I am back, my loyal readers...Zero-dark-fort-eight local time, I have to get up in five hours and drive like four hours to Cinci to do a show. I'm stoked. So totally stoked, sleep evades me, and I'm giving you all the chapter I promised before my trip. So enjoy my friends!

Drakken walked down the corridor and paused momentarily at the T-junction at the end to send a look down each hall. He perked up an eyebrow and took a left, the correct way, if he had remembered his directions from Lights. He passed by a sitting area with a few bookshelves and nodded. A few more meters down the way, he stopped at a hatch and knocked. The hatch slid open, and Sergeant Daraay, sans her helmet and armor, stood aside to allow her commander entry.

"Sir?" The Death Trooper queried. He turned about to face her.

"Sorry to bother you while you're off duty. I couldn't find Felian." He said. "I'm sure you heard about the Imperial ship that got hit last night." She gave a nod.

"I did, Commander." She returned. "Ekks informed us of the…incident."

"A Gozanti, sergeant…right out here on the Hydian. They're getting brave, I think."

"The rebels have been building momentum in the ferocity and frequency of their attacks." Daraay commented, pouring herself a cup of something hot. She poured a second and handed it to Drakken. "What do you make of it, sir?" He took a sip of the caf in the cup, and his tastebuds seemed to crackle to life with much zeal and zest. He licked his lips.

"Damn, sergeant…this is some goof caf." He remarked. Daraay took a sip herself and the edges of her lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile.

"I think so too, sir." She said. "It came with the room." Tharcourt leaned in close.

"Steal it." He whispered. "Jack as much as you can and take it back with us. This is some good stuff." The tall woman smiled again.

"Yes sir." She returned, took another sip, and added; "I was going to recommend just such an operation myself." She raised an eyebrow, a habit the stalwart Death Trooper picked up from her commander. "You were talking about the rebels, sir?" Drakken slurped the caf and grimaced.

"Why'd you have to ruin it?" He grumbled. "Yeah, I was having my doubts before this mission about them attacking this ship, but now I want everyone to be on high alert, sarn't. If I sound the alarm…" He huffed. "You bring payload of hardware?" She motioned toward two crates at the back of the stateroom.

"My MWC-35c is in one of those, and the other contains weapons selected by the troopers, along with a supply of stun grenades and thermal detonators." She stated. "Sergeant Felian has similar supplies cached in his stateroom, sir…and Gallen has his weapon in his. We are prepared for most contingencies, commander." He took a drink of the sweet caf in his cup.

"Everyone know what to do?"

"Yessir. Everyone has their assignments and the entire team knows the layout of the ship…as best we can."

"Mmm." He hummed. "Good to know. Let everyone know that if I say the word, it's definitely go time. Everybody needs to be A-number-One hos-tile and mo-bile." He said the last part in a sing-song way that only military men can muster. "You guys keep them away from the shipment. Thorne and I will handle the first-class section along with the Master at Arms if necessary."

"Loud and clear sir." Daraay said firmly.

"So…how's your vacation, sarn't?" Tharcourt asked.

"The onboard gymnasium is better than I'm used to." She replied.

"Your guys' rooms good enough to pass a comfortable night?"

"The rooms are excellent sir." She answered. "And you? How was your night?" Drakken looked up from his caf. He smirked and his eyes flicked away to the side.

"Hn. Best I've had in a while…" He said cryptically. He opened the hatch and raised his cup in a toast. "Thanks for the brew, sarn't." He grinned. "Best I've had in a while."

….

"It is quite the kafuffle that Pran'si Industries decided not to sell their holdings after all…" A business tycoon from Coruscant commented as the guests sat about the lunch table. "…rather threw a wrench into the affairs of various interests who were looking to buy into such stable ad profitable factors of production."

"Mm…I agree." A Muun droned. Drakken stifled a scoff as he speared a vegetable with his fork and dipped it into some sort of creamy white cheese. If the food weren't so good, he would almost eat rations and junk food in his room like a hermit, rather than listen to these people gossip.

"Well I made sure to hedge my luck on Blastech shares years ago!" A woman in a fur wrap bragged. "Oh, who would have thought the shares would have tripled as they did. This accursed war has practically bought me a new penthouse." There was a round of quiet laughter, and Drakken forwent propriety and tossed a piece of meat into his mouth with his fingers.

"Do you have any holdings, Commander?" Someone asked. He looked up and about the table as the wealthy passengers all stared at him expectantly. A rotund woman in a feathery hat spoke. "What sort of investments does a man of your rank and privilege indulge in?" He took a sip of tea and glanced over at Freya. She was intentionally stuffing her mouth with fruit so as not to have to answer any questions. Traitor

"I have um…some holdings yes." He stated. "There's my Imperial retirement fund I pay into." Some of the passengers nodded, feigning interest. "But I'm not sure that would pay for more than fuel cells to get to the bank." They laughed.

"But heavens, surely you have something set aside for a rainy day." The woman spoke again. Drakken smiled to himself. Technically, he did have holdings, just not the sort these people were talking about.

"Yeah...I do believe in being prepared. I suppose you can say I invested in future markets, and have a couple uh…hedge funds set up…out in the Mid Rim and Outer Rim, you know?"

"Ah." The Muun said agreeably. He heard Freya giggle quietly at his joke.

"Solid play, old man." An industrialist said. Drakken gave a faux smile and a nod and went back to assaulting his lunch with a quiet desperation.

After the meal, Drakken and Freya walked along the promenade deck side-by-side They smoked cigarras as they made their way along the deck, taking in the view of the Chardaan shipyards. The Princess Latania had stopped briefly near the world for an hour to take on and offload passengers. The short layover was an opportunity for the pair to enjoy a view of the milky-colored world off the port side of the ship, and its impressive space docks and freight stations. Freya noticed Drakken looking off into space distantly.

"Creedit fer yer thoughts." She quipped.

"Mm. Just thinking." Drakken answered. "The rebels…the ones that smoked that Gozanti…where did they come from?"

"An' where did they go?" Freya added.

"Exactly. It would've taken more than a couple starfighters to take out that ship. Maybe a heavier ship with a lot of guns. They boarded…so they had to have had at least one larger vessel." He continued to think out loud. "They usually have at least a dozen men on one of those things, so the rebels had to have had them outnumbered and outgunned when they got on board."

"It points t' a small army o' them, don't it, love?"

"Looks like…" He muttered as the large passenger vessel began to move forward again. "They must have a base near to where they struck…either that, or they have some kind of roving fleet." He waved his hand. "Eh. Probably not. Unless they've changed up their whole M.O. or strategy."

"Darlin', ye can go mad thinkin' up all the possibilities." Freya said. "We nae got enough intel t' be making up our minds." He nodded solemnly.

"You're right." Drakken breathed. They started walking side-by-side toward the front of the ship. "Guess all we can do is wait. On the bright side, we're almost halfway to Eriadu. I'll feel a lot better when our cargo gets offloaded." He thought for a moment. "The suspense is killing me though. I think a little later, I'm going to go down and see if that lieutenant knows what's in the crates." A crewman walked past briskly, carrying a small case labeled 'Biscuits' like he was in a hurry to get somewhere. Drakken narrowed his eyes at the man as he jogged by.

"Well at least they're feedin' us well." Thorne commented. "I havenae 'ad grub like this since I was back hame in me parents' hoose." They felt the ship began to pick up speed.

"Hm. I hated fancy stuff when I was a kid, and I think I still do." Drakken returned. "What is it with rich people eating things other sentients use as fish bait anyway?" Freya giggled. They reached a turbolift and Drakken beckoned. "Come on. Let's head up to the bridge and see if everything's squared away." They stepped into the lift, and before the door shut, another man pressed the button, and hopped in. The newcomer was wearing the uniform of a first-class steward, and he was panting a little. Drakken noticed as the balding man stared at them with a little shock, that beads of sweat had formed on his forehead.

"Huh. You must be late for something important, guy." Tharcourt stated. The steward nodded.

"Late for my shift." He said in a flat voice. "Going up?"

"Yep." Drakken answered. The steward pressed the button for the bridge deck. The lift stopped on the next deck up however, and another steward stepped in. This one, a blonde woman with green eyes, froze upon seeing the two Imperial officers for a moment, then slowly walked into the lift. Tharcourt felt his hackles raising. He feigned a chuckle.

"Ever want to clear a room, just have a couple guys with rank plaques walk in, right lieutenant?" Freya met eyes with him, and Drakken raised his eyebrows for a brief moment. She got the hint that something was amiss.

"How long ye two been workin' on these big old ships?" She asked.

"Six months." The male steward said immediately.

"A year." The woman spoke at the same time. Drakken saw them give each other a strange look. Both stewards shifted around in the lift until they were slightly behind Tharcourt and Thorne. Drakken's lips turned up in a knowing smirk.

"I was just on my way up to see the second officer to complain about my room." Tharcourt said. "Yeah…what was his name? Hefford, I think? Yes…that was it. Second Officer Hefford, am I right?"

"Yeah." The female steward answered. Drakken looked back to see the man shake his head to the affirmative. Tharcourt reached down toward the seam of his tunic.

"I was supposed to get a room on C Deck, but these bloody nitwits gave me one on D. Can you believe that?" He said. His thumb went into the opening on the right front of his tunic, and his fingers rested on his gun belt. "You'll have to take it up with an Officer." He said in a whiny, mimicking tone. One of the stewards hit the stop button, halting the lift's motion. He pretended not to notice. "So I'm on my way up now. You can look if you want, I got the tickets right here." His hand went quickly to the SE-14r at his right side, and before the stewards knew what was happening, the blaster was out of its holster.

Drakken started to spin about, but the man caught his arm and attempted a kick to Drakken's leg. Tharcourt threw himself into the steward and used his momentum to slam the man against the back wall of the turbolift. The steward punched him in the gut, and Drakken countered with a headbutt to the man's nose. Meanwhile, the female steward had drawn a blaster, something Freya was counting on. The nimbler Breoh'an raised her right arm, stepped back, and clamped her arm over her attacker's, pinning the blaster in place pointing at the door. Thorne then rammed herself back, the steward's back impacting the wall hard. With her left hand, Freya delivered a palm strike to the side of the woman's blaster pistol, and the weapon was knocked to the floor.

Drakken was kneed in the hip then punched in the sternum by what had to be the most highly-trained waiter he had ever seen. Having enough of this, he brought up his right engineer boot, and kicked as hard as he could into the steward's chest, both winding his foe, and propelling himself backwards a meter. The steward quickly recovered and drew a blaster pistol from under his white coat. Before he could raise it to fire, Drakken had put two red bolts into his chest. As the steward slumped to the floor, Drakken watched Freya hip throw the woman to the ground. The blonde-haired assailant quickly flipped to her stomach, drew another blaster pistol, and leapt to her feet. No sooner had she regained her footing than Freya had somehow deployed her staff in the confines of the turbolift and the tip impacted the woman's throat so hard, she dropped her weapon, and was thrown into the door, choking and grasping at her throat.

"Ye best be still, or ye'll die in a couple a' minutes." Thorne said bitterly. "Ye best nae try anything. We'll get ye t' medical, and then we wanna have a few wee words with ye." The women fell to her knees, coughing, and looked up at the red-haired Imperial officer.

"With…or without…me." She rasped, reached back underneath her coat and pulled a vibroknife. With what little life she had left, the woman lunged at Freya. There were two quick flashes of red, and she fell dead at Thorne's feet, Freya holding her RK-3 blaster in her free hand. Drakken lowered his own pistol.

"Didn't know you had her." He said grimly. Thorne holstered her blaster and collapsed her staff in a flourish.

"Nor did I." She admitted. "Thanks." He nodded. "What do ye s'pose these two were up tae?"

"Probably not room service." Drakken said, turning the turbolift back on. "But I don't think they were alone." A couple seconds later, the door opened onto A Deck. Several waiting passengers gasped at the carnage in the lift. Drakken simply stepped out, Thorne right behind him.

"This ein's out of order." Freya announced. "Try the'in doon the hall." With that, they started walking quickly toward the corridor leading to the bridge. They had only made it fifteen meters when they both heard someone call out to them. Looking back, they spied the Master-at -Arms, followed by two of his deputies, coming up the hall toward them.

"You there!" The ship's security officer, a tall, broad man with a perpetual imposing glower shouted. He stomped up to them with an intense frown. "What is the meaning of this sir? Imperial or no, why did you two deem it necessary to blast those two stewards?"

"Your stewards have a habit of carrying hidden blasters and vibroknives?" Tharcourt shot back. "Or for attempting to assassinate military personnel in a lift?"

"No!" The man shouted.

"Then you have a serious problem on board this vessel." Drakken advised. "You need to get your entire team, and start looking for any suspicious persons, especially people that look like crew, but aren't where they should be."

"Wh…you think…sleeper cells, sir?" The Master-at-Arms asked. Drakken cocked his head. "Quad turret gunner, sir. Clone Wars. Corporal, Kuat Defense Force."

"Alright then…" Drakken said, relieved there was at least a war veteran on this ship who could be of some help. "Yes. I think they might be sleeper agents, Mister…"

"Kopish." The man said, and gave a semblance of a salute.

"Right. Kopish, get your men and try to ferret them out. They may be rebels, and they're likely after the cargo."

"On it, sir." Kopish barked, and jogged off, his security men behind him. Drakken pulled his commlink from his belt as he and Freya continued down the corridor.

"Daraay, Felian, we have rebel agents on board the ship, disguised as crew. Armed and hostile. Execute boarding protocols. I repeat…go time."

"Understood." Both NCOs spoke over the net at the same moment. Drakken reached the bridge, and opened the hatch. "Gentlemen, we don't want to alarm you, but there's going to be an attack on this ship." First Officer Hefford turned and his face seemed to blanch.

"An attack?!" He blurted out. "You're certain?!"

"Dead certain." Tharcourt stated.

"Aye. Dead as the terrorists layin in one a' yer lifts right now." Thorne added for effect.

"There is an unknown quantity of persons dressed like crew getting ready to do something big." Drakken explained briskly. "The two we spaced were on their way up here, I think. They're probably trying to hijack the ship to get to the cargo."

"Get the captain and all of the officers…on the bridge, now!" Hefford commanded. A young junior officer nodded fearfully, and used a terminal to ring the rest of the command crew.

"No alarms." Tharcourt stated. "A panic would only make it harder to do what we have to do in an attack." Hefford gave a quick nod. "They're after the cargo only. I want my people to spot them easily and be able to neutralize them."

"I understand." The first officer answered. "Shall I alert the security team?"

"Already done that." Drakken replied. "They're combing for the plants now. So are my team. Lieutenant Thorne and I will try to guard the bridge of the ship."

"Mutineers, Commander?" Captain Furmer asked, coming onto the bridge. Lights was close behind, followed by Third Officer Pittam.

"Not exactly. More like rebels dressed as crew. Looks like they're making a move."

"The void…" The elderly captain muttered. "Are the passengers in any danger?"

"I don't think so. I believe they're just after the cargo, captain. They'll probably be attacking this part of the ship soon, if my gut is right."

"I'll take stock in your gut then…" Furmer growled. "Second Officer Lights, the emergency arms!" Lights immediately went to an innocuous section of wall and dialed in a code on a small pad. A door in the wall opened, revealing a small rack of blaster pistols. Drakken felt Freya slap his shoulder and turned in time to see three crewmen in blue and white uniforms entering the bridge through a hatch on the far-right side of the space. He immediately spotted the blasters in their hands.

"Get down!" He barked, and shoved Captain Furmer to the deck as he drew one of his own blasters. The three fake crewmen opened fire, one of their bolts striking a quartermaster at the navigation terminal before he could fully stand, and sending the man to the floor. Drakken fired back, hitting one of the attackers just as Freya unleashed a volley, two of her rounds hitting the same gunman as he fell. Drakken downed the second with a hit to the abdomen and one to the chest. The third man was firing wild now, and dove behind a terminal.

Another rebel fighter pivoted into the doorway, holding a large blaster rifle. He cut loose with a burst from the weapon on full-auto, and a young female communications officer was hit, and fell to the deck, badly wounded. Bolts hit several computers, sending fountains of sparks into the air, adding to the chaos. Drakken took aim on the terminal the one gunman was hidden behind with both of his blasters, and as the rebel poked his head up, he was hit with four rounds in the forehead.

Freya fired at the man wielding the large blaster, and she dove to the deck as he turned his undivided attention towards her. Tharcourt dodged his rounds, and tried to get a clean shot. Just as he squeezed off a shot, ten red bolts flew toward the gunman, three of them hitting the rebel in the chest. Drakken looked to see Second Officer Lights standing behind a terminal, blaster pistol held out one-handed like a competition shooter. A cursory glance around yielded no more threats.

"Clear!" Drakken called.

"Clear!" Freya repeated.

"Someone check the wounded!" Drakken ordered. Lights and Pittam rushed to the wounded communications officer and knelt beside her. Pittam held the woman's head up in time for her to cough up a clot of blood. Freya looked back at the scene and winced.

"Should I call fer Dall, Drakken?" She asked. Tharcourt glanced at the woman as she gave a shudder and her head went limp. He frowned and shook his head. Freya gave a somber nod at the two officers. "Sorry about yer crewmate…" Captain Furmer put a hand on his second officer's shoulder.

"That the end of it, Commander?" Furmer asked tiredly.

"Not likely." Drakken growled. His commlink sputtered, and he pulled it from his belt. "Delta…"

"Contact!" Daraay's voice announced.

…...

"Stay frosty troopers…" Felian advised as he led Mets, Coleth and Gallen down the corridor. He spoke into his mic. "Delta-Seven-Two, we're approaching the forward cargo hold. What is your twenty, over?"

"Port side, making approach now." Daraay answered. She was now clad in her full Death Trooper armor and carrying her massive MWC-35c as she led Lago, Dall and Ekks down another hall, on their way to the hold. She turned a corner near the hatch leading to the cargo area, and immediately pivoted back out of the way as three green bolts flew past. "Contact!" She called, as much to Felian over the comms system as to her squad. Then Daraay ratcheted the underslung pump action on her blaster, swung out around the corner and sent the rebel fighter flying backwards with a burning crater in his chest.

"Daraay has contact!" Felian called, and gave a motion with his left hand to move quickly. They made it to a hatch leading to the cargo hold. "We'll link up with the platoon guarding the cargo and…" He opened the hatch and froze. Amid the stacks of containers in the room, there were four stormtroopers laying motionless on the deck. He immediately motioned for the rest of the squad to clear the area. They entered the hold, weapons shouldered, scanning every crevice for a sign of the enemy or surviving Imperial soldiers. They heard a thump, and pressed themselves against the stack of crates to their right. At a snail's pace, they crept forward. Reaching the end of the row, Felian used a small camera probe to look out into the open area beyond.

Six subjects in crew uniforms were knocking open the inspection ports on some of the crates and peering inside as three more stood guard with heavy blaster rifles. Sergeant Felian signaled the number of armed enemies with his fingers. He zoomed in with the camera and noticed that each of the containers the rebels were rifling through all bore the Imperial cog. Seeing enough to formulate a plan of action, the scout sergeant put the camera away.

"Mets…flashbanger." He called in a whisper. Mets moved up, a stun grenade in his gloved hand. Felian nodded, and Mets activated the grenade and tossed it in the direction of the enemy.

"Oh kriff me! Let's do it!" Someone yelled right before the stun grenade went off with a thunderous bang and a flash of light. The squad was instantly in the fight, moving toward the position of the hijackers, their blasters belting out a withering volley of fire. The terrorists were quickly mowed down, save for three who retreated further into the hold. The squad gave chase, but heard a torrent of fire, and halted for a moment. The hold was silent now.

"Friendlies!" Felian called.

"Friendlies." He heard Daraay reply. The Death Trooper stepped from behind a crate and walked around the front of a small private ship lashed to the deck. "Clear on my end, sergeant." He nodded.

"Any sign of the other troopers that were down here?"

"Four troopers and an officer were dead back there." Ekks motioned with a thumb. "Poor bastards got shot to pieces."

"I'll inform the Commander." Felian stated. He pulled his commlink. "Sir…sir can you read me?"

"Go Felian." Tharcourt's voice returned.

"We have multiple enemy KIA in the forward cargo hold. The soldiers guarding the cargo are KIA as well. We have no injuries. We're about to clear the entire area, commander."

"Understood." The commander said back. "Thorne and I got six trying to take the bridge. Looks like they had a real us-level plan here."

"Roger that, sir." Felian remarked. "Do you need reinforcements?" Up on the bridge, Tharcourt and Thorne watched as Master-at-Arms Kopish marched in with an energy-cuffed man in a maintenance worker's coveralls, the latter's face full of rage and fury. The mountainous ship's security chief had the writhing man hoisted off the ground with one arm. He deftly deposited the miscreant face-down on the deck at the toes of Tharcourt's boots.

"No, sarn't…" He answered. "We got everything wrapped up in a nice neat package on my end. Keep me informed."

"Will do, sir." Felian said. "Out."

….

Drakken watched as Kopish lifted his prisoner into a sitting position on the floor of the bridge, and he carefully scrutinized the man's appearance and demeanor. The man was in his mid-twenties, brown-haired, and had a scar on the left side of his forehead. The prisoner glowered up at Kopish with bloodshot eyes, the vein on his temple pulsing as he hissed his breaths through clenched teeth. He was obviously in the throes of a full-blown bout of pissed-off, Drakken thought, but there was definitely more to this man and the rest of his comrades than that. From the martial-arts-trained waiters in the turbolift to crewmen wielding fire-support weapons, this group was definitely more zealous than most he'd encountered. He decided to start out on the right foot with the bound terrorist, and paced up to him slowly, his arms behind his back.

"Well…well…well." Drakken said blandly, testing the man's self-control. The prisoner lashed out with a roar like some rabid lothwolf, whether to bite at Drakken's leg or to try something more worthwhile, he didn't know. Drakken pulled back his right foot and gave the rebel a swift kick to the side of his head that sent the man onto his side. "Try that again, I might have to shoot you."

"Do it." The prisoner growled, sitting back up defiantly. "Go ahead and shoot, Imp. Blast me and go kriff the Emperor." He then devolved into a half-unintelligible angry rant. "Dirty scugface bastards…go to the void you filth. You and the whore…damn Imps." Freya narrowed her eyes.

"Call me that again, and I'll feckin' slot ye meself." She threatened. Drakken put a hand on her shoulder to calm her. Kopish frowned and kneed the prisoner in the back hard enough to get his point across.

"You're awful damned testy for a man who just helped kill innocent civilians and tried to steal a cruise vessel." Drakken said. "All of your friends are dead, and your little plot's failed. Why don't you just calm the Hell down and answer my questions." The man chuckled.

"Innocent…there's no innocent beings." The man stated bitterly. "That's it. That's the whole thing. Soldiers…civilians…men, women…children. It doesn't kriffing matter. You either fight Imps or you help them. There's no room for…innocent." He looked up at the two officers before him. "If you help the Imps, you die with the Imps."

"You bastard." Thorne growled. "You rebels that far gone, are ye? Kill whoever ye please. Yer cause about killing kids now, is it?"

"Cause…cause…" The rebel repeated, as if tasting the word. "Our cause is burning the Empire to the ground!" He tried to leap to his feet, but Drakken seized him by the shoulders and slammed him down hard on his back, eliciting a yelp from their prisoner as his bound hands were sandwiched between the steel deck and his body. Tharcourt shook his head.

"And my cause is peace." He returned. "And if that means the Rebel Alliance has to burn, so be it."

"Who gives a gundark's last turd about the Alliance?!" The man shouted, throwing himself back up to sitting. "They can't win the war. We will win the war." He looked between Drakken and Freya. "We'll be the ones who slice your throats open, all bloody and red while you sleep." Freya's mouth twitched at the terrifyingly specific statement. Tharcourt seemed unfazed.

"You're…not with the Alliance…" He said in a confused tone.

"Heheheheh…no…no we are not." The man laughed. His face went dead serious. "Think it's all over, little puffer pigs?" He shook his head. "It has just started." Drakken saw him swishing something around in his mouth, and before he could stop the prisoner, the man bit down on something. A jolt of electrical current surrounded the terrorist's head for a moment, and he fell onto his side, dead. Drakken began to breathe harder as his mind raced.

"Turn this ship around!" He barked. "Captain, we need to get to a safe port ASAP!"

"I…I cannot…" Furmer muttered, staring aghast at the scene that had just unfolded on the bridge of his ship. "I have orders…from the Imperial military, Commander…" He had a look of near-panic painted on his face. "I have to get this ship to Eriadu. I cannot deviate course."

"Oh the void's kriffing sake!" Tharcourt cursed. "We don't know what we're flying into!"

"We…we stopped the rebels, right, sir?" Lights asked. Tharcourt pointed to the smoking corpse at his feet.

"That…that is not a rebel. No, that's something way worse. That, gentlemen…is a bona-fide karkin' superterrorist. Know what that means?!" Several of the crew and officers shook their heads. "It means they don't play by the rules. They want your cargo, and they're willing to kill everyone on this ship to get it. These guys were only the first part of the plan. They were gonna hijack this ship, kill all of you, and fly somewhere they could offload the cargo. Probably ransom the passengers, kill them, who knows." He pointed furiously out the viewport into the blackness ahead. "That means they have a damned ship out there somewhere, big enough to smoke a Gozanti, and I don't know how many of those fanatics on it. Oh, and the other Imperial team on this ship are dead as Tarkin!"

"C'mander darlin'…" Freya offered. Drakken huffed and panted for a few moments, and regained some of his composure.

"I knew this mission was gonna be a PITA." He sighed.

"Not…what I heard about…navy discipline…" Third Officer Pittam muttered. Drakken waggled a finger at him for a moment.

"Don't lecture me on Navy discipline." He said flatly. "It's all rum, sodomy and the lash." Kopish snorted, stifling a laugh.

"What do we do, Commander?" Captain Furmer asked. "What can we do?"

"Well…we're gonna get attacked. Probably boarded." Drakken said as if he were talking about the weather. "Once they figure out their whole onboard contingent is dead, this ship's gonna end up like that freighter we saw. You got gun turrets on this thing?"

"Only a dorsal double for fending off pirates." Lights answered.

"So no. You don't." Tharcourt sighed. "Out…standing." He pulled his commlink. "Any more trouble down there?"

"No sir." Daraay replied. "The hold and surrounding area are clear of any hostiles. We are preparing to have the ship's surgeon and some crew move all of the bodies into a freezer. Is that acceptable?"

"Yeah, go ahead." Drakken said. "And after you do, I want every one of you up on the bridge. We need to have a meeting."

Things aren't boding well for the team...or the ship. Rebels are one thing, but crazed terrorists are a Lesat of a different stripe. Such a cliffhanger to leave you on...I guess you'll just have to wait until I get back in 5 days to get a new chapter. Unless I can find time during the event to get on for a minute and post one. We'll just have to see. In the meantime, please leave me some love (or hate) in the reviews. You know I like hearing from my readers. Until next time my friends, Cheerio!