When Ganner stepped into the chamber he was immediately struck by the artificial chill in the air, the bleakness of the lights, and the reek of disinfectant. His eyes immediately fell from the pale walls to the two bodies laid on biers in the center of the room and the empress standing over them.

Antares looked disconcertingly calm as he lay there, hands folded over his chest as though to hide the place where the sniper's blast had taken him. The Bavinyari medics had changed him out of his wet clothes into a simple white tunic that looked stiff and unnatural on him. They'd dredged Sekh-Mad-Har and the airspeeder's pilot from the bottom of the channel as well and prepared the two Imperial Knights for transport back to Coruscant. As much as he respected the Cerean, all of Ganner's attention was drawn to his friend's body, and woman standing stricken over it.

Marasiah wore the same white robe they'd thrown on her after pulling her from the water twelve hours ago. His hair, rich brown with a thick streak of white, was a messy tangle falling on either side of her face. She didn't react when Ganner entered the room, nor when he stepped close. She simply continued to stare down at her husband's calm face, perhaps remembering peaceful times she and Antares had shared.

Ganner stepped on the opposite side of the bier and she still didn't look at him. Part of him wished he could reach out with the Force to soothe her; the other half was glad he couldn't feel her pain.

Because he was just a man now, Ganner had to reach her with simple tools. He raised his voice and said, "The Bavinyar Security Force has locked down both islands. Nobody's entered or left since… since the attempt on your life. They're willing to let you go back to Coruscant, of course, but they've promised to see this investigation through."

Marasiah blinked repeatedly. It was her first reaction to his presence. Still looking at Antares she asked, "Do they have suspects?"

"No. They've examined the wreckage of the speeder. They say the starboard engine must have been hit. They think it was a high-powered portable weapon. It was probably the sniper from the bridge. How many people were involved in this, we can't really say…"

Ganner trailed off. There was no telling who had done this or why. The possibilities were vast and terrifying to contemplate. He wished they had something specific, anything. He needed a focus for the anger, hate, and grief welling inside him. He needed someone to hold responsible.

The empress asked, "What about Astraal and Master Rae?"

"They'll be all right," he said. Neither had suffered so much as a scratch, but it felt wrong to say so. "Majesty, I think you should head back to Coruscant soon. Especially given what's happened at Terminus. The admirals will have all kinds of questions, and the people need to see you."

"You mean they need to see my strength?" Marasiah said bitterly.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to presume."

Marasiah sniffed and drew herself straight. "A leader must always be seen to be strong. My father told me that, many times. I always tried to follow that rule. Even when we lost the throne. When Darth Havok killed my mother, and when my father died."

Ganner remembered all those times. He'd admired her stoicism then, but everyone had a breaking point. He wondered if the Force gave her any strength at a time like this.

The empress lifted her head to look Ganner in the eye. "You said I should go to Coruscant. Not we."

He nodded. "I'd like to stay on Bavinyar and help find Antares' killer. I've talked to Azlyn, and she wants to stay too. Astraal's agreed to take you back to Coruscant."

The phrase suggested she needed to be cared for and he immediately regretted it, but Marasiah didn't object. "You're not a police detective, Master Krieg. What do you think you can do without the Force?"

"I don't know, but someone has to be here to watch the investigation and make sure they find the assassin." He swallowed and pressed on. "Majesty, we failed you. We failed you and we failed Antares and if we can't make up for it this way-"

"Don't," she said, quiet but firm. "There was nothing you could have done. I felt the attack coming in the Force and I…" She looked back at the body between them. "I couldn't do enough either."

Ganner let a long moment pass, then asked, "So can we stay?"

She nodded. Another silence passed, and then Marasiah said, "Can I tell you something, Ganner? Something you must never tell anyone?"

That she'd used his first name struck him as much as the question. "Of course," he whispered.

"Antares killed my father."

The words rocked him almost as much as his friend's death. his mind filled with questions, bus also understanding. Antares' listlessness since Roan Fel's death made shocking sense. He'd been carrying regret deeper than even Ganner had imagined.

He licked dry lips and asked, "Why did he kill the emperor?"

"My father was…. an angry man. He lost his father and brother to the Sith on the same day. And later on he lost his wife, and then his empire. There was so much hate in my father… During the final battle for Coruscant, it got control of him."

"There was love in him too."

"I know." Marasiah sniffed. "There was so much light in him that for a long time I couldn't see the darkness. I didn't really see it until that last battle. He was willing to wipe out every life on Coruscant, just to slay the Sith. All those billions of lives… He had to be stopped. Antares was the only one strong enough to do it."

Ganner's mind flashed back to all the arguments they'd had over the years. So often it had been Ganner arguing that their duty as Imperial Knights was to the light side of the Force, while Antares had insisted their emperor was final arbiter of right and wrong. Behind his friend's stubborn patriotism had been a deep conflict between duty and justice, but he'd never imagined the conflict would resolve itself in such a way.

Despite his grief and shock, Ganner also found himself proud to have known a man with the strength to choose right, even if it meant betraying his emperor.

"It had to be done," Marasiah whispered. "I know that. And I think Antares did by the end. I think he accepted it."

He looked at his friend's calm face and saw it in a way he never had before. "I hope so."

Marasiah's hands balled to fists at her side. "Do what you have to do see justice done, Ganner."

"I will, Majesty. I promise."

-{}-

Gar Stazi was a soldier, not a spy, but after barely surviving the machinations of the Sith-Imperial War he'd learned to be suspicious. The events at Terminus and Bavinyar seemed to incredible too coincide by accident.

Unfortunately, the details were aggravatingly unclear. A day after the dual tragedies, Marasiah Fel's shuttle was en route back to Coruscant with the body of her husband aboard. The assassin had yet to be found and Bavinyar's security team was collaborating with the empress' agents to get to the bottom of it. Terminus, meanwhile, was totally shielded from view after the Nagai found and destroyed the Federation's observation satellites. No one had any idea of the planet's conquerers had thrown a party or massacred the entire population.

Hogrum Chalk was normally not a man who emoted much; not only was his demeanor reserved but his face was mostly obscured by burn scars and mechanical implants. Nonetheless, the intelligence director's frustration was plain as he explained all he didn't know to Stazi.

"Jaeger and Slossar have regrouped most of their fleets at Sluis Van," Chalk said. "They've been sending scout ships, edging closer to the occupied sectors, so hopefully they'll have more to report soon."

Stazi had already heard as much from Slossar. Pacing behind his desk he asked, "How in the hell did the Ssi-ruuk get into the picture? I thought they'd been acting civilized recently."

"The Ssi-ruuk entered into negotiations with the humans and P'w'eck on Bakura. Just hours before the attack on Terminus, they withdrew without warning, taking some P'w'eck with them. From what Ambassador Storr's been telling us, the Ssi-ruuk were trying to drive a wedge between the humans and P'w'eck. If we thought their intentions benign we may have be seeing only what we wanted to see."

"Is Storr still on Bakura?"

"Yes. The Jedi too, Master Vao."

Stazi knew the diplomatic corps been giving the Jedi pity work and didn't see how it could help here. "Send more intel agents. I'm betting someone on Bakura knows more than what they're telling."

"I agree. Getting straight answers from the P'w'eck won't be easy, but we will try."

"Good. I'm also going to be sending more ships to Sluis Van. They'll need reinforcements."

"Admiral Bey?"

"That's right. I know I don't have authority to order any Imperial admirals anywhere, but Jaeger will need backup too."

"He's requested it. Fenel and Yage are sorting deployments out now."

"Good," Stazi nodded. He wasn't foolish enough to think a crisis would bind Imperial and Alliance together, but it didn't seem to be cleaving them apart. "What has the empress had to say about this? I only talked to her briefly before she left Bavinyar."

Chalk inhaled. "She's yet to address the Ssi-ruuk situation directly. I'm afraid what happened on Bavinyar has hit her very hard."

"I understand what's happened, and it's a tragedy, but we can't allow it to slow our reaction to this new threat. I think that might have been why she was attacked in the first place."

Chalk raised one brow. "Do you?"

"I don't have evidence. Call me paranoid if you want."

"No, the thought occurred to me too. I'm looking into it, I assure you."

"Thank you," Stazi said. Jumping at shadows was Chalk's job.

"I'm taking both these crises very seriously. Until they're dealt with, they'll be prioritized above everything else."

Stazi didn't like something in those words. "You're not referring to the speaker's election, are you?"

Chalk hesitated, avoiding the admiral's eyes. He seemed to calculate the costs and befits of silence before saying, "Considering the current threats, and in respect for the empress' grief, several senators are drafting a plan to delay the vote."

"Imperial senators? Eldon?" He'd thought Bastion's candidate would want to get the vote over now, while public sympathy for Marasiah was high, but then these were Imperials, always looking for a quick way to shed the trappings of democracy.

"They'll present the resolution when it's ready," Chalk said vaguely.

"No. Absolutely not. If democracy gets suspended for every crisis it's not a democracy at all. The election must go forward."

"With all due respect, that's for the senate to decide, per the agreement you pushed the empress to accept."

Stazi glared at the man. "You're right. That's for the senate to decide. I'll respect its decision."

"I'm very glad," Chalk said, without a hint of mocking.

Stazi was glad when the human left his office, but now he was angry as well as edgy. He should have seen a move to block the election coming; Marasiah's honorable nature had lulled his defenses against the usual Imperial backstabbing. He hated politics and hated being trapped to a desk on Coruscant. Given the choice he'd much rather be riding to war against the Ssi-ruuk with Slossar and Bey.

But he was stuck here, and he still had to do what he could to protect Alliance values. Once he'd calmed himself, Stazi dropped into the chair behind his desk, activated his encrypted personal comm system, and patched in a call to Senator Porat Derrol's residence.

The holo-image over his desk resolved not to the long-horned Chagrian senator but to his hornless wife. "Good afternoon, Madam Derrol," he said. "Is the senator available?"

"He's at a Justice Council meeting. He won't be back until the evening. Do you have a message for him?"

Stazi hesitated. This woman had no official standing, but he had more important things to do than play comm tag with Derrol, and the senator had specifically said she could be trusted with anything.

"If Porat doesn't know already," he said, "Some imperial senators are drawing up legislation to postpone the speaker vote. Out of respect for the empress' grief, they'll say."

"I see." Her expression clouded.

"I hope you do. If we're going to transition this new government to democracy we can't let the Imperials derail us at the very start. Porat, Brighton, and their allies need to pool support to stop this motion."

"I understand. Thank you for telling us, Admiral."

"I'm doing what I can protect Alliance values."

"Just like you always have." She smiled faintly. "I'll let them know immediately."

The holo shut off, ending the short call. Stazi slumped in his chair and thought. What he'd been doing might have been a violation of the neutrality agreement he'd made with Marasiah, but he felt no regret whatsoever. If he'd been a stickler for rules he'd have surrendered with the rest of the Alliance at Caamas and Krayt would still reign supreme. Then as now, he answered to no authority except his conscience. In his heart he knew he'd done the right thing.

Despite all that was happening, Stazi smiled. It was good to know he was still himself, even trapped behind a desk.

-{}-

The Bavinyari clearly weren't used to being the center of galactic attention, and their security agency threw every possible resource into hunting for the assassin. With so much manpower on the case, all of which knew Cephalia better than Ganner and Azlyn ever could, there was little for the Imperial Knights to do except stand over the investigators' shoulders. The Bavinyari treated them with a mix of respect, obsequiousness, and just a little fear, the kind they rarely got on Coruscant lately. It almost felt like the old days.

Local authorities seemed to be doing everything correctly. They'd placed Cephalia and Maressa on lockdown. It was guaranteed that no spacecraft, airspeeders, or even boats had left the islands since the assassination attempt. They'd taken Ganner's tip about the sniper on the maglev bridge and were pouring over every scrap of security footage to track unauthorized access.

They were taking the right steps, but Ganner still bristled with impatience. As they waited Azlyn theorized aloud why the attack had taken place.

"Bavinyar's always had an anti-authority streak," she said. "There's bound to be a lot of people who are mad that we've basically forced them to accept millions of refugees."

Guessing games were pointless when they had no facts. He knew Azlyn was trying to distract him from his grief and decided to play along. "Whoever attacked us had military-grade equipment and knew how to use it. They also knew how to get onto that maglev bridge. That says they had a plan in advance."

"Depending on how hard it is to get on that bridge, they might have thrown it together quickly." Though they were alone inside the Bavinyar Security Agency headquarters she lowered her voice. "They might have been sent by someone with government connections, someone who's not happy with the deal that got rammed down their throats."

"Maybe. Or maybe this is about something else."

"You mean what's happening in the Outer Rim?"

"Or the senate elections. Or something else. Maybe even the Sith, or what's left of them." In a way he wanted it to be Sith. Better Antares die because of them than some random angry local.

"We'll just have to see where the evidence leads," Azlyn muttered.

Hours later they were drawn into a private office by the BSA's chief director, a middle-aged human named Doral. He carried himself like a man itching to act, and Ganner knew they'd found a hot lead.

"We were able to analyze the security feeds from either side of the maglev bridge," Doral explained as he removed a portable holo-projector from his pocket.

He tapped it once and began flipping through magnified images, grainy and medium-resolution like most security holo-cams took. He tapped through several shots of a human male in a light-colored shirt with a brush of pale hair atop his head. In the first few images the man had a meter-long cannister connected to a strap and hung off one shoulder, perfect for carrying a high-powered military-grade sniper rifle. In the last images, which seemed to have been taken from the same cameras, he was moving in the opposite direction and no longer had the rifle case.

"He must have dropped his weapon in the water," Azlyn said.

Doral nodded. "We're getting a team out there to search, but there's no telling how far currents carried it out before it hit the bottom of the channel."

"What about the man himself?" asked Ganner.

"We pictured him coming from and returning to Cephalia. We have holo-cams placed throughout the central business district and we were able to track him moving through it and into one of the residential districts on the north side of the island."

"How can we track him from there?"

"I've contracted the BSA district office nearby. They're putting the streets on lockdown and canvassing the area for public assistance."

These Bavinyari were taking things seriously. "Once we pinpoint his location we have to move fast. I want him alive, if at all possible."

"We understand." Doral pocketed the projector. "I'm about to go on-site. You're welcome to join me, but I recommend you armor up first. This might get hot."

By the time Ganner and Azlyn had strapped on their red plates, Doral had donned a black plasteel vest and was joining a heavily armed and armored BSA insertion team. Their black police cruiser shot into the air and raced over Cephalia's stone-and-glass cityscape, weaving nimbly between skyscrapers as it made its way to the residential area on the island's northern slope. Peering through the porthole windows, Ganner saw a half-dozen more boxy airspeeders circling the sky like predatory birds. He doubted the people of Cephalia had seen a manhunt like this before.

Doral's speeder joined the circle as the police chief commed someone dirtside. Ganner's left leg twitched up and down as mounting tension filled his body. Antares' killer might be in their hands within minutes and he wanted nothing more than to tackle the man himself and beat truth out of him with his fists.

Azlyn placed a hand on his bouncing thigh, stilling it. Quietly she said, "Stay calm. Get your head clear."

He was surprised to be admonished. He'd always tried to draw on the Force for guidance, and in many hard situations he'd been the one to lecture Antares on the need for calm. He'd done the same to Azlyn more than once. Without the Force to hold him together, Ganner felt like pieces of him were coming apart.

When Doral finished his call to the ground the speeder veered hard left and began dropping altitude. The chief told his passengers, "We have eyewitness reports of the man we're looking for at a rent-house. Stand by to deploy. Surround the building and cover all exits. Do not engage until I give the order."

As he said the last bit his eyes met Ganner's. The other man simply held them.

The speeder's drop accelerated and Ganner's gut lurched before they hit the ground. As soon as they did the cruiser's side doors slid open and the BSA strike team piled out with military precision. Ganner and Azlyn followed, each carrying a standard-issue blaster rifle. They still kept lightsabers at their belts but the things felt like useless decorations.

The building they surrounded was a three-storey permacrete block, drab and slightly run-down. A sign on one side advertised cheap temporary rents, and as he followed Doral, Ganner's mind did quick calculations. If the gunman was using a place like this he probably wasn't local. Maybe he'd come from another island just to get a shot at Marasiah. Maybe he'd come from another planet entirely.

Two more police cruisers set down on the lots surrounding the motel. More armored police piled out and had the entire place encircled within a minute. More patrolled the skies, probably watching for runners, but the surrounding streets looked deserted. The neighborhood's civilians were probably laying low and waiting for it to be over.

Ganner and Azlyn crouched beside Doral, who'd taken cover behind a parked landspeeder. Dampness gleamed on the police chief's scalp and Ganner realized he, too, was sweating under his sun-hot armor. They peeked their heads over the speeder's front hood and scanned the windows to the motel, all closed.

"Do we know which one he's in?" asked Azlyn.

"The owner says second floor, northwest corner."

Doral jabbed a finger at one set of windows. The curtains were drawn tight and Ganner could see no motion behind them. If he had the Force he might be able to sense if the room was occupied, and even the occupier's intent. Instead he asked, "When do we go in?"

Doral glanced back at him. "I'm sending in one team to clear the building first. I recommend you stay back, Master Krieg."

He opened his mouth to object but Azlyn said, "We understand, Chief. Are you ready to move?"

In response Doral took out his comlink, called his men, and requested confirmation they had all exits secured. One lieutenant after another replied affirmative until Doral whispered, "Aurek Team, go."

Once again, the Bavinyari impressed. A full dozen armored police charged the hotel's front doors, which slid open to accommodate. At the same time two more cops fired projectiles from shoulder-mounted launchers that smashed through the windows of the northwest room and began filling it with smoke.

And then, for a few excruciating minutes, nothing happened. Vapors furled slowly out of the broken windows but no one on the outside moved, and no laser blasts sounded from inside. Ganner saw no flashes of light, no signs of activity. He wanted nothing more than to rush inside himself, but he remained crouched behind the landspeeder hood, hands curled to fists, heart pounding in the silence.

Then, finally, Doral's comm buzzed. "Report," the chief said.

Ganner could barely hear the reply: "Building is secure. No shots fired. Suspect is down. Repeat, suspect is down."

"Understood. We're coming in." Doral pocketed the comm and told the two Knights, "Stay with me."

Doral walked into the motel with hands open at his sides, but Ganner kept his rifle up just in case. The building's interior was only slightly less shabby than its outside, and a handful of police were waiting in the lobby.

"Let me see the body," Doral told one lieutenant, who quickly guided them up a flight of stairs to the second level. They filed down the narrow hall, past closed-tight doors until they reached the open one at the end.

The air was thick with residual gas and Ganner put a hand over his mouth and nose to keep from getting dazed. Three more police were standing in the middle of the room, facing the bed. There was a body sprawled there, feet dangling off the edge, chest arced toward the ceiling. The face, topped by a blonde fringe, was recognizable from the security cameras, as were the clothes. The blaster bolt had gone in through bottom of the jaw and exited through the back of the head, and the pistol used seemed to have tumbled from a limp hand off the bed and onto the floor.

It was a grim scene, but not surprising. What Ganner noticed next was. Red paint had been splashed across the room's longest wall, messily conveying the assassin's final message. The words Death to All Tyrants! sat beside the hastily-scrawled but unmistakable phoenix emblem of the Galactic Alliance.