little over forty starfighters released over 240 space bombs into the sections where the engines connected to the main hull. Their payload away, the starfighters rejoined the fight against the Imperial Ties.

Meanwhile, the shuttle continued to edge nearer to the navigation point.

The Crimea rocked under the impact of three dozen warheads. All that lay between sets of walls slammed from one side to aother. What was delicate was shattered, what was bolted down simply acted as additional impact areas for that which was not. Those bipedal lifeforms devoid of armor or impenetrable exoskeletons suffered most as tey jostled to and fro. Many steel surfaces were covered with a most hideous crimson fluid that moved in whatever direction artificial gravity demanded.


" Sir, her aft shields have been overwhelmed. They took about two-thirds of the impact; the remaining projectiles hit hull. Armor is stripped in most places. We're showing hull penetrations in seven different locations. Hypedrive on the Crimea is inoperable."


" Thrusters?" asked Romanov, arching an eyebrow.


" Some, sir, but not much."


" So be it. Tactical - lock on tractor beams to the Crimea. We'll to her along with us. Helm - continue on towards those ships, best possible speed."


The wounded Heavy Cruiser shook again as its brother-warship took it in tow. Together they pointed at the enemy ships and moved closer and closer still. Try as the enemy might to run and break range, the Empire refused to acquiesce. Heavy turbolasers proved too stalwart to be evaded and shots registered against now-sputtering shields. The ablative armor the enemy used absorbed more than any gunner was happy with but the sheer volume of fire began to tell. Armor plates were peeled off allowing fire and the coldness of space to touch the virgin insides of the lighter vessels. Damage control crews were vaporized as sections they attempted to seal off fell victim to the concentrated volley fire that was the envy of every civilized Navy throughout the galaxy.


" Flight Ops - reel in those missile boats. Give them as aide to our TIEs. And Keep a tight leash on the Defenders - do not let them engage thoe slippery little snubcraft beyond our defensive bank range. Guns - rout what power is not being called by shields and propulsion to those banks, I don't want to see our anti-fighter weapons silent!"


" Aye sir!" came bit-out replies from the aft of the bridge.


Romanov looked forward, his ships' turns complete. They were now pointed at the fleeing enemy who it seemed could not tolerate the sharp fire the Imperial guns were putting up. As they fled so did the heavy cruisers chase, putting even more distance between the errant pair trying desperately to close in on their aft-quarter. Things were not going as well for the enemy commander as he might have liked.


Explosions dotted the stars as the defensive banks redoubled their fire. Over a whole squadon's worth of Defenders had been destroyed for equal losses among the enemy but now, with the banks concentrated and the Defenders close-in, the enemy fighters would take more pleasing losses.


One of the smaller ships the cruisers was chasing seemed to be slowing as it fled, an obvious sign that the guns were doing their work, and doing it well.


" Guns - quad-turbolasers to concentrate on the remaining ship, double-mounts to finish off this straggler. Re-transmit our demand for their surrender or prompt removal from Imperial territory."


Romanov smiled. We won't go down without a fight!

“Sir, the Steadfast has taken a hit to her engine systems. The Imperial Commander has ordered her to surrender.”

Corise snorted. “Steadfast has the nav-point coordinates still?”

“Yes sir.”

“Order her to make the micro-jump to the point in order to provide covering fire for the escaping shuttle.”

“Aye sir.”

Chasing the Seraph-class cruisers had taken the Imperial cruisers away from the shuttle and away from the nav-point. That combined with the fact that the point was out of range for the Imperial ships allowed the Steadfast a haven with which to make temporary repairs. Corise would rather have her stay out for the rest of the battle.

“Sir, back-up shields are all up for all ships now. Damage control reports everything is stabilized.”

The Seraph-class, because of its defence ship role, was meant to simply endure the most withering fire of an opponent. Hence, not only the ultrachrome armor backed by the heavily reinforced ferrocarbon frame, but also shield generators that were identical to the main shields. Thus, the Seraph’s shields were back to the original strength when they had entered the battlefield; something which couldn't be said of their Imperial opponents. Kashan shock troopers, being specifically trained for the job, had little difficulty making elementary repairs to the ships, such as placing new Ultrachrome sheets over gaps of the hull and reinforcing it with spare Ferrocarbon framing.

“Draw back our starfighters from those cruisers. I want our ion cannons targeting their turbolaser batteries now. Turbolasers, strike the fighters. Fire Starflares at target two.”

The S9 Deathsabers retreated from the presence of the massive Imperial hulks as the Steadfast finished her jump to the nav-point. Imperial turbolaser fire was striking the cruisers, but the accuracy diminished because the long-range sensors had been destroyed by an earlier Starflare strike. The distance between the factions was also beginning to widen, as the Sevastapol’s tractoring of the Crimea added additional mass for her engines to pull.

As the Imperial onslaught faded, the Kashan ships returned fire, catching the Imperial cruisers in the classic cross-fire maneuver. The formerly silent quad ion cannons of the Coalition fleet began to fire, their long-range bolts hitting the heavy quad turbolasers of the Imperial fleet. Blue lightning began to fizzle upon those turrets, lessening the effectiveness of those weapons. Emerald flak bursts from the Seraphs began to flood the area where the Imperial starfighters had congregated. Tie Defenders were fast enough to dodge them, but the slower and less maneuverable missile boats were more vulnerable. In the midst of this chaos, Starflare Missiles from the four cruisers dropped out of hyperspace before rocketing at the Sevastapol’s aft engine housing. The defensive banks kicked in, destroying several of the missiles. Nonetheless, some of the projectiles used their piercing heads to enter the plating and blow it away from the inside out.

The enemy ships were certainly difficult to destroy, as the Imperials aboard the pair of heavy cruisers were duly noting. There was one course of action remaining, as they had already spent more time outside of the border than they were authorized to do.


" Commander, let us finish our mission and be on our way."


"Da, tsovarich Kapitain," replied the muscular executive officer of the Sevastopol.


Orders were quickly issued adn the battle changed as it needed to. War was said to serve no human masters and today its bloodlust had certainly not been satiated. The Empire was in debt - and the Empire always made good on its payments.


The heavy cruisers came about as they were no longer in range of the enemy ships they had ben charging and made excellent time to where the slower shuttle was attempting to flee. With a quick volley of energy from a few quad-turbolaser batteries, the shuttle was reduced to so much floating debris. Her fighter-escort railed at the defamation but the Imperials simply refused to listen, their shots falling against shields and still-powerful armor plating. The enemy warships that had moved to intercept fired as well but the Imperial Fleet refused it the dignity of counter-battery fire.


Their mission accomplished, the leading cruiser wrapped its shielding around its cousin, towing her in close. Inside this invisible cocoon it was possible to make the jump to light speed - although no faster than a garbage scow.

The enemy licked its wounds, the field theirs to do with as they pleased. TIE wreckage and blown apart pieces of three Imperial ship was the prize of sustaining their position.


Victory belonged to no one that day - least of all the vaporized Coalition cargo of an errant shuttlecraft.

Corise stared out of the viewport. Mere minutes ago, shades of green and blue had criss-crossed space, lancing out between the gray hulks of warships. Now, the brightest lights were from dim stars. Across the former battlefield, the Seraphs had regrouped.

“Status of the Steadfast?” asked the Kashan man.

“Section Eight is now back online. Engine repairs are proceeding at optimal levels.”

“Sir, Resolute has tractored in the remains of a Tie Defender. More importantly, its pilot is still alive.”

Corise nodded. “Hand him over to Coalition Intelligence when we stop at Starwind station.”

For the Kashan Fleet’s first performance, Corise was satisfied with the results. His fleet hadn’t been soundly smashed or driven back into Coalition space. Still, the Commodore was a believer in decisive victories winning the war, rather than bouts of attrition. In that sense, he was rather disappointed. But they had been left in possession of the battlefield, which allowed some advantages for the Kashan Fleet.

Foremost was the recovery of Kashan starfighter and personnel remains. Thus, the Imperials would not be able to get a hold on any remains of the destroyed S9s or have any prisoners to interrogate. The same could not be said of the Imperials. The Kashan starfighters with their enhanced sensors had little difficulty in finding the wrecks of starfighters from both sides. Thus, not only had Kashan pilots been recovered from the depths of space, but also pilots from the Imperial ships.

More interesting to Corise than the living opponents were actually the wrecks of the fighters; Tie Defenders and Missile Boats were considered by many as the zenith of starfighter technology. While the wrecks as a whole were useless, some of the remaining parts within the craft were not. Kashan engineers would be busy analyzing those parts. Of primary interest would be the Defender’s shield generators and the missile boat’s SLAM system. It was unlikely that any of the systems would be found completely intact, but combined with the other wrecks, it would be likely that the Kashan engineers would recover their secrets.

“Ambassador Nils Orono is ready to attend the conference.”

While the shuttle had been completely destroyed into twisted pieces of unrecognizable origin, the diplomat onboard had escaped via an escape pod. With the Imperials off the battlefield, the Kashan starfighters had found it and the Steadfast, being the closest ship to it, had tractored it in to its main bay.

“Very good. We’ll take the Steadfast with us to the conference. The other ships should continue with their recovery operations.”

“Aye sir.”

The Seraph and Steadfast, with its new passenger, jumped into hyperspace back to the conference.

"Ambassador Orono, pleasure to have you onboard," bowed the Commodore.

Nils Orono's weathered face slowly turned into a smile. "It sure beats the heck of being cramped up in an escape pod."

Corise offered a forced, if akward smile. "Yes. I've arranged for you to use our guest quarters, which is by my cabin, for the duration of your trip. They were just used by Pro-Consul Christina Thorn of Kashan, so I'm afraid that its current furnishings might not be to your liking."

The other man just barked a laugh. "I don't imagine your warship is the Grand Imperial Hotel at Coruscant. Besides, I'm sure it's far roomier than the shuttle."

The man's voice lowered and became more solemn at the latter statement. Corise nodded at the man as a honor guard of Shock Troopers escorted the man to his cabin.
------------------------------
Kashan Flagship Seraph, around Starwind Station

"Captain, take a look at this."

Corise walked over and leaned on the sensor's station's console. The other officer tapped a few buttons, enlarging the view to show a large warship. The Kashan man's face turned quizical as the camera zoomed in. It had the classic wedge shape associated with Imperial vessels, but was not a type that Corise had ever saw before on any of the databanks from both Kashan and Coalition Intelligence.

"I wonder to who that belongs to," muttered the blond man.
--------------------
Starwind Station

Corise, once again in his dress uniform, entered the corridors of Starwind Station. At his side, Nils Orono was dressed in the traditional robes of the Culverin system. The Culverin system was currently neutral, but was here to observe the proceedings to see if joining the Coalition might prove beneficial. And although the shuttle was provided by the Coalition, the attack on it by the Imperials was sure to be in the man's mind. He sat the man down before rejoining with his typical consort, Christina Thorn.

"It's good to see you back in one piece," she smiled.

Corise snorted. "It's too bad all of our ships are in more than one piece."

She sighed. "Lighten up. I talked to Commander Fyre, and he doesn't seem to think that the damage is too serious. Besides, I've met an interesting man that seems to share a lot in common with you."

The couple walked over to a table. "Vice-Commodore, this is Commodore Corise Lucerne of the Kashan Fleet..."

Earlier…

“It would be good for public relations,” observed Colonial Minister Ramos in an off hand fashion. As had become typical of her station, and thus fashion; she was clad in a tight near-military uniform that accentuated her every curve. “We should try and convince him to attend.”

Her jet black hair was tied back in a neat bun that did not stir in the light breeze. She and the Admiral had retired to the balcony of her Ministerial offices to enjoy the evening breeze and a snifter of burgundy. Below, the Seven Cities area appeared to be a conglomeration of seven distinct metropolitan centers all stretching outward and inward towards one another. The delta upon which they had been constructed was swiftly being overtaken by the tell tale signs of an expanding civilization. A few of the larger islands nearer to shore were in the first stages of cultivation.

“You will get no argument from me.”

The Admiral was seated with his back to the city, his attention firmly on the Colonial Minister. She reclined against the railing and turned her eyes towards the sky.

A matte of blues and purples fading to an abysmal black looked down upon them. In the distance, breaking over the tall ridge of mountains that bordered the delta, a bank of clouds thick with rain rolled ominously towards them. The significance was not lost on Paula Ramos.

“It never hurts to have friends,” she turned to regard the Admiral.

For his part Ruben Mar-Veil maintained an immaculate and manicured appearance. The Admiral adhered to a strict regimen of exercise and diet that kept him vital as a man half his age. With deep set eyes narrowed to mere slits he examined the Colonial Minister with something of a critical stare.

“Being a member of the Coalition is one thing.” With a sigh, defeated by his gaze, Paula slumped into the wicker chair opposite the Admiral. “It can’t hurt to make friends with others who have similar interests.”

“Would you have us embark upon a mission of mercy to Bastion?” Ruben joked aloud, laughing. He paused only to sip his beverage. “Or should I be putting my resume together?”

“No,” she chided him, not amused by his off color sense of humor. “I’m talking about the Kashans.”

“Kashan?” he asked.

“You’ve heard of it?”

Somewhere near to indignity the Colonial Minister attempted to look hurt. Were she standing she would have planted her palms on her hips. Seated as she was, Paula settled for a sincere pout; the Admiral had seen her hand, as the gamblers said.

“Yes,” said Mar-Veil hesitantly and ever so slowly understanding the Ministers intent. He must have ruined her surprise. “But clearly I don’t know enough. The real question is, what do you know?”

“Well… It’s not what I know, it’s who…”





“It’s an honorific title,” explained the Vice Commodore. Rising from his seat, Lance Shipwright extended a palm towards the man identified as Commodore Lucerne. “Before you ask, and most navy men do; it was bestowed upon me by the Colonial Government of Gestalt and the Defense Fleet alike.”

Vice Commodore Lance Shipwright was clad in the typically unimpressive uniform of his station, though the subject of minor alterations. Clean shaven with his hair pressed back in a slick mat of uniform black, he reflected the better aspects of civilian and military life. Truth or illusion, he wore the clothes well.

“May I introduce Captain d’Foose,” he gestured to the woman on his left who, sensing the arrival of Commodore Lucerne, had the good sense to stand at attention and offer her superior a snappy, crisp salute. “She commands the Colonial, the destroyer you may have observed us arriving in.”

Naturally Captain d’Foose had donned the regimental uniform of a Colonial Captain complete with decorative brass. Though it was woven of a drab slate colored fabric and cut to compliment the uniform, not the solider, it failed to completely disguise the shapely figure mostly hidden beneath. She had, however; taken the occasion to wear her hair down. The golden yellow strands of her blonde hair tumbled across her face somewhat disturbing the overall effectiveness of her salute.

All the same, she said, “It is a great honor to meet you, Commodore Lucerne. Will you please join us?”

“Indeed,” echoed Lance. “Won’t you please?”