The planning for the campaign against Zsinj went better than Grand Admiral Makati had expected. Isard was uncharacter-istically willing to give him free reign in requesting ships, equipment, and personnel, including the elite 181st Fighter Wing that had seen only limited action since the defection of Baron Fel. When he submitted his final plan to her review, he'd braced himself for the usual series of line-by-line criticisms masked as suggestions. Instead, he received only a set of broad suggestions that, rather than working against his existing plan, fine-tuned certain points and perfected what had already been his aim anyway. It was almost like the review had been written by someone else entirely.

Makati had thrown himself so fully into his campaign planning that he barely had time for anything else. After receiving the review from Isard, it felt strangely relaxing to return to his penthouse, take off his uniform, take some brandy from F-4GR, and read over the fleet activity reports.

It was a big galaxy and there was a lot to report, so mostly he skimmed the entries. A lot of them reported skirmishes between Isard's forces and the Rebels. A Corellian corvette and a squadron of X-wings had been destroyed during an attempted raid at Paqualis, while an Imperial star destroyer and a few support ships had been captured by the Rebels during the retreat from Milagro. There were also reports, second-hand, of skirmishes along the border between Zsinj and Teradoc's territories, including rumors that Teradoc's Crimson Command had destroyed one of Zsinj's destroyers at Belderone. Another note said that Jerec had moved Vengeance out of the Sullust System, current location unknown.

Makati was about to put the report down and look up blitz-ball scores when he saw a report from Boudolayz. The planet was out-of-the-way and lightly-populated, but it did have a Ubiqtorate data storage center. The Rebels hadn't attacked it until now, but they must have ferreted out its location.

He called up the full report and read it. Eight X-wing fighters had arrived, chasing a shuttle carrying ISB operatives into Boudolayz Orbital Station. The fighters eventually retreated, but not before blowing several large holes in the Boss, one of which had apparently killed the station's commander as well as the ISB agents, whose identities had never been officially verified. According to the report, they'd attempted to run in their shuttle and been vaporized by the X-wings right before they fled.

Something didn't smell right.

Makati contacted the Ubiqtorate and requested a full damage report from the attack on their facility. For a normal officer, that kind of request could have taken days, but Makati was a grand admiral, and he spent only ten minutes pacing in his study and fending off F-4GR's questions before he had the whole thing.

The report was thorough, as expected. Attempts had been made to analyze the debris left after the attack. Mu-class shuttle debris had been found in space, but there had already been two of those in the station's hangar when the rebels blew it open. The report noted that the fleeing shuttle had been hit at close-range with two proton torpedoes, but could not identify and of the shuttle debris conclusively. Nor had the corpses of the four human crew and two Bothan prisoners been indentified. Bodies had been flushed into the vacuum during the attack and ruined by decompression, making them very difficult to identify, though by some stroke of luck, the station's commander, one Heimon Drayk, had been spared the torture of the vacuum. When the compartment he'd been in had been blown open, everything free-standing had been sucked into the vacuum except for Drayk himself. His body had been pulled beneath a console and stayed there, awk-wardly wedged against the deck until rescue crews in vac suits examined the area.

Drayk's body had still been damaged by decompression, but medical examiners believed that the tear around his throat had been made by a sharp object, possibly shrapnel. The examiners took images of the dead man's body before and after his autopsy. Vacuum-bloated corpses were always ugly, but Makati forced himself to give Drayk's remains a look-over. His eyes naturally revolted at the horrific face and swiped downward, to his uniform. Then they locked on the dark liquid stain that stretched halfway across Drayk's chest. It looked like blood, but not human blood.

He wasn't sure what effects open space would have on body fluids, so he patched in a call directly to Boudolayz Orbital Station. It was almost midnight in Imperial City and the Boss's internal time was synced with the capital's. A very tired-sounding tech answered Makati's call, then became very attentive when she realized who she was speaking to. Five minutes later, Makati was talking with the chief medical examiner who had handled Drayk's corpse. Five minutes after that, the examiner stepped away, and ten minutes after that, the examiner reported that he had just tested the blood sample on Drayk's uniform. It was not human. It was Em'liy. Makati thanked the medic politely and shut off the connection.

"How very strange," F-4GR said behind him. It nearly made Makati jump from his chair. The droid, though, ignored his master's alarm and continued, "I'm sure no such alien was serving on the station's crew. Perhaps it was an escaped prisoner."

Makati made a mental note to contact the Boss about their detention center, but he was already near-certain what the answer would be. He shifted in his chair to face F-4GR and said, "There was no Bothan blood. And no Bothan corpses."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"When the battle started there was a shuttle with two stormtroopers, a human in ISB clothes, and two Bothans in stun-cuffs. After the battle there's no sign of any of them. Only blood from an Em'liy."

"Em'liy are large creatures, sir, but I believe one could fit inside a stormtrooper uniform, although it would be a tight squeeze."

"Very clever." Makati smiled against himself. "You have to give the Rebels credit where it's due. They raided an Ubiqtorate data storage facility and almost got away with it."

"Oh dear. If they have all the data from that base, they might have records of the requests you've been making about Bandomeer. They might even figure out where our next offensive will be."

"I had the same thought."

"But sir, what good would it do them? That planet is, for the moment, securely in Zsinj's hands."

"If it's a tempting target for us, it will be tempting for them too." Makati, suddenly full of energy, got to his feet and started to pace.

"A three-way battle at Bandomeer would be… Well, it would be very messy, sir."

"You forget, Forger, the Rebels try to avoid a head-on battle when they can. Do you remember what happened to Syn at Kashyyk? He was fed intel by people claiming to represent Teradoc, offering assistance. Syn planned for backup but backup never came and he got obliterated by the Rebels. And Grunger and Pitta? I've analyzed all the records Grant took at Tralus. What Pitta did with his torpedo sphere, wiping out Grunger's fleet, that should have been impossible. But he did it, and the only way I can see how is that he had a spy on Aggressor feed in him data on Grunger's fleet, so he'd know exactly when and where to strike."

"But sir, there is no proof that the Rebels were behind it. And Grand Admiral Grunger, well-"

"Grunger and Pitta killed each other, but someone helped them along. Just like someone helped kill Syn."

"Sir… I don't mean to be alarmist, but does that mean someone is after you as well?"

Makati took a deep breath. Of course the Rebels would be after him. He'd be stupid to assume otherwise.

But it felt different, knowing.

For a second he felt a trill of fear, and he thought about calling off the Bandomeer offensive. Then he pushed it aside. The Emperor had made him a grand admiral and it wasn't because he shirked his duty whenever he got spooked. This was a problem but he could solve it. The Rebels might come for him but he could beat them. If he couldn't, he didn't deserve his white uniform.

"Sir," said F-4GR, "I hope you know I would sacrifice all my plating and circuits to keep you safe"

A sudden emotion took Makati; a little boy's love for his metal friend. He patted the droid on his battered shoulder and said, "I appreciate that, but if the Rebels try something like they did with Syn, I don't think you'll be much help."

"Nonetheless, sir, I hope you'll allow me to remain by your side."

"You belong no where else, Forger. But right now… I think I need help from elsewhere."

"And… where may that be, sir?"

Makati thought but said nothing. He could muster only a few options, none of them good, but if the Rebels were going to intervene at Bandomeer, they might be the only thing that kept him alive.

-{}-

Qinla Saaris was used to having ISB customs agents skulking around his dock, but he could tell in a second that these guys were a different league entirely. There were two of them, both human, one with pink skin, the other brown. Both were dressed in the black uniforms intel agents wore, but without rank badges, which was a bad way to start.

Keeping his voice as calm as possible, Saaris asked, "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

"We have question about a person of interest," Pinkskin said. He didn't introduce himself, but these kind of agents never did. That's what Saaris had heard, anyway. He'd made it through life without having major run-ins with Imperial authorities and he wanted this one to be as short as possible.

Brownskin said, "We believe the person in question boarded your transport yesterday morning."

"Really? And how do you know that?" That stared at him balefully. Cursing internally, he said, "Well, it doesn't matter. Can you give me a description? Human? Non-human?"

"We'd like to pull your passenger records for that trip," said Pinkskin. "You do register all outbound personnel in your computer, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, of course I do. It's required by law after all." He paused. Technically, legally, these guys were required to present a warrant before they searched his corporate records. He had a feeling this was the wrong thing to bring up.

He went over to the computer and brought up the passenger manifest lists. "You said yesterday morning, correct?"

"That's right," Brownskin nodded. "Where was the ship headed?"

"It was going up the Hydian, like all our transports. We run limited express services, so we stop at Corulag, Champala, Paqualis. Used to stop at Chandrilla and Brentaal, but, you know." He leaned forward and whispered, conspiratorially, "Rebel scum."

Brownskin seemed unimpressed. "So your service stops at Paqualis?"

"Uh, no, sorry. Stops at Corsin, actually." He hadn't wanted to tell them about Corsin because it was de facto Zsinj's territory. Then again, if he was a law-abiding citizen who only heard what was on the official newsnets, he wouldn't know that. Then again, they'd know about Corsin anyway the second they looked at the passenger manifest.

Brownskin interrupted his chain of internal profanity by holding out a data-stick and saying, "Please, load every manifest for the past two days."

"I thought you just wanted… Oh, never mind. Of course, sir. You'll have them all."

Saaris tried very hard to keep his hand from shaking as he took the datacard, plugged it into his computer, and trans-ferred the manifest catalog.

It only took a second. He handed it back to Brownskin, put on his best polite smile, and said, "Is there anything else you need, sir?"

"We'll let you know," Brownskin said, very ominously. He pocketed the chip, turned, and walked out of the room, Pinkskin right behind him.

He peeked through the window of his booth and watched them go. They'd been gone for a good five minutes before he finally stopped shaking.

-{}-

"'We'll let you know?'" LaRone said as he and Bright-water stepped inside their ship "What were you trying to do, terrify the poor barve?"

"Just playing the part. Aren't we supposed to be creepy ISB agents or something?"

"It was like you were channeling- never mind." LaRone bit his lip. He still tried very hard not to think about the ISB agent he'd shot back on Accuser.

"Whats the score?" Grave stuck his head out of storage room down the main corridor, where he'd been going over the weapons stockpile the grand admiral had graciously supplied them.

"We got the data from the transit company," Brightwater took the datacard out of his pocket. "Now let's plug it in and see if Isard's tracer led us to the right place."

The three of them climbed the ladder up to the second deck, where Marcross was examining the galley. Quiller clambered down the ladder from the small cockpit on the third deck to join them. Quiller had never flown a MandalMotors ship before, but he said the basic control layout wasn't that different from their old Suwantek freighter.

Once they'd all convenyed in the galley, Marcross took the chip and plugged it into the room's main computer terminal. The display screen brought up a long list of names matched with destinations and times of registry.

"Fierfek," Grave muttered, "How are we supposed to make sense out of this?"

"Bring up the one from yesterday morning," LaRone told Marcross.

"Got it. Looks like… Oh, lovely. Eight hundred and fifty-two passengers."

"Can we get more on them besides names?"

"Let me see..." Marcross leaned in close and typed something into the console. "Okay, here we go. Links to the info from everybody's identicard. Includes name, species, height, sex-if-applicable, even planet of legal residence."

"Well, she's clearly going to be traveling with a fake ID," said Brightwater.

"They've got pictures too," said Marcross.

"That doesn't mean much. I'm sure she's changed her appearance. You know, cut her hair, maybe dye her skin. Probably get retinal lenses. She might even be disguised as another near-human species."

"Yeah, but her ident probably marks her as female. That's usually harder to hide."

"Might narrow it down a little," said Marcoss. "What about height? That can't change too much."

"One-hundred sixty-two centimeters," Quiller said quickly.

They stared at him. He shrugged awkwardly. "Give or take."

Brightwater rolled his eyes. "You know her other measure-ments too?"

"No. Stop it. Don't make me sound weird."

"Yeah, don't want to give people the wrong impression."

Ignoring them, LaRone leaned over Marcross' shoulder and asked, "Does that help any?"

"We can filter the results, so actually yes. Now we can try going through the photo records."

Identicard photos were of notoriously poor quality, and the ones stored in Saaris Transport Limited's passenger database were no exception. Each image was two-dimensional, highly pixelated, and for some reason mono-chrome even though they should have been full-color.

But it was all they had to go on. They let Quiller lean in to get a better look as they flipped through the images, one after another.

They were almost through with the pile and LaRone's confidence was finally starting to dip when Quiller said, "That's it! That's her!"

They all peered over his shoulder for a better look. It was a human woman with dark cropped short, nothing like Wynssa Starflare's famous gold locks. Her eyes were brown and her expression dour.

"Are you sure that's her?" asked Brightwater.

"Yeah, I think I see it too," Marcross muttered. "The shape of the nose, and the cheekbones..."

"Didn't know you were a fan," LaRone said.

Marcross blushed, just a little. Quiller added, "Height checks out too. Says she's getting off at Corsin. End of the line. It's like the grand admiral said. She's trying to run from Isard even if it takes her into Zsinj's territory."

"Maybe," said Brightwater. "Or maybe she just bought the longest ride so she could throw people like us. You know, get off a Paqualis instead."

"There's no way we can know for sure," Larone shook his head. "We have to assume she's going to Corsin."

Brightwater patted his shoulder and said, "Let's go back. Saaris might have more on- what's she going as?"

"Reina Auveron," Quiller supplied.

"What kind of things?" asked Marcross.

Brightwater shrugged. "If we're lucky, bank account info, though I bet she paid with hard currency. He can at least tell us what she was wearing, what kind of luggage she had."

"Good idea," LaRone nodded. "The rest of you, start plotting a course. See if we can figure out the fastest, safest way to Corsin. I bet we can get there about the same time since we're not making extra stops."

He and Brightwater hurried out of the ships, back to the landing port. They barely remembered to tug their black ISB uniforms straight before going back into Saaris' office. When they stepped through the door, the Togruta was bent over the counter, talking to a pair of squat blue Mrlssi customers. When he saw LaRone and Brightwater his eyes almost popped out of his skull.

He recovered quickly, though, and ended his business with the Mrlssi with a polite smile. As the chattering little aliens left the room, Brightwater stepped forward. Saaris stood his ground and held the counter tight with both hands.

"Well," he smiled, businesslike, "What brought you two gentlemen back?"

"We'd like to question you further about a passenger. You registered her as Reina Auveron."

"I see. Well, give me a moment to check the register. It should refresh my memory..."

The Togruta scooted over to his computer and called up his records. LaRone saw his eyes go wide again. Saaris looked at the two humans and said, "Yes. Yes, I do remember her. I… take it her name isn't Reina Auveron?"

"Did you suspect she was using a fake identicard?" LaRone shouldered next to Brightwater.

Saaris's head wagged back and forth. "Oh, no, definitively not. I'd have never allowed her on my transport if I did." He paused, then added, "The customs agents, they didn't stop her either. I mean, they inspected her case, but that's all."

"She had one case?" asked Brightwater. "Only one?"

"Yes, only one. Not a huge one either." He waved his hands, shaping a rectangle a meter wide in the air. "I thought that was... Well, a little unusual."

"In what way?"

He blinked. "I don't know. I just… did. What was really unusual, though, was that she didn't pay with a card."

"Credit chips?"

"That's right. She was going all the way to Corsin, which isn't a cheap trip. Most beings use cards for those kinds of purchases, you know."

LaRone exchanged looks with Brightwater, then asked, "Can you remember anything else? Or do I need to remind you of the penalty for abetting a fugitive?"

"No, no you don't. She said she was going to meet her husband on Corsin, but maybe that wasn't true." Saaris added, defensively, "There was no reason not to believe her. She didn't seem to be doing anything wrong. And I'd feel terrible, you know, harassing a pregnant woman."

"Pregnant?" Blackwater's surprise slipped through.

"Oh yes, definitely pregnant. Not just fat." The Togruta waved both hands in front of his own paunched belly. "She said she only had a month or two left before spawning."

LaRone ran through quick calculations in his head. She'd probably gotten pregnant just before Baron Fel went to Brentaal and got captured. He might not even know he was having a kid.

He had a feeling that was going to make things a lot more complicated.

Saaris continued, "She was wearing a dress, I remember that. A brown dress, rather plain and loose. And a black shawl over her shoulders. No jewelry, I don't think. Does that help?"

LaRone added sternness to his voice and said, "It suffices for now. We'll let you know if we need your… assistance again."

Saaris nodded dumbly as they walked out of the office.

"You have to admit," said Brightwater, "This is kind of fun."

"A little," LaRone sighed. "You want to tell Quiller his girlfriend's spawning or should I?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to take the honor."

-{}-

It was only a short jump from Coruscant to the garrison planet Anaxes, but it felt like he was leaving the Empire entirely. When Grand Admiral Makati's shuttle reverted to realspace, over a dozen Imperial-class star destroyers ringed a world with violet seas and blue-green continents. Not even Coruscant had this many defenders standing by, though by all rights it deserved to. As his shuttle curved around the planet's orbit, the super star destroyer Whelm slid into view. It was a beautiful grey-and-black dagger, nineteen kilometers long, bristling with weaponry, as deadly and graceful as its sister ship Executor.

To Makati, its beauty seemed like an insult.

His shuttle set down in Whelm's auxiliary landing bay, which was still more vast and cavernous than any other ship's main hangar. Over a hundred stormtroopers stood at attention as he walked down the landing ramp. It was a fitting greeting for grand admiral, but it all felt hollow.

Admiral Feyet Kiez was there too. Azure Hammer Command had been Grand Admiral Teshik's until his death at Endor; then it had fallen to his second-in-command. Kiez was less than forty, trim and healthy, and while some said his promotions had come from family connections, Makati knew the man was a capable soldier. Once, a long time ago, Kiez has gotten his start as first officer on Makati's command ship.

Kiez snapped a salute and said, "It's an honor to have you aboard, sir."

"At ease, Admiral." Makati said. "I came here for a private conversation, not a parade."

"Of course. If you'll follow me, sir, we have a conference room prepared."

As Kiez led him past all those rows of white-armored soldiers, Makati wondered what the point of the show was. A sign of respect, perhaps, or maybe a bit of bragging on Kiez's part. No, the Kiez he'd known wasn't the braggart type. He did, however, know to show strength, and make his point clear without using words.

The choice in conference rooms was a case in point. Its forward viewport looked out toward Whelm's bow, some thirteen kilometers away. Anaxes' surface glowed to one side; more star destroyers glistened on the other.

"You must be very proud," Makati said as he sat down.

"We make sure the soldiers here are always alert. Regular full combat drills, intense training, all of it."

"You're battle ready, but you don't seem keen on fighting a war."

Kiez chuckled easily and dropped into the chair opposite Makati. "I know why you've come here, sir."

"You only know some of it. And don't call me 'sir.'"

"All right, then. Afsheen, you want this ship, don't you? Isard has some grand new offensive planned and she wants Whelm to be the centerpiece."

"The offensive is all mine. Isard only approved my plan."

"Surprising. In my experience, that woman is an insidious micro-manager, despite the fact that she doesn't know a damn thing about how to fight a war."

Makati couldn't bring himself to honestly object. Instead he said, "Kiez, I think the battle ahead is going to go three ways. Whelm would be a critical advantage."

"Three ways? You, the Rebels, and who? Zsinj? Teradoc? Jerec? Or does Isard want revenge on Krennel?"

"You can't expect me to spill my battle plan."

"All right. So you, the Rebels, and someone with a very big star destroyer?"

Makati gave the tinest nod. That was telling enough.

"Well. I can see why you would want this ship."

"It's not just that, Feyet." Makati leaned forward. "What are you doing here? What's your plan? This is Anaxes. This garrison, is here for one purpose: to defend the Core."

"Exactly. If the Rebels breach the Core, my ships will be needed."

"The Rebels have breached the Core. They're sitting on Brentaal right now."

"No one asked for my help at Brentaal."

Makati gave a long, deep sigh. It was an open secret that Isard had let the Rebels take that world to humiliate Pestage as a prelude to deposing him. That might have won her the regent's throne but it didn't win her much love from the military. They also knew that the dirty, stupid games those schemers played with soldiers' lives had started long before Isard; she just happened to be better at them than most. On one level, Makati could understand Kiez's reluctance to join the greater battle.

But on another level, a deeper level, it was utterly indefensible.

Makati straightened himself and looked Kiez in the eye. "Do you reall think Grand Admiral Teshik would have stayed here, sitting on his fleet while the Empire is struggling to survive?"

Kiez flinched. Kiez had stepped up to fill the gap Teshik left behind but they both knew he could never match the grand admiral's tactic genius. Apparently, Kiez couldn't match Teshik's resolute loyalty either.

"Teshik is dead," Kiez muttered. "The decision is mine now. I'm trying to do the best I can with what I have."

"I didn't come to beg, Feyet."

"You shouldn't be begging at all. You shouldn't be fighting for Isard. You're better than her."

"I'm not fighting for Isard! This entire galaxy is tearing itself apart. Hundreds of thousands of men in the same uniforms as ours just slaughtered each other at Tralus. Rebel anarchists are capturing entire worlds. Do you remember the Clone Wars, Kiez?"

"I was a child then." The admiral avoided his eyes.

"The Clone Wars ruined my world, and hundreds of others."

"I know that."

"Palpatine wasn't a perfect leader, but his death was a disaster. Endor let loose a wave of destruction that will ruin this galaxy. The Clone Wars will be nothing in comparison. We have to stand against it. The center must be held. That is our duty, as soldiers of the Empire."

"You can't stop a wave, Afsheen. You have to ride it."

"So what will you do, then? Sit here with your fleet and wait for the wave to come to you?"

"I'm not sending my men to die for Isard."

"They're not-" Makati stopped and shook his head. "I'm sorry. This is pointless, isn't it?"

With sympathy, Kiez said, "You can stay here, if you'd like."

"On Whelm?"

"It's not like Isard's in a position to come and take you back."

"Frankly, Feyet, I'm surprised she hasn't tried to kill you by now."

"What makes you think she hasn't?"

Makati opened his mouth, closed it. He shouldn't have been surprised.

"You know I won't stay with you," he said at last.

"I do. But I wanted to make the offer."

He looked out at the glowing planet, the gleaming star destroyers, the thirteen kilometers of stretched-out super-structure. With a fleet like this, taking Bandomeer would be easy. But he'd known it would never happen, even before coming here. He'd just wanted to see his friend and be rejected face-to-face.

Makati sighed and stood up. "I should be getting back to Coruscant. I have a campaign plan to finalize."

"I'd prepared a meal."

"Thank you, but… I don't think I have the appetite."

Kiez rose too. They stood on either side of the table, staring awkwardly across it. There was nothing to shake hands over, and there seemed nothing else to say. Makati turned for the door and Kiez followed. They walked back to the shuttle in silence.