Righteous Intent


The stars slightly rippled as the Deathsabers passed through the celestial void.

“Frak these search-and-rescue missions.”

“Do you have a problem, Flight Officer?”

“No Lieutenant.”

“Good. Freighters might not mean a whole lot to you, especially civilian ones,” stated Obsidian Four,” but if a friendly corporation loses one by our own space, then it can potentially be a problem for us in the future.”

“Yes sir,” replied the muffled voice.

“Four, do you have a reading at point-oh-four-two?”

“Yeah, I have a couple tracks, maybe; very faint signatures,” replied the pilot, his voice slightly garbled by the communication equipment.

Both starfighters banked portside, maintaining their flight pair formation. Up ahead, tiny gray specks appeared. Could be anything from space junk to asteroids. But as they approached, the specks became larger, tumbling and rolling aimlessly in space. Both pilots silently zoomed their Electrophoto receptors in, magnifying the visual feed on their monitors.

“Looks metallic.”

“Space junk?”

“This deep in space? That would have to be some war fleet to produce that amount of junk.”

“Aye.”

“That’s not space junk.”

The Deathsabers silently drifted over the charred hulls of the freighters. One of the Corellian bulk freighters was split in two, its mid-section vaporized by any number of the countless energy weapons found across the galaxy. The other freighters of the group appeared similarly derelict, with gaping holes and molten metal flash frozen across their hull. Four zoomed his electrophoto receptor on the bow of the merchant craft. In pristine white letters it read: Gallidor Industries. Four broke the comm. silence.

“Frak. These are the freighters we’re looking for.”

“Any survivors?”

“Let’s take a look.”

“Ah, sir, my LST is picking up a half-dozen lifeforms within the Gallidor Galvinator.”

“Four, I have readings on the other ships with the similar amounts of life.”

“But how? These ships have been missing for nearly a week. I don’t see any life support or major power coming from those ships.”

Four’s eyes squinted, toggling to the power readings from the vessels. “The power readings are all separated.”

“Meaning?”

“An Action VI doesn’t have any generators there. That’s the dry cargo hold of the ship. Meaning that it’s an ambush.”

“Well,” sneered the junior pilot, “They’ve certainly have done a good job of ambushing us then.”

“Cut out the snide remarks. They just haven’t seen us.”

“You’re bluffing…sir.”

Three oriented his craft’s nose to face one of the holes in the freighter that corresponded to the energy fluctuations. Lining up the passive targeting brackets, he selected a missile and set it to dumbfire. He tapped a button; a concussion missile surged forth from the craft, its fiery exhaust disappearing into the depths of a freighter. A small explosion engulfed a dark silhouette within the cargo ship’s otherwise empty hold. The silhouette became fuzzy and faded into the light; it’s pilot no longer among the living. Other fighters streamed out of the freighters’ holds.


Mark was dead...



Gray Works


Laureion, Abhean

“Absolutely not. Not under any circumstance,” quietly repelled the President Rearden, tapping a few keys on his desk console.

Abhean Intelligence Director Ayn Rand squinted her eyes. “My agency can’t do its job with those restrictions in place. The public is in outrage because of these attacks. Does your office or oath to protect the Abhean people matter to you at all? Let me find and capture their elements here.”

The aging president closed his console and without expression stared at the woman. Rand’s family was one of the more distinguished on Abhean, not by force of arms or right to rule, but because of the aristocracy that came from wealth. The same wealth that had helped the President successfully win his election. And the power of the Rand family was such, that it could tear him down and what he had accomplished; Ayn was not someone to be trifled with. Rearden clasped his hands.

“My dear, it is not that I find your patriotism and dedication to your work, no our planet, admirable. I wish it could be instilled into all our citizens, from our youth to those in retirement. If it was up to me, you would have many of those restrictions removed; you must realize that is no one man’s decision or our solely his ideas. It is a collection of ideas and decisions from many people; there have been compromises and debates that have taken many weeks to finish. On top of this, neither I or the congress people have automatic power; our power is from our constituents. Any politician must take them into account if he or she wishes to remain in power.”

Ayn’s brown eyes flashed dangerously. “I got the innuendo; you mean my power as well. You think people will protest more careful security procedures? Sure, it may be more of a hassle to go through increased custom’s procedures, but at least they’ll be safer.”

The President shook his head. “They’ll look at it as an infringement on their civil rights. Once we start sacrificing freedom for security, tyranny begins. Then we’ll end up like the Old Republic turning into the Galactic Empire.”

The woman began to pace around the man like a predator circling its wounded prey.

“Are you suggest we start loosening and restraining our security measures further? Sure, let’s do that. For starters, let’s get rid of the Customs and Immigration office. Then there is more freedom for everybody, right? Those spies and scouts of our enemies sure won’t have a problem getting in now, will they? Let’s get rid of all of the security in a government right now. I’m sure it’ll make it easier for the mole.”

Rearden blinked in surprise. “A mole?”

Rand gave a predatory smile. “Yes, a mole. Have you read Agent Dreyfuss’ report? It seems highly likely that there is a mole within our own government, providing information to the Black Flags. Whether that’s directly or indirectly, we don’t know. That’s why we need those restrictions lifted; to ferret out the spy in our midst.”

Rearden muttered. “I’ll think about it.”

She nodded politely with a fake smile and abruptly walked out of the office, leaving the president alone to his thoughts.



and a Black Flag



Valourous, Abhean Flagship, in orbit around Abhean

The modified Imperator Star Destroyer Valourous, accompanied by the homebuilt Countess-class Escort Cruisers, hovered over the crystal ball that was Abhean. It was the largest starship that the Abhean’s venerable navy, started hundreds of years ago, possessed. Captured from an Imperial warlord, the damaged destroyer had been completely refitted at Abhean’s vast orbital yards; the same that had built the Jedi Cruiser Chu’unthor centuries ago. The Valourous was highly unique in that it had been outfitted with weapons taken off of Victory Mk Is, carrying over 140 concussion missile tubes beside an array of quad turbolasers and double turbolaser cannons; more firepower than typically necessary for a planetary defence fleet. It was the pride of Abhean, and the heart of its military.

“Welcome aboard, Director.”

“Thank you Commodore Nimitz,” replied Rand, walking through the bridge’s foyer, “I trust you received my message.”

Nimitz nodded. “I have. Let’s retire to my quarters. Lieutenant Bradiss, you have the bridge.”

“Aye sir.”

The two walked out the massive ship’s bridge to the nearby captain’s quarters. Nimitz’s quarters were typical for a career officer in a defence fleet; there were more personal mementos and furnishings within it than would be allowed in any mainstream navy. It had been his home for over a decade. Nimitz quietly closed the door and turned towards the woman.

“This could be hell.”

Rand nodded. “I suppose it could. Which is why we need as much evidence as possible.”

“You think that the evidence you’ve shown me isn’t enough? Coupled with the man’s public denunciation of the bill that could expose him?”

“There will be some people that will say that the evidence is inconclusive or that he was framed. It’s not that hard for them to believe considering my family; they think that it is I that wants to ascend to power and innocent Rearden was in my way to it.”

Nimitz let out an exasperated sigh. “Which isn’t too hard to believe since if the president is removed from power, interim power between elections falls to the leader of an agency or branch of military; decided by the Congress. And in the mind of the people, with your family’s financial power, they could probably buy enough votes to get you elected. The start of your rise to power.”

“Except that I don’t want the position; and last time I checked, you were the one with the political connections.”

“That’s very informed of you,” stated Nimitz, walking over to the wet bar, “Care for a drink?”

“No thanks. I believe it is my job to be very informed.”

“That it is. So what’s the next step?”

“We look for more evidence.”

*

Laureion, Abhean

President Rearden glanced over the newer bills from Congress. The Majority leader, Representative Gartis, was proposing a budget expanse for the navy in order to eradicate the recent piratical raids which were beginning to worry the citizens. Representative Kurskow, the minority leader, had proposed a program that would begin arming of civilian ships operating out of Abhean to deter pirate attacks. Both had passed overwhelmingly, much to the surprise of many observers. Rearden only had to sign the bills for them to become law. Something he would do if he wished to remain power.

“Something you didn’t expect, Mr. President?” questioned Director Rand, walking into his office and motioning at the various datapads scattered across the man’s desk.

Rearden smiled. “It was nice for once to not have to deal with the bickerings of both parties.”

“Oh?”

“Why yes,” stated the President rising from the chair, “how much time of mine is wasted by both parties trying to convince me one way or the other when I’ve already made up my mind. Co-operation between them is rarer than I would like.”

She smiled. “Or co-operation between you and Congress?”

“That too.”

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that they’ve made another headway together. Something of an alliance or team effort.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” nodded the Director, noticing a pair of secret service agents walking in.

Rearden frowned. “Agent Foray, I wasn’t expecting your presence to quarter after.”

“I’m sorry sir. You’re under arrest under statute AS-231,” stated the agent.

“What?!”

Rand stepped forward. “You’re under arrest for aiding and abetting enemies of the people of Abhean. Congress and the military don’t tend to be very pleased when their every effort to solve a problem is thwarted by a traitor; especially when it’s their leader.”

“This is preposterous.”

“Well,” stated Rand, “this is the first time in some hundreds of years a President in office has been arrested. It is a definite first time ever that we’ve arrested one for espionage.”

“So what proof has your family arranged to be manufactured this time?” spat the old man.

“Well fortunately for me; none, so I should have a little retirement money left over,” smiled the woman, “Remember that bill that I wanted you to get passed for less intelligence gathering restrictions?”

“Is this how you repay friends?”

“Typically not; but that bill enabled the agency to gather some circumstantial evidence on you that might suggest you were giving away intelligence because you’ve accessed our intelligence and military files more than any other president. In fact, we noticed that you had also been sending out information off-planet shortly after you had viewed those files. Now, we couldn’t exactly pry open to see those files because of executive privilege, but that bill you passed, let us see what you were sending. But even then, you could have gotten away by saying that you were forwarding it to an agent undercover. It wouldn’t have been the first time that a president has involved himself with one of Abhean’s Intelligence work.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I was doing just that.”

She smiled. “You might have gotten away for it except for one thing: we have your recipients of your communications. We know who you were sending it to. You see, the Confederation just captured the Diablo several hours ago. They’ve had a chance to run through the ship’s computer logs and interrogate their command crew. They’ve confirmed the sender’s address, even if they don’t know that it was you.”

“This is absurd. And why would I do this?”

“Power. If the pirates got out of hand and continued on their spree, the people would do anything to get rid them. You know this; that’s why both bills passed in this week in Congress. It isn’t hard to imagine you following in Palpatine’s legacy, assuming emergency powers and evolving into a dictatorship. Did I mention that Congress likes their own power as it is? They might not have that under you.”

“So this is what the parties have co-operated on, framing and arresting me?”

She shook her head. “No, this was a joint effort between the Abhean Intelligence and the Military. Congress has done something else. Something that will be more impacting in the long term.”

Rearden blinked. “What is that?”

“They’ve voted to join the Confederation.”


Who were the real pirates?

White Knight



The woman was dressed in gray, seated by herself in a gun-metal room behind a silver metal table. She was waiting. She did not fidget nor did she express any of the tell-tale signs of impatience so many before her had exhibited. It was certain that she would wait where she was till Coruscant's sun burned out and the galaxy itself went the way of the Yuuzhan Vong before looking at her wrist chronometer.

Such implacable patience made the white-haired female interrogator behind the sensor window frown and glance back at her datapad as if to reassure herself of the information contained within.

She nodded to the stormtrooper waiting nearby and the room's door opened quickly. The interrogator was surprised that the quick action of the door's opening did not draw some sort of startled surprise from the woman seated before her.

She mentioned it by way of starting a conversation as she sat down. It was a careful plan of attack and was a typical performance as she went about her business of seating herself, opening the digital files contained in her datapad and verifying the data. It was a performance designed to give her an insight into what kind of person she would be interviewing.

By the time she had completed her performance, she realized that the seated woman before her had not started answering her questions. Usually, the more timid would have started to speak but stop themselves realizing that the interrogator was still asking questions. Conversely, the more bold would keep answering even raising their voices over hers to keep up with her questions.

The seated woman simply stared at her and when the interrogator gave a hand gestured for her to answer, an eye slightly widened and she spoke deliberately answering the interrogator's questions in reverse.

It was condescending and it irritated the interrogator.


"My Imperial record identifies me as Captain Malice. You should not require my verbal authentication of this fact as I have been summoned to an audience by his Imperial Majesty and would have already gone through painstaking identification verification procedures upon arriving.

If I am here and his Imperial Majesty's safety hinges on a meeting in this room and my verbal verification of the identity contained in your datapad, then he more than likely would be dead already.

As to the reason for my being here, I was summoned by his Imperial Majesty. I was not given a reason and the Emperor is not obligated to provide me with one. If he did not see fit to give you the reason for my summons, then I would surmise that he feels you do not need to know either.

As for why I did not display surprise at the door's opening, I was trained not to be surprised by facts. Being summoned by the Emperor is a surprise. The door opening to an interrogation room is not."


The older woman narrowed her eyes at the younger woman seated. The gray uniform was standard in the Yaga Minor Protectorate and Captain Malice was a rising star under the tutelage of Supreme Commander Drayson. The black leather jackboots were polished to perfection which either was a testament to Drayson's unrelenting standards or her original patron, Simon Kaine's, attention to detail.

In any case, the superior attitude of the woman (even if a product of her teachers) needed to be taken down a notch.

The old woman's eyes coldly raised. "The name, Malice, is not standard for the Imperial Armed Forces and therefore, your answer is incorrect. I ask you again, what is your name?"


The younger woman's eyes crinkled slightly in amusement. "Again, my Imperial Military Record identifies me as Captain Malice. If this identification is not standard for Imperial Armed Forces then it would not appear so on my Military Record."


"I will not address you by a moniker nor will I indulge the egotistical fantasies of military personnel!" snapped the interrogator.


"You recognize the exploits of such soldiers of the Empire as Darth Vader, Darth Sidious, Darth Poreon, Darth Tyrannus? The fact that you are able to sit here, with a soldier of the Empire, in the Palace of Imperial Center, glaringly testifies to the efforts of these people known by no other name! I do not think that there was a Mr. and Mrs. Vader who named their son, 'Darth'," the young woman twisted the knife, "so you will give me the satisfaction of addressing me by the name my military record identifies me with!"


The interrogator angrily tapped a few notes into her datapad but she doubted she would need them. Already, this 'Captain' was branded in her mind as "Trouble".

"Captain Malice," the interrogator relented but spoke the name clinically, "it is because you will be in the presence of his August Majesty, Emperor Hyfe, that we take these precautions. If I feel that you are unworthy of being in His presence, I assure you that you will not see Him."


"I would imagine that if I was not worthy of his presence, I would not have been summoned to his presence."


"Being summoned does not mean he knows you!" snapped the interrogator, clearly finding the stoic attitude of the young woman unhinging.


"He must know something about me if he summoned me," pressed Captain Malice and the interrogator had to admit that she had a point. So the older woman tried a different approach.


"The Emperor knows Simon Kaine. Even so, we were on alert during his visit to ask the Emperor's blessing for Bhindi Drayson's succession to his position. Imagine how much more so for you we are prepared, Captain Malice, whom he knows even less."


The woman in gray raised an eyebrow. "I had not realized his Majesty feared so much."


The interrogator sputtered for a moment in outrage. "The Emperor does not..! There is no..!"

After a calming breath, she spoke with deadly clarity, "There is a difference, Captain Malice, in fearing danger and recognizing danger."


Ever so slightly, the younger woman nodded.


"And I represent a danger?" she asked.


The interrogator smiled, "That is what we are here to find out."

White Coat, a Grey Perspective and a Black Flag





"My real name is Portia Rearden. I was the only daughter to former President Rearden of Abhean.

Despite Abhean's democratic auspices, it was ruled by a group of elite families that controlled our world's major industries through giant corporate fronts. One company, Gallidor Industries, is owned by the Rand Family who also controls the planetary intelligence communities and who was responsible for my father's rise to Abhean's office of the Presidency.

My father was an idealist and he was used for it. In the end, he was arrested as a traitor to the people for sending sensitive information to 'rebels and pirates' and Abhean joined the Contegorian Confederation.

Because the Rand Family labeled my father a traitor, my family's assets were seized and I was left with nothing. I put as much distance as I could between myself and those who gained from my father's downfall, the elite families, the corporations and the Confederation.

I found myself living among the dregs of civilized society and the things I did to simply eat I would rather forget. I was conscripted into the Imperial Army and found purpose once again rising to squad-leader.


It was not until I had killed a Sith on a mission he was leading, I use the term loosely, that I came under the notice of Simon Kaine and was recruited to become his protege.


Prior to his retirement, he transferred me to Bhindi Drayson's command to further my education and I have risen to the rank of Captain."



The Emperor's eyes narrowed as if searching for treachery. At long last he spoke, "The slaying of the Sith is what drew Kaine's attention and started a fortuitous set of circumstances for yourself. Did you know of Kaine's distaste of the Sith? Did you feed off of a general dislike of them within the Army? Were your squad-members contemptuous of those with abilities they could only grasp as small children?"


"No." was Malice's simple reply.


The Emperor smiled, almost sardonically. "Then why did you kill the Sith?"


Malice's answer was simple, concise and cold, "Because he was an idiot."


The Emperor's smile widened.


"And, yet, you were not executed for killing what was essentially a superior?"


Malice thought a moment. "The Sith, as a rule, do not fall into the chain of command within the Imperial Military hierarchy. At least, not in the sense that Governor Darksword would. Therefore, the Sith in charge of the mission was not technically a superior so the execution punishment did not apply. In any event, the mission was completed and since the Sith was 'in charge' of the mission, credit was given posthumously."


The Emperor scowled when Malice added, dryly, "I am sure he appreciated it."


Daemon Hyfe was not one to be put off his train of thought, however. "When Kaine retired, he took his vaunted 256th with him. Yet you, his last protege, he left behind. Why was this?"


"Because my purpose had not yet been achieved."


"And that purpose is?"


"The Confederation."



Now, Emperor Hyfe leaned back on his throne feeling that he was getting somewhere in clearing away the cobwebs of Kaine's inner thoughts as told by this female officer.


"You hate the Confederation for what they did to you father?"


Malice frowned, "They did not do anything to my father."


"But you blame them for..."


Malice shook her head. "I do not blame them for anything."


"Then what is your purpose with them?"


Malice smiled, "To educate them."


Before the Emperor could scowl at the ambiguous answer, Malice clarified, "The Empire feels it is right to bring order to the galaxy. The Confederation and the coalition felt they were right in attacking Billibringi. The Rand Family feels it is right in looking after it's own interests. My father felt he was right looking after his people's interests. The Confederation felt they were right in taking advantage of the circumstance to expand their territory. Everyone in this galaxy does what they feel is right and yet...


...yet people like me are hurt. Forced to live like animals and become the fodder for those smarter, those richer... those stronger.


It sickens me the old rhetoric the Jedi and the Republic-loving sods spew forth about their concern for the individual rather than the 'empire'."


She raised an eyebrow, "Where was their concern for me?"


Her head began to shake, "No, everyone on and around Abhean justified to themselves that what they did was right and so events happened the way they did.


But, do I hate them for it?



No.



Because I now understand it. I understand why and how it happened."



There was a nebulous danger that the Emperor felt in the force but it was being masked by his irritation and growing anger at Captain Malice's continued ambiguous responses.


"THEN-" he started to speak out in exasperation noting that his guards were tensing.


She must have perceived the sudden intensity within the room because she blurted out the answer to the Emperor's unspoken question, "The culmination of Simon Kaine's plan to ultimately defeat our enemies."


That nebulous feeling briefly sharpened but the Emperor's sudden curiosity compelled him to remain patient in his uncovering of the inner plans of Kaine.


"It first stems from ideology, your majesty. Supreme Commander Kaine saw very early on that an enemy's actions could be anticipated and predicted based on their governing ideology. The Jedi predilection to jump to someone else's defense if their own sense of right and wrong were tweaked, for instance. The Coalition is a powerful example of the success of Kaine's planning using their governing ideology as a model. It limits their actions and there is a clear line of demarcation of what they will and won't do. And, since the stronger the idealist, the stronger they are willing to die for their ideals and so, we are very happy to allow them the privilege to do so. They satisfy the tenents of their belief and we have one less enemy. As a result, the Coalition only goes so far and no further. Hence, we are taking them piece by piece."


The Emperor grinned. "Ideologies are merely the facade used to sooth guilty consciences."


Captain Malice nodded. "Yes, my Lord. This fact was seen in the Old Republic. At it's inception, thousands of years ago, those members, including the Jedi, were loyal to such lofty ideals as justice, peace and honor and during the end, their loyalty was merely too democracy. As if the fact of promoting one's leadership by counting noses automatically made you and your government virtuous, noble and just. Therefore, Kaine also took into account that with defeat after defeat, 'lightside' idealism would give way to something far more dangerous to us: cold pragmaticism. Not quickly to be sure for people hate to be thought of as being a damn fool but, he figured, they would hate the idea of losing and dying even more."


Daemon Hyfe stood up, allowing himself to stretch to his full height while keeping his thoughts to himself.


Captain Malice waited patiently for the Emperor of the Empire to pace back and forth on his raised dias as if looking for a flaw in her words.


When he stopped, he glanced at her and said, "Our enemies adapt."


The younger Captain nodded, "They do indeed, your majesty. We saw this with the rebellious Contegorian Confederation breaking off from the main Coalition body. It seemed that they did not want to die for something as innocuous as ideology and so shrugged off the bad publicity of abandoning their former comrades choosing to be content in the knowledge that they staved off certain defeat."


The Emperor frowned, "Doesn't the Confederation still think of themselves as the inheritor of 'lightside' ideology?"


Captain Malice shrugged, "You said it yourself, Sire. Ideology is the cloak in which guilty consciences hide. The Confederation is reported to even be soliciting Coalition satellite regions to follow their example and break faith with Prime Minister Regrad. Perhaps they feel if they can cause one or more of these regions to join them it would justify their betrayal."


Emperor Hyfe waved his hand in the air, "Who cares what helps Confederation people sleep at night? The point is, no matter what 'lightside' facade they use to lure idiots into joining them, they are, deep down, pragmatic and will, more than likely, toe the line with us in terms of brutal warfare, yes?"


Captain Malice nodded. "It is possible, Sire. If they are pragmatic about it and do shed their ideological facade to meet us toe to toe, then we get to the real meat of the issue and my purpose."


The Emperor folded his hands expectantly.


"You see, Sire, the Onyxian Occupation Zone was set up by Supreme Commander Kaine to be a microcosm of the Coalition as a whole. The ease or difficulties we experience in subduing a faction that has not sacrificed their ideology for the saving of their skins (as the Confederation has) would be told in Occupation Zone. The Coalition may have the military strategies of a retarded Jawa but, above all else, they have remained true to themselves."


The Emperor smirked, "At least those with the backbone to keep faith with the Coalition-Proper and not skip out with the Confederation."


The young woman continued, "Therefore, the Imperial High Command has two schools of education. With Kaine's plan, enough pressure was applied to the heavily idealistic Coalition democracy to split it. Now, on the one hand, you have those true Coalition members, those with the backbone to stick to their ideals as you say, that stand against us. Their empire is smaller to be sure but they are no less fanatical about their cause and we deal with that fanaticism in the Occupation Zone and we are struggling to understand how and why a dying ideal, if followed by true believers that care more for their cause than the skins on their back, can still cause us trouble. And then, on the other hand, you have those more pragmatic people of the Confederation, who will sell out their mothers apparently to save their skins or reputation. They are a proud people who used the Coalition to their own ends (mostly economic ends) and then dumped them when the going got tough."


Hyfe laughed, "They hated the fact that because they were subservient to Coalition Law, they had to follow the direction imposed on their Prime Minister Regrad by us. We showed the galaxy the hypocrites they really were."


He added wistfully, "You never saw democracy act so fast.."


Captain Malice again shrugged. "Be that as it may, the shift in the Confederation toward the pragmatic puts our struggle with them in a more readily understandable form."


The Emperor sat back down, sighing. "How so, Captain?"


"As Grand Moff Zell would say, there is no more bantha-shit separating us. The Confederation has removed their moral-high ground. Which brings us to me.

The Empire believes it is right in what it does. The Confederation believes it is also right in what it does. We cannot both be right if we are polar opposites, and so we are at an impasse, at least as far as ideology goes.


Therefore, realistically, there is only one criteria for success.


The Confederation absorbed Abhean because a legislative body voted for it. They voted for it under the direction of the Intelligence Community keeping the rest of the government in the dark. The Intelligence Community was under the control of a leading elite Family. It was this elite Family that had controlling interest in Gallidor Industries whose profits were being tripled by Contegorian patronage. This corporation's interests were being hampered by Colonials who refused to be used. To bring them to heel, those in power required Contegorian military intervention, which required the vote to join it by our auspicious Congress and only one man with veto power stood in their way.


My father, the President.


By branding him a traitor, Gallidor gets what they want by using the Contegorian military to do it's dirty work and the Contegorian's get what they want in territory expansion and more people to tax to fund their war machine."



The Emperor leaned forward as if looking into the younger woman's mind and suddenly liking what he saw.


"Simon Kaine gave me the ability to understand what was done. The pragmatic value the destruction of one man brought to so many and the true nature of this Confederation.


I understand why it did what it did and I understand how.


And so, as a result, I do not hate it."




Hyfe saw that the woman's voice had grown distance.





"The reason why Gallidor could manipulate as it did, the reason the Rand Family could manipulate as they do, the reason the Confederation would attempt to manipulate Coalition satellite worlds to their own ends is the same reason I will succeed in my purpose. Therefore, just as I do not hate them and they cannot hate me for we are the same."



The Emperor felt that nebulous warning in the back of his mind once more but persisted in spite of it, "There is no longer any moral high ground."



"And so, your Majesty, I plan on returning home cloaked with the only thing that matters in this struggle between empires, without the high-sounding, time wasting morality speeches of hypocrites...



Strength!"



Hyfe smiled grimly. "History is written by the winners. We are righteous and we are virtuous because of our strength. Your enemies will have no choice. They will either match you for strength or be swept aside."



Captain Malice nodded, "Like Gallidor did to it's competition. Like Rand did with my father. Like the Confederation did with Abhean."



After a pause, "Like I will do with them."



The Emperor frowned, "Young woman, what makes you think that hypocrites like this Confederation will not yet again shed their skin to suite the situation and play at being the Coalition again? With all the high sounding, pious and time wasting sentiments of someone plying for a moral high-ground? What if they do the same thing they did with their betrayal of the Coalition? It was craven, despicable and Lupercus Darksword is probably beside himself with regret that he did not think of this first, but, according to the Confederation, it was legal.

Your planet of Abhean choose to join this Confederation therefore their presence is legal."


"Congress voted without the President's knowledge. Secret and quick voting, while popular with the Confederation in trying to get out of accountability and betraying one's friends, was not an Abhean practice, especially without the knowledge of Abhean's elected President."


The Emperor shook his head as if Malice were a slow student of politics. "But your dear father, the President, removed himself from political consideration by being charged with treason."


Malice ticked off her fingers, "First, the vote happened before my father was confronted and charged. Second, Abhean was only democratic on the surface. Executive and Legislative offices were the gambling cards of the main corporate families. Thirdly,--"


"It does not matter, Captain," the Emperor coldly interupted. "No one will care when the vote took place if your father was a traitor. Who cares that he did not have a chance to veto it? He was a traitor! Otherwise, that fact might have played out in whatever trial he received."



Captain Malice nodded, "That is true. The legal irregularity of Congress was glossed over when proof was presented to the court that Gallidor shipping information was being transmitted from my father's private office to the Colonials, or 'rebels and pirates' as they say."


The Emperor nodded, "So, as I said, when the Contegorians try to cry rivers regarding their precious, if hypocritical, stance of a moral high ground..?"


Captain Malice frowned, "Their entire takeover of my world hinges on my father being guilty of treason."


Deamon Hyfe became patronizing, "And you believe him innocent."



The female Captain stared at the Emperor in surprise, as if he sprouted a second head, "Of course! Especially since I was the one who used my father's terminal and code to warn my boyfriend of Gallidor and Ayn Rand's plans."



The Emperor stared at her for a moment as if judging the sincerity of her words when he suddenly burst out with a laughter that lasted quite a while.


When he was done, he sat in silence wondering just what he would do with the female captain before him.


"Captain Malice, you were conscripted under anonymity, your past unknown to all but you. This personal information has not been entered into any database and ISB is fuming to uncover something damning. Something like the fact that you are a native of a world outside the Empire. If Kaine or Drayson know your origins, they have wisely kept it to themselves. Knowing this, you could have tried to lie to me about who you are but you at least have enough respect for the powers of the Force to know that such efforts are impossible. Especially from me!



Therefore, irregardless of this storm you want to brew against an unsuspecting and unknowing enemy, I have one question of imminent importance to me to ask you: What if Kaine should return to seize my throne? How will you stand?"


Captain Malice gave her Emperor an odd look. "I will follow the stronger, of course."


Though this was left up to interpretation, there was no doubt in the Emperor's mind as to who was the stronger in a contest between himself and Simon Kaine.


He gave the young woman a considering gaze. "Colonel-General Wes Vos is being moved to a place more receptive to his particular set of skills. This has created a command vacuum and this is my consideration today. Depending on how much of his old command remains in place, to I sign off on IHC in-house promotion or do I take advantage of the situation by brining in new blood? You are the last of Kaine's people still in this part of the galaxy and, while I consider the man troublesome, there is no denying his successes. I would be foolish not to place his protege in a place where she will do those most good." He grinned at the mentioning of the word 'good'. "Your secret will remain mine but, know this: your rise or fall will be dependent upon the quality of your service to me."


Captain Malice bowed low. "Command me, Lord Hyfe."


Emperor Hyfe, pleased with himself, waved a hand. "Rise, Commodore Malice."


A black flag indeed...