Lesson nine in the Imperial Officer's Battle Manual says: "In order to do good, one may have to engage in evil." A Rebel would look at that sentence and think that we use it to justify the evils that we've done, but I look at it and realize the truth that because good happened, any evil is nullified. For instance, the Emperor's critics say that the extermination of the Jedi was an evil act. Even if I overlook the fact that the Jedi were arrogant, exclusionary, reclusive, hereditary, autocratic self-preservationists attempting to control the Galaxy to push their tired philosophy and view them as I would any group of people, if their extermination was the only way to secure peace, prosperity and well-being for the rest of the Universe, I think it would be selfish of them not to exterminate themselves. Of course, it's a moot point since we now know them to have been treasonous dogs. They paid the price for their lack of vision. Sadly, another faction must now do the same. A promise to myself and to history: neither Durlock Acibor nor his Bravo Squad will "engage in evil" to do our good.

Millennia ago, before blasters and Hyperspace technology, a great statesman said: "A house divided against itself cannot stand." The context of his quotation has since been lost to history, but it rings as true today as it did then, the Galaxy will not stand as long as the Rebellion stands. On the day of the creation of the Empire, His Lordship said: "Under the Empire's New Order, our most cherished beliefs will be safeguarded. We will defend our ideals by force of arms. We will give no ground to our enemies and will stand together against attacks from within or without. Let the enemies of the Empire take heed: Those who challenge Imperial resolve will be crushed." It's a shame that those dirt farming Rebels have never gone to a library to read that speech.

I sat in the ship, fastened in tightly next to Rhykis, who had chosen silence rather than to risk upsetting me again. Fair enough, I guess, he'll learn in time what's and what's not. Larosz was explaining something to Dey'Vega, which was pleasing; good to see the lads bonding. I was left to my thoughts; I had to think about the mission. Clearly, Xela had arranged for some help on the mission, that good man.

Colonel Xela Atsoc. Xela is the only human who ever chose to become my friend. He's a Colonel, leader of the 101st Nova Regiment, which, I'm very proud to say, is presently attached to the Imperial Star Destroyer Avenger, in Lord Vader's personal fleet. Xela has been in closed meetings with the likes of the late Admiral Kendal Ozzel, current Admiral Piett, General Maximilian Veers and even Lord Vader himself. Of course, in meetings like that, Xela doesn't get to speak, but just to be in the same room as those people would be a dream come true for me. Xela was even in orbit during our glorious victory at Hoth VI; though he and the 101st didn't see ground combat, he was still very proud. He sent me this message after the battle:

Hey Dur, guess where I am? I'm sitting in my quarters on the Avenger looking down at the sixth planet of the Hoth System. Yeah, you know the place you're seeing on the HoloNet News right now? I'm there! It's pretty damned exciting. Me and the 101st were this close to seeing action, but Veers decided his boys didn't need help. Funny thing is that all Blizzard's AT-ATs went down except his own; the Rebels got clever and started tripping the bastards! Crazy, huh?

Things actually got a little crazy up here when the Rebs pulled out a KDY-150 Ion Cannon. I looked out my window to see a whole ISD get disabled by two blasts, letting a Reb transport and a pair of X-Wings slip by. The flyboys gave chase, but the bastards jumped the Big H before the little screechers could light them up. Pretty creepy, though, started to get worried that the traitors might cut the Avenger's power, but the reports say Blizzard stormed the KDY-150 before they could get any more shots off on us. Still, I think me and the 101st could've taken the Big Rebel Igloo without losing all our walkers, but I'm not going to fault General Max, I'll get his job someday.

I know you'd like to be out here carving Organa and Mothma into rotten sides of beef, but the rest of the Galaxy needs protecting too. Corellia's probably got more Rebels than Hoth does anyway, if you think about it. So nuke me some Rebs back in the Core and I'll talk to you soon, buddy.

Always Your Better,

Xela

I was thinking about Xela when I heard the hiss of the landing gear's pneumatic shocks engaging and the ramp lowering. Our cocky she-pilot unbuckled herself from the cockpit and came back to the hold to wish us well,

"This is where you get off," she said "I hope you enjoyed the ride, it was my pleasure to serve you gentlemen. Enjoy your stay in the most miserable metropolis in the Galaxy. I believe you already have my card, just give me a call when you need a ride." She smiled, sarcastically bowed, and scurried back to the cockpit. Hiska shouted a word of thanks to her backside while the rest of us checked our gear.

"All right, gents," I said, "Here's the plan: we're going to be incognito for this mission. Lieutenant Rhykis a crime lord with controlling interests on the fringes of Hutt Space named Cordolo Pirsig," Rhykis got all excited at the idea, "Pirsig is too important of a man to do his own talking, so I'm his Mouth, Miff Knopf. Larosz, you're Bolch, our Trandoshan muscle," he whispered a quick 'yes sir,' "And Hiska, you're playing Advan Eng, the wily assassin in Pirsig's hire," I watched Hiska's demeanor change instantly to suit his role, the clever little guy, "Our costumes are all here in this locker, courtesy of Intel," I kicked a footlocker along the wall of the derelict freighter, causing it to pop open, "Enjoy."

"I look frellin' ridiculous!" Rhykis cried after he put on his costume, a black top hat, white shirt, red vest and orange suit,

"You sure do, but it's the style among mob lords these days, so says Intel. It's not like you're trying to impress anyone anyway, Lieutenant, so just suck it up and act like a crime boss." I answered. The other two suited up without complaint. Larosz was just in a white muscle shirt, boots, and loose fitting black pants. Hiska had a very appropriate black duster and a neutrally-colored gray outfit.

As I stepped off the ramp and into the night air of the Smuggler's Moon, I was reminded of how much I love good, clean, Imperial space. The air was oppressive to breathe, the stench so powerful and repugnant. I could taste the stink of the place. All the combined odors of hundreds of millions of people in the levels below our landing pad assaulted my nostrils and I could see that the lads were affected similarly. If only we could be in full armor with helmets to filter the loathsome stench.

On the other hand, I decided as I walked to the end of the landing platform and looked out over the city, the view was quite nice. The flashing lights coming from the towers made the night as bright as day and created a friendly, civilized ambience. At least until you looked at the lights, they were all advertisements for some kind of vice or another. I could see that Larosz wasn't too pleased with the atmosphere of sin that perpetrated the economy of Nar Shaddaa, as his scowl seemed even more displeased than usual. Rhykis, on the other hand, could probably spend a few weeks of leave here.

"All right, that's enough sightseeing boys, let's get moving. Remember, we're incognito, get into character and stay there. And Lieutenant, keep your mouth shut." I raised my hand and gave a march-forward signal.

Now Intel wasn't too clear on exactly where this guy was supposed to be, they just gave us a sector of the planet to search that was a likely place for him to be garnering support for the Rebellion. This was a moon-city of several billion inhabitants, sometimes called "The Vertical City," we could've been searching that place for hours. However, Xela hooked us up with a little extra edge picked up on Hoth: his biosignature. The biosig wouldn't let us pinpoint him exactly, but it gave us a 100-or-so block radius of searching. And at that point, it's just a matter of finding the right pub.

Our right pub was The Sickly Kowakian, a rather large establishment, by Nar Shaddan standards. Over the entryway was the pub's name in Nal-Huttese lettering (lucky I know the language, eh?) with a glowing holographic image of a Kowakian Monkey-Lizard downing some intoxicating beverage, then in the next frame being passed out from drunkenness, it was just the place to find a Rebel.

Just outside the door, I stopped the lads to get a plan of action, "Dey'Vega, do you know the Huttese language?" I pulled him aside and asked in a low voice,

"Absolutely, my Captain" He answered proudly in the tongue,

"Good lad. I want you to work the tables, try to find us a good informant. Take Sergeant Larosz with you," I turned to Rhykis and spoke in Basic, "You and I are going to work the bar," his face lit up, "And work it with sobriety, Lieutenant." He calmed down, "Okay, boys, go to work. Lieutenant, come with me."

This is where things get tricky, when the squad is not only in disguise and surrounded by hostiles, but it has also divided. I'd taken a tremendous risk, but one cannot expect great victories without great risk. Rhykis and I had lost sight of Dey'Vega and Larosz in the smoky haze of the pub by the time we approached the bar. Aliens of all kinds sat chatting on their barstools, some were just depressed-looking drunks drowning their miseries in liquor, and then there was the bartender, reaping the rewards of said miseries, a Dug wearing the nametag of 'Bekulna,'

"Yo! Tender!" I yelled to him in Huttese, snapping my right fingers. He hobbled over on his hands, his feet getting unpleasantly close to my face. His side of the bar was clearly raised so that a Dug's unusual way of walking wouldn't handicap his ability to see and serve the patrons on the other side,

"What can I get for you two?" He asked in a very sinister, crackly voice characteristic of most Dugs,

"We'd like two of whatever you've touched the least, please." I answered, looking disgustedly at his feet,

He grumbled, forced a chuckle, and then asked more forcefully, "Do you want a drink or do you want to get the Hell out of my bar?"

"Yeah, get us some Pure Water and make it quick, we've got important business to get to,"

"I'll bet you do, buddy," This Bekulna was exactly what I expected to find on Nar Shaddaa, an unscrupulous alien profiting off the vices of others, it was an impressive show of capitalism. Logically, he should be very willing to capitalize on others' need for secrecy,

As the Dug went about pouring the water (which didn't look very pure at all) with his feet, I dropped the important question, "Maybe you can give me a hand with this business, actually. We're looking for a human, a tough smuggler type. Average height for a human, about as tall as the boss here," I motioned to Rhykis, who wasn't really paying attention, he clearly doesn't know Huttese, "Blonde hair. He's probably been in here trying to pick up some extra hands for his crew. Recruiting and all that. You seen him?"

Bekulna placed the glasses on the bar in front of us, releasing his toes' grip on them, "Yeah, that guy, sure. He's in here pretty much every day. Name's Dash, I think, one of those stupid smuggler names that them Corellians take. I couldn't tell you where he goes after he's done in here though."

Rhykis grabbed his glass and downed it eagerly, I decided to just let mine settle for a bit, "Does he get many men joining up with him?"

The Dug cocked an eyebrow at me and chuckled, "Now I don't keep my eye on this guy all the time, but it's not usually men he's taking out of the bar here. He might've signed on a few guys since he's been here, but Dash leaves here almost every night with one of the ladies. At least, that's who I'm serving drinks to, a human and a broad."

"We may have misjudged our opponent," I whispered to Rhykis, who nodded in reply, "Thank you very much, Mister Bekulna, you've been a great help." I put a nice tip on the table, which he greedily snatched up with his right foot before working the rest of the bar,

"So we get anything useful, Cap'n?" Asked Rhykis, sipping at his drink,

"Not anything groundbreaking. However, it seems our target may not be as dedicated to his mission as previously thought. The tender says he comes in here looking for ass more than recruiting Rebels. Not exactly the discovery of a lifetime, but it also means he's not on high alert,"

"That's cool, I guess," Rhykis looked up from his glass and pointed over my shoulder, "Here comes Dey'Vega and Larosz, they've got someone with 'em too."

"That's your cue to shut the frell up then, Lieutenant, or I should say Boss Pirsig."

The black Bothan was leading a very angry-looking Nikto (though, granted, I've never seen a friendly-looking Nikto) toward us, "Boss, Knopf, this is Gerdo, he says he knows where we can find our man." Dey'Vega's speech was perfect; he really is a chameleon in assuming new identities,

"Welcome, Gerdo, Boss Pirsig appreciates your help. What've you got for us?" I asked, standing up,

"I know where your Felth guy has been hanging out. I can take you right to him, too. But first, I've got to know what you want to do with the Human," He growled, standing at least two heads higher than me,

"He's been screwing up the Boss's business in the Fringe, we need to frell him up, teach him that we don't tolerate that." I answered, unintimidated with Larosz standing right behind him,

"I'll take you to him, but you're gonna have to do more than just frell him up, I need you to take him out. He's been ragging on Kamarilla the Hutt's girls, my boss, and she ain't gonna deal with it anymore. If you'll take him off our hands, I'll show you right to him." I nodded and offered the Nikto my hand, he took it, along with the generous bribe I placed there, "Boska." He said, commanding us to follow him.

Gerdo led us out of the bar to a turbolift. He pressed a button on the lift's control panel, causing it to rocket up at least fifteen levels in barely one second. We were now clearly in a residential area. Doors to cubicle apartments, barely five feet apart, lined the hallway; the filthy brown hallway lit only by a single florescent panel every ten doors. The Nikto brought us to a door numbered 1138, "This is it. He's in here. Have fun," he said grimly before heading back down the hallway to the lift.

"All right, lads, arm yourselves and get ready. Sergeant Larosz, you'll kick in the door, Dey'Vega will take point and clear the left, Rhykis has the right, I'll support." We prepared our E-11s and I gave the hand signal. Larosz roared and crashed his foot through the weak metal, ripping straight through it. The black Bothan rolled in, followed by Rhykis, crouching low,

"Freeze, Felth!" Dey'Vega ordered, aiming his carbine at the target, backed up by Larosz and Rhykis. I entered the tiny, 1-pane window room to examine the scene and, to be honest, I was rather surprised.

The Rebel was lying in a filthy stained bed with a Human woman clinging to him for safety. Oddly enough, he seemed to be keeping his cool, "Imps… great." He groaned,

"That's 'honorable soldiers of the Empire' to you, dirtbag!" commanded the Lieutenant. Well done, lad.

"Wait. How do you know we're with the Empire?" Asked Dey'Vega,

"In those getups? Yeah, that looks like Imperial Intel's work to me. Sure, you look like you belong on Nar Shaddaa… about three centuries ago. I've heard of retro, but you're ridiculous. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important places to be." He got up and went to his closet, starting to dress himself,

"Freezzze!" Larosz roared, firing a warning shot at Felth's feet, the woman in his bed screamed,

"Fine, fine. I'm not going anywhere." The Rebel had put on his pants and slipped a shirt over himself. He reached back into the closet, "Nah, I'm just messin' with you, I'm getting the frell out of here!"

The Corellian produced a rocket pack from his closet and engaged it. The four of us opened fire, Rhykis got lucky and hit him in the kneecap, but he bolted out the window before anyone could nail him. We did, however, manage to turn the woman into a scorched stain on the bed's headboard. Bravo Squad had lost its target for now, but we still had a room to search for evidence.