This one was a lot of fun to write, and I think the plot holds together reasonably well.  The same old faces are back again.  Kerrigan's cover identity was blown wide open in "A Conflict of Loyalties" so he's back in uniform under his real name - Carlist Reugen.  There are also one or two recurring minor characters who make a reappearance, notably my Chief of Staff - Colonel Cherenkov; and the formidable Chief Steward Winter.

I feel I owe an explanation to the people who've written in asking me to include their characters in my stories.   I'm afraid that I take great care in naming my characters, and not everyone's EH name really fits in.  Rear Admiral Flip-Flop, for example, just wouldn't look right.

Enjoy!

An Internal Affair.

By Fleet Admiral Kyle Kessler

    Dictatorships tended not to worry about details. Details were for committees and Imperial Star Destroyers weren't run by committee. When the Commodore mentioned, for example, that stocks of Torpedoes were running low in the middle of a patrol, the Logistics officer simply obtained new supplies by whatever means necessary, and sent the bill to Fleet Command later. If this meant stopping by a local allied world and requisitioning whatever supplies were available, no one argued. The Wing needed munitions, so munitions is what it received.
    Fleet Command was used to dealing with impossible budget demands imposed upon it by the vagaries of their wayward supply system. Or to be more accurate, Fleet Financial Directorate was used to it. Fleet Command couldn't care less, since they all descended from the very Commodores who caused the problems in the first place. It was a complex system, and keeping track of it all required consummate skill and patience; which is why Fleet Finance tended to produce forensic accountants who were extremely patient, never lost a budget trail, and were very, very persistent. So it was only a matter of time before the discrepancies in the accounts of the Starfighter Training Platform Daedalus were discovered. Once that happened, Internal Security got involved, and then it usually turned messy.

    Major Carlist Reugen smoothed his uniform tunic down and checked his boots for a shine before leaving the Lambda Class Shuttle and stepping onto the deck of the ISD Relentless. Intel people generally didn't care too much about smart military bearing. In their opinion it got in the way of getting the job done, but he knew that Fleet types liked to look smart, and creating a good first impression was useful. Fleet didn't have a very high opinion of Intel in the first place, and Internal Security was positively loathed, so anything that helped him get on Rear Admiral Maldon's good side was worth a shot.
    There was, of course, no one waiting to greet him. He sighed, realising that it was of course, being entirely too optimistic of him to expect any kind of official reception. A Captain standing waiting by a bank of fuel cells noticed his arrival, however, and threaded his way through the bustle of droids and crewmen to meet him at the boarding ramp. He snapped off a precise salute and extended a hand to Reugen politely. "Major Reugen, your code key please, sir."
    Reugen reached into his tunic breast and passed the code cylinder to the Captain, who inserted it into his datapad and checked for authentication, before smiling and handing it back. "Welcome aboard the ISD Relentless, sir. I'm Captain Warren; Intel Field Officer assigned to the Relentless. Is there anything you need?"
    "Thanks, Captain. I'll need an hour to talk to you about how we're going to handle the Daedalus situation first. Then you'd better fix me up for a chat with the Commodore sometime after that."
    Warren grinned apologetically. "Sorry, sir. The Commodore wanted to see you as soon as you arrived onboard. I'm to take you to his Stateroom immediately."
    Reugen began to see how this was going to work. "Giving me the run-around already? Some things never change do they?"

    Rear Admiral Jarak Maldon looked up from his desk as the two Intel Officers stepped into his stateroom and regarded them both with a baleful, cyclopean stare from his cyberoptic implant. He dropped the file he'd been studying into his in-tray and indicated that they should sit. "Major Reugen, I trust you can tell me a little more about what's going on with the Daedalus than the pitiful scraps of information contained in this summary?"
    Reugen cleared his throat. "Certainly sir." Opening his briefcase, he extracted a personnel dossier and handed it to the Rear Admiral. Maldon took it without comment and examined the photograph on the cover. It showed a handsome woman in her mid thirties, dressed in the uniform of a TIE Corps Vice Admiral.
    "Vice Admiral Akiko Kusanagi has been assigned as Director of Starfighter Training Operations on the Space Platform Daedalus for the last year," Reugen began. "Up until now, she's always run a tight ship, but a routine departmental audit turned up some irregularities in her budget and stock reports that Fleet Finance were unable to explain. The Fraud Squad ran an in-depth audit of her finances and discovered that for the last six months, she appears to have fleecing the Daedalus of valuable equipment and resources." He indicated the dossier Maldon was holding. "A full breakdown of embezzled goods and equipment is provided at Annex A."
    "What kind of goods and equipment?"
    Reugen was about to point out that Annex A of the Report covered those details, but wisely refrained. Trying to make Flag Officers look stupid was about as wise as standing on top of hilltops in copper armour during thunderstorms, shouting, "All Gods are assholes", and carried about the same life expectancy. Suppressing a sigh, he elaborated. "Flight Training Simulators, surplus TIE Training ships that were due to be returned to Fleet for disposal, substantial sums of cash. Basically anything that could be disposed of with the help of a little clever accounting."
    Maldon flicked through the Annex, noting exactly what Reugen had just told him. "Obviously not clever enough, however."
    "Not nearly. I'm to arrest her for questioning. She has no financial background, so at least one of her Finance Staff must be in on the deal. The Relentless is scheduled to make a routine stop in the Phare system the day after tomorrow to collect the latest class of recruits to graduate from Daedalus. Fleet don't want her alerted to the fact that Internal Affairs is on their way to pick her up, so I've been ordered to catch a ride with you. I'll need the use of a Squad of Stormtroopers to actually make the arrest, and one shuttle and Flight Crew to transport her to the Stiletto for questioning. Both the personnel and the shuttle will, of course, be returned to you on completion of the operation."
    Maldon nodded. "Very well, Major. Captain Warren can see that you get the resources you need. Just try to stay out of the way for the duration of the passage to the Phare system. Dismissed."
    Reugen stood and saluted then walked smartly out of the stateroom. Once outside, he exchanged a glance with Warren. "How do you stand it?"
    Warren chuckled. "It's not so bad when you're actually assigned to a TIE Corps Ship. Okay, no-one wants to go for long, cosy showers with me because I'm still Intel, but I'm here to assess data on enemy forces, I'm not Internal Affairs. I get along with people okay." He gave Reugen a wry look as they stepped into the waiting turbolift. "You on the other hand. I'd advise you to keep quiet about being IA if I thought it would make any difference, but news travels fast on a Star Destroyer, so it would be a waste of time. Just keep your head down and be thankful you're only onboard for a few days."
    "Gee, thanks."

    The modified Space Platform Daedalus hung suspended in the void, navigation lights winking on and off as the Imperial II Class Star Destroyer Relentless approached. Once the headquarters of the Strike Fleet, the Daedalus was now home to the Starfighter Flight Training Division of the Imperial Weapons and Tactics School.
    On the bridge of the Relentless, Major Reugen was trying hard to shake off a sense of foreboding that something was wrong. He glanced over at Rear Admiral Maldon, who appeared to be lost in thought as the Officer of the Watch guided the ship into a parking orbit. Maldon glanced over to Reugen, expression unreadable, then raised a finger, beckoning Reugen over to join him.
    "Something's wrong, Major."
    Relieved that he wasn't being paranoid, Reugen nodded. "Yes sir, I get that feeling too, but I can't say what it is."
    Maldon indicated the viewscreen. "There should be a small flotilla of training ships stationed here. Cruisers, dreadnoughts, corvettes, as well as scores of TIE Trainers. Apart from the perimeter patrols, this place is deserted." He flicked a switch on the armrest of his command chair and a fresh data readout appeared. "According to reports from the Flight Office, no major training exercises are scheduled. Wherever they've gone, they didn't go with permission from Fleet Admiral Kessler."
Reugen absorbed the data carefully. Maldon was right, it was far too quiet. There should have been classes of Cadets flying combat training exercises almost constantly, and the absence of the Daedalus' fleet of support ships was worrying. "Perhaps the Training Office could shed some light on the situation?"
    Maldon shook his head. "Unlikely. The Training Office and Fleet work a lot more closely together under the new administration. High Admiral Astatine and Fleet Admiral Kessler don't do anything like this without telling each other. It's possible of course, but by the time we get an answer from the Training Office we’ll have men onboard and we'll know for sure anyway." He frowned. "I'll get the Yeoman to check with the Training Office anyway, but I don't think we're going to hear anything surprising. No, someone tipped off your friend the Vice Admiral and she's long gone."
    "Not that long gone. I only received the arrest warrant two days ago."
    "Then it's possible we may be able to track her. I'll start Captain Warren analysing likely escape routes, but any information you have on her will help him greatly in assessing her likely avenues of escape. First of all, however, you get yourself onboard the Daedalus and make sure she's gone. We need to know when, where, and with what. I'm sure you know your job, Major. Dismissed."
    Reugen saluted and headed for the turbolift. He supposed he'd underestimated Maldon, he didn't miss much, that was certain, and he knew enough about the gravity of the situation to not allow traditional Fleet prejudices towards Intel to cloud his judgement. All the same, heads were likely to roll for this, the Ubiqtorate were going to be furious. Another thought struck him; Fleet Admiral Kessler wasn't likely to be too pleased either. He wondered if the Admiral knew just exactly which Intel officer had been assigned to handle the arrest? He didn't think Kessler still bore him any grudges over the Argimiliar incident, but if he did, this was exactly the kind of situation that could be used to get Reugen into deep trouble.
    Time to keep a low profile over this one, he decided.

    The Transport pilot turned in his seat and gave Reugen a thumbs up. Reugen acknowledged the signal with a nod, then turned in his seat to address Sergeant Perrell. "I want you to treat this like a hostile boarding operation, Sergeant. Leave them in no doubt that we mean business, and make certain your men are careful. If you have to shoot anyone, so be it, but I'd rather leave here with the same number of troopers that I arrived with."
    Perrell nodded and without another word, the eight troopers all adjusted weapons settings. Reugen didn't need to ask if that meant weapons were no longer set on "stun".
    The rear ramp on the Assault Transport hissed open and several white-armoured Stormtroopers jumped clear, rifles at the ready. This didn't do anything to reassure Commander Weiss's already panicky frame of mind. Standing alone in the deserted Number Three Landing Bay, he made sure his hands were in full view at all times, and forced himself not to make any quick movements.
    A Stormtrooper sergeant appeared to mutter something into his helmet transponder, and after a second an Intel Major stepped down the Transport's boarding ramp and made a signal to the sergeant. Without a word, the Stormtroopers spread out to cover the exits from the Landing Bay. Weiss realised things were worse than he'd feared.
    The Intel Major stopped a few paces short of the nervous Commander and stared at him for a second. "Take us to Ops, Commander. Now, please."
    Weiss's mouth opened and closed a few times before he found his voice. "I.. Ahh… What's going on, sir? We weren't expecting the Relentless for another week…"
    "I gave you an order, Commander. Don't add disobedience to your list of crimes. Operations Room. Now."
    Weiss gulped once, read the promise of execution in the Major's cold, blue eyes and didn't argue.

     The doors to the Ops Room burst open and Stormtroopers flooded in, overpowering and disarming the two Navy troopers guarding the door. Techs jumped from their seats in alarm, but soon went quiet as they watched the unwavering muzzles of the readied blaster rifles.
    Commander Weiss stepped inside, followed by Reugen. He nervously pointed to the duty Controller's station. Reugen nodded once to Sergeant Perrell and without another word, a Trooper stepped up to Reugen's side and was passed a small silver code cylinder. The Trooper quickly went to work on the station computer as Reugen cast his eye about the silent room. Keep them confused, keep them occupied and above all, keep them scared. He let them all stew for a minute longer while the Trooper completed the data dump. After a minute, the Trooper turned and looked at Reugen, waiting. He nodded once and stepped over to the Communications Station, glared at the Comm Tech who nervously got out of the way and opened a channel to the ISD Relentless.
    Rear Admiral Maldon's figure flickered into view, seated in his command chair on the bridge of the Destroyer as the holocomm warmed up. He looked up, waiting.
    Reugen cleared his throat. "Stand by for data transfer, sir."
    Maldon's image nodded, then flickered out of existence. The Trooper at the Controller's station pressed a final switch then unslung his rifle and resumed his sentry post.
    Reugen decided it was time to start applying a little controlled pressure. He turned to Commander Weiss. "Who's the Officer in Charge here?"
    Weiss raised his hand. "Captain Eisen put me in command until completion of the training Exercise, sir."
    Reugen arched one eyebrow. "Training Exercise? So that's what they're calling it these days, is it?"
    Weiss looked confused. "Calling what, sir?"
    "There are any number of names for it, Commander. Mutiny, desertion, take your pick. But they're all punishable by death. The question is - just how deeply are you implicated?"
    Weiss looked thoroughly scared now. Reugen allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction; Weiss was ready to spill his guts of everything he knew. Time to turn the screw a little tighter. "Sergeant, clear the room of all station personnel apart from Commander Weiss and place them under guard in the corridor. Leave yourself and two Troopers in here with us." Perrell's troops swiftly moved to carry out the order.
    Reugen's eyes drilled mercilessly into Weiss's terrified countenance. "Anytime you're ready, Commander, start talking." 

    "So she took off with the entire Training Flotilla? And the complete three senior classes of every Training Company?" Maldon shook his head in disbelief as he stared at the logs on his desk. "Fleet Admiral Kessler's going to go crazy… absolutely crazy…"
    Reugen cleared his throat. "We just missed her, she left less than three hours ago. Station logs show that she announced a surprise Training Exercise four hours before that. It took them that long to fuel and prep their ships, and then they headed out. That would correspond more or less with the time that the Relentless left Aurora. Logs show that the exercise is scheduled to take place in the Lyarna System."
    "I'm willing to bet that the Governor isn't aware of any such exercise" Maldon snorted. "Given a three hour head start, they couldn't be that far away." He drummed his fingers on his desktop for a second or two, deep in thought, then turned to the Flight Ops station. "Major - start prepping the squadrons immediately. I want everyone on full battle alert. Strip the Daedalus of every able-bodied Cadet that's left behind too. Use them to reinforce our Wing, and get them putting in simulator hours the second they get onboard."
    The puzzled Flight Controller's face creased into a frown. "Cadets, sir? You're sure that's wise? I think Wing IX can handle Kusanagi's task force even if we are understrength."
    "It's not Kusanagi's task force I'm concerned about, Major. She's not just running aimlessly. This kind of treachery takes meticulous planning, she'll have somewhere safe to run to, and I expect wherever that is will probably put us in harm's way. See to it."
    "Aye, sir."
    "Captain Warren - your report?"
    The Relentless's Field Intel Officer nodded. "Yes sir. Kusanagi's ships are all second rate models, that's why they're used for training, and not frontline duty. She's got one Dreadnought, one Escort Carrier, a Strike Cruiser and two Frigates at her disposal, all of which are well past their sell-by date. She also has the use of two Corvettes, which are in much better shape, but they are after all, just Corvettes, so no real threat there. The two Corvettes are her fastest ships, but she'll be restricted to moving at the speed of her slowest ship, which will be the Dreadnought Nagisa."
    "Not unless she's smart and she uses the Corvettes as scouts, Captain" Maldon intervened. "Which is what I'd do if I were in her shoes."
    Warren blushed. "I'll take that into account sir." He picked up a stylus and pressed a stud, causing a holographic map of the Outer Rim to appear. Emperor's Hammer Territories were highlighted in red. New Republic space in green, neutral territory in blue.
    "As you know, our border with the New Republic is guarded on the left flank by our allies, the Imperial Orthodoxy." A sector pulsed white on the map to indicate that area. "They tend to get nervous when uninvited guests appear in their space, and just about the only courtesy they'd extend to Kusanagi would be that they'd arrest her rather than blow her out existence due to the fact that she's an Imp instead of a Reb. Sooner or later they'd hand her back to us, so Orthodoxy space is out of the question.
    "Our border with the New Republic along the Minos Cluster is heavily defended by the Aggressor Strike Force. Apart from that, we have Interdictor Cruisers and Frigate squadrons permanently stationed here, here, here and here…" white flashes appeared on the display up and down the line where red met green "…to control merchant traffic and provide early warning and interception on any New Republic attack. So she can't run directly for Rebel space, because our Interdictors and Frigate Escorts would get her.
    "That leaves two possibilities. They can head up over the plane of the ecliptic and attempt to transit through intergalactic deep space. The problem with that is that none of her ships have the necessary high resolution nav sensors to be able to get an accurate position fix when you're that far away from any local stellar bodies. She could make it out there, but getting a good enough navigation plot to get back would be almost impossible.
    "The other alternative, is for her to attempt to transit through Independent Space. We have Interdictors stationed along the major trade routes over that border, but the Fleet's too widely spread to allow us to deploy much of a force there. Our best defence along that axis is that the Independents would attack any Rebel force that tried to pass through enroute to us, as they would attack any of our forces that tried to reciprocate. It's always possible that a small force could sneak through undetected, but not in enough strength to pose any danger. Kusanagi might be able to get her ships through without being detected. That's the bad news. The fact that she's escaping with ships the size of Dreadnoughts and Escort Carriers works to our advantage, however. Much of that border is covered by asteroid fields, black holes, pulsars and other navigational anomalies. There is only one spot where she could conceivably sneak those ships through the line, and that's here…" a spot on screen zoomed in to show an asteroid field "… in the Dendrite Drift. Technically, it's an asteroid field, but the rocks are so sparse that it's reasonably safe to travel through it at sublight speeds. That means she'd have to drop out of hyperspace to cross the drift, and she'd be vulnerable to attack while she did so."
    Maldon's eyes lit up. "At her best speed, when could she get there?"
    "Her Corvettes could be there now, but the Dreadnought couldn't make it for at least another two hours."
    "Do we have anything nearby?"
    "Yes, sir. One Interdictor and two Frigates patrol that area constantly. There's a nearby customs station that can have a Squadron of Gunboats scrambled and in place to intercept half an hour from now."
    "Excellent work, Captain. I'll signal Vice Admiral Ricaud to ask Fleet for permission to divert the ships."
    Reugen cleared his throat. "There is another thing, sir."
    Maldon glared at him. "More bad news?"
    "Going over the station's communications logs, I spotted a discrepancy in the timings of some of the signals that had been sent and received."
    "Is this going to be useful to us?"
    "It might explain one or two things, and it gives us a slightly more hopeful picture of how many active traitors Kusanagi has with her."
    Maldon nodded. "Okay, go on."
    "I checked the signal logs as a matter of routine for any transmissions that Kusanagi may have sent once she realised we were onto her. Naturally, I found nothing, but then something occurred to me. Commander Weiss remarked when we arrived that they hadn't been expecting us for another week, yet we clearly signalled Daedalus yesterday to expect our arrival. I checked the logs, and sure enough, there was our signal, but it did say were going to arrive in a week's time."
    Maldon shrugged. "So they edited the logs, so what?"
    Ruegen shook his head. "No, sir. That's the natural assumption to make, but it's not just a simple matter of editing a log. There'd still be the matter of dealing with whichever Comms Operator was on watch when the signal arrived. In order for them to do that, they'd have to have the entire communications staff on their side. There's simply no way they could know which Comms Operator was going to be on watch when that kind of signal came in. Have you ever heard of the acronym "KISS"?"
    Maldon nodded. "Keep It Simple, Stupid. Yeah, I'm familiar with the term. I wish more people were."   
    "Well the more people who are part of the subterfuge, the easier it is for something to go wrong, so I didn't believe that the entire Comms Staff had been suborned. Then I noticed other discrepancies. Not only had the signals' text been edited, but its datestamp had been tampered with too. I checked our logs; we transmitted that signal with a datestamp of 1721110100. The signal that the Daedalus received had a stamp dated thirty minutes later. That data is hardcoded into the message, it's inserted into the code by the transmitting station and can't be changed without hacking in from the terminal that sent it. It's next to impossible to hack into it from anywhere but the originating communications terminal."
    Maldon's eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you saying we have a traitor on the Relentless?"
    "No, sir. Keep it simple, remember? That would be too difficult to orchestrate, and besides, I said I checked our logs. Our datestamp differs from the one that Daedalus received, ours is legitimate."
    "But you said it was nearly impossible for anyone to…" Maldon growled. "Get the hell on with it, Major. I've got better things to do than listen to you talk about how clever you are."
    "I found a communications shunt installed on the Daedalus' communications array."
    "Major Ruegen, I'm a pilot, not a commtech. What are you talking about?"
    Ruegen smiled. "It's a piece of equipment that intercepts signal traffic. If you know the correct codes, you can install it into someone's communications transponder and basically filter their mail. You can divert, delay, delete, rewrite, whatever you want. The signal from us was diverted to the station Executive Officer's cabin, where half an hour later, a duplicate signal was uploaded to the communications shunt, then accepted as new incoming traffic by the station transponder. That's the signal that's on the station log, and that's why it was datestamped half an hour later. Incidentally, amongst their other duties, Executive Officers are usually Unit Crypto Officers too, responsible for the safe storage of all communications codes."
    Maldon whistled softly. "Clever bastard."
    "Not clever enough." Reugen tossed a buff folder onto Maldon's desk. "Captain Josef Eisen's his name. His file's pretty unremarkable. Although one thing is interesting, given that it was an account discrepancy that alerted us to this whole mess in the first place. Eisen was Logistics Officer on the VSD Crusader two years ago. He received a lot of praise in his annual report for the quality of his accounting, apparently." Reugen rose from his seat, snapping his briefcase shut. "Just something for you to chew over before you make your report to Vice Admiral Ricaud." 

    The activity in the TIE Corps Commander's Outer Office barely paused as Vice Admiral Val Ricaud entered. At the desk next to the door to the Inner Office, Fleet Admiral Kessler's Secretary, Colonel Cherenkov, stood and greeted him warmly.
    "Good morning, sir. Admiral Kessler's expecting you, go straight in."
    Ricaud nodded and stepped around a Petty Officer who was engrossed in sorting files, knocked once and opened the door.
    Fleet Admiral Kyle Kessler looked up from a report as the door to his office opened and Ricaud stepped inside. The office was sparsely decorated. Kessler had cleared out the accoutrements of his predecessor and refurbished it with standard Fleet issue office furniture. There were one or two personal touches which contrasted starkly with the overall décor. Along the wall were pictures of a graduating class of cadets from Coruscant's old Imperial Naval Academy, yellowing with age. Opposite the desk was a display case containing a scale model of an Imperial Class Star Destroyer. The plaque on the rim of the case proclaimed it to be the ISD Devastator, and listed her extensive Battle Honours, before informing all who were interested that she'd been lost in action at the Battle of Endor. Behind Kessler's desk, the old banner and seal of the TIE Corps had been replaced with a life-sized oil painting of an impossibly young Academy Cadet and striking young woman with brilliant green eyes and rich, red hair. To one side of the painting was a picture of a stern Stormtrooper Lieutenant Colonel and his smiling middle-aged wife, to the other was a picture of the same woman with three young boys. Looking at Kessler, the family resemblance was unmistakable, even down to the streaks of iron grey in the hair.
    Kessler nodded in the direction of one of the seats opposite the desk and Ricaud seated himself.
    "Morning, Kess. You get Maldon's report?"
    "Yes. And an earful from the Training Office too," he added sourly. "Fleet Admiral Astatine's not the most friendly person at the best of times, but now he's accusing me of losing his precious trainees. His trainees?"
    Ricaud smiled. The issue of who retained functional control over the PLT Daedalus was one that had traditionally caused a lot of friction between Fleet and the Training Office. Since taking over the administration, Kessler and Astatine had forged a pretty stable working relationship, but both men tended to revert to type when the shit hit the fan
    Kessler sighed wryly. "Astatine's a good man and probably the best Training Officer this Fleet's ever seen, but sometimes his mouth hits the gallop before his brain's fully in the saddle."
    Ricaud resisted the sudden urge to chuckle.
    "Anyway," Kessler growled. "Somebody managed lose a training Flotilla and twelve Classes of senior cadets. Your people were the first on the spot, what measures do you propose we implement?"
    Ricaud leaned back, thinking carefully. "That Interdictor and its escorts in the Dendrite Drift need to be moved to intercept, and the Gunboat Squadron from Station DS-3 should be sent in. They'd better go in loaded for Rancor too. Dreadnoughts are heavily armoured."
    "Maldon wants to go chasing after them with Relentless as well. Personally I'm not convinced." Kessler looked extremely dubious. "I've been through that sector of space before. The Dendrite Drift is certainly navigable, but taking a ship as bulky and unmanoeuvrable as a Dreadnought through there is about as sensible as trimming your toenails with a lightsabre. You need to be either small and fast, or have something with enough firepower to vapourise anything you can't get out of the way of. I'd consider taking that route in a YT-1300 or an ISD, but a Dreadnought, or an Escort Carrier? The Frigates might be able to manage it, but the Dreadnought and Escort Carrier will get hammered." He shook his head.
    "No, I'm not convinced about this. We haven't had time to properly consider exactly what she hopes to achieve. Why did she take the cadets with her? Why not just jump into a shuttle and get out? She could have been long gone by now, but she chose to take the cadets, therefore they're important to her for some reason."
    He shook his head ruefully. "She won't risk losing that Escort Carrier in the Dendrite Drift, not if those cadets are so important." He grimaced. "The question is, why?"
    Ricaud cleared his throat. "Actually, I've been thinking about that, but it seemed like a long shot at the time so I kept quiet."
    Kessler gave him a sharp look. "Spill it, Val. Time is short, I need to know what you think."
    "Well," Ricaud flexed his fingers. "Here's the thing. Heading straight for Rebel space is out of the question, the ASF would pick her up instantly. Going out through the Dendrite Drift is, as you point out, apparently contrary to her intentions. But if we accept that it's the Cadets that are driving her ambitions, and it certainly appears so, surely we have to ask who would benefit from having an Escort Carrier full of Imperial starfighter Cadets delivered to their doorstep?"
    Kessler shrugged. "My point exactly, it doesn't make any sense."
    Ricaud raised a finger. "But it does make sense."
    Kessler began to get that twitch in his cheek that usually meant he was losing patience.
    Ricaud leaned over the desk. "The point is, we're all perfectly aware that the Orthodoxy has a warfleet that's at least three times the size of ours. Their huge shipbuilding programme has been a source of concern to us for some time, but we could at least take comfort in the fact that their manpower problems were therefore exponentially worse than ours. But that information is at least a year old now. You and I both know that they've completed their capital ship construction programme. Now is it totally out of the question to imagine that they've since begun to increase starfighter production in order to equip those starships, and in doing so, are finding themselves drastically short of loyal, trained, Imperial pilots?"
    Kessler sucked in his breath in a low whistle. "Shit."
    Ricaud nodded. "Indeed."
    "You'd have thought Intel might have warned us about this! We've got jack shit along that border. A couple of scout craft on irregular patrols, one or two listening stations, but nothing you couldn't drive a Death Star through without anybody noticing."
    "So what are our options?"
    Kessler rubbed the tips of his fingers against his temples, thinking furiously. "Okay, Kusanagi's ships couldn't have made it to the border yet. I figure we've got another twelve hours before she can get that far. We've got a Frigate or two we could divert to get to the area, and the Relentless might just be able to able to beat her to it, but her engines are going to suffer. The only problem once she gets there, is that it's an awfully long stretch of space to cover, and we can't mobilise your entire Battlegroup to patrol the border in case we're wrong. The last thing we want is for Supreme Moff Babune to interpret it as a pre-emptive attack."
    "I can get Gunboat and Defender patrols mobilised almost instantly." Ricaud offered.
    "I know, but chasing Kusanagi's little mutiny isn't the only thing Fleet has to deal with right now. I will not strip the Core Colonies of starfighter defences to go chasing after this bitch. You can take no more than one Squadron from each other ship in the Battlegroups and I'll send the Interdictor Harpax II to rendezvous with the Relentless. It'll be a tight squeeze onboard, but I'm sure Maldon will find space for his new pilots."
    Ricaud stood and saluted. "Okay, sir. I'll get onto it right away."
    Kessler raised a finger in warning. "Just remember, Val. There's no proof that Supreme Moff Babune is behind this yet, and officially, he happens to be our strongest ally. Start a war with the Imperial Orthodoxy over this and we'll both be put up against the nearest wall and shot. But at the same time, we're not going to take this sitting down. If you can't rescue those Cadets alive, then you kill them, you wipe out Kusanagi's whole flotilla. Whoever's behind this is not going to be allowed to get away with it." His gaze slipped the model of the Devastator against the far wall, his expression softening. "Of course, I'd prefer it we could all come out of this heroes and get them back alive."
    Ricaud smiled. "Understood, I'll see what we can do." Leaving, he paused at the door. "By the way, Kess… why don't you let Chief Steward Winter redecorate this place for you? You practically live in this office anyway, you may as well make the place comfortable."
    "And where would I work while he was tarting this place up?"
    Ricaud shook his head in exasperation and left.
    Kessler took a cigar from his desk humidor and jammed it between his teeth, muttering curses under his breath. Pressing a key on his console, he asked his Flag Lieutenant to connect him to Intel Headquarters on the PLT Stiletto, then patted down his pockets for his battered old steel lighter as he waited for the call to go through.
   "You're connected sir."
   "Thanks, Lieutenant."
    "Ubiqtorate, state your name and business."
   Kessler spat out his cigar and roared into the communicator. "Don't jerk me around with your power games you jumped-up, lowlife son of a bitch! Get that shit-for-brains Langer on the line and tell him that Fleet Admiral Kessler is going to gouge out his eyes and piss in the sockets if he doesn't come up with a bloody good explanation as to why we weren't informed about the Imperial Orthodoxy's critical pilot shortage!"
    If you couldn't throw your weight around when you were fourth in command of the Emperor's Hammer, there wasn't much point in wearing the uniform.

    Rear Admiral Maldon shook his head in disbelief as Vice Admiral Ricaud's image disappeared from the holo. "Those double-crossing sons of bitches.." he muttered under his breath.
    Major Reugen coughed politely. "There's zero proof so far that the Imperial Orthodoxy is actually behind this, sir."
    Maldon snorted derisively. "Bullshit. This smells right. She's run for the IO, you're just embarrassed that Intel didn't see it coming earlier."
    Reugen at least had the good grace to look embarrassed. "I'm not at liberty to comment on that allegation, sir. My department is Internal Affairs."
    "Yeah, whatever." He turned to Captain Warren. "Captain, I want the Navigator to get me a chart of routes that are furthest from known friendly patrols and listening stations, then I want a chart of the locations of the nearest Imperial Orthodoxy stations that are capable of hiding a flotilla the size of the one we're looking for. Match up those two charts and then I want Spear, Dagger and Sword Squadrons patrolling those routes."
    "Yes, sir!"
    "Soon as you've done that, take the location of our rendezvous with the Harpax II and get me the fastest route possible to that location. I want us out of here in half an hour, and I don't much care if we tear our engines to shreds getting there. Go to it."
    Finally, Maldon turned to Reugen. "And as for you, Major; Fleet Admiral Kessler asked me to send you his regards. He also says that Supreme Director Langer of the Ubiqtorate is sending an Intel Strike Team to be placed under your command once they arrive. We'll rendezvous with them when we meet the Harpax II."
    Reugen raised an eyebrow, but refrained from comment as Rear Admiral Maldon left the briefing room. Kessler knows I'm here and he didn't send a hit squad? Things are looking up.

    Captain Vigsted was woken from his sleep by the sound of the bridge alarm reverberating throughout his quarters. He groaned, bubbles escaping from his mouth, broke the surface of his sleeping tank, ordered the computer to activate the lights and responded to the call from the bridge.
    "Captain speaking" he croaked. "What news?"
    A flickering green holo of the Officer of the Watch hovered in mid-air before his face, the anxious officer's limpid blue eyes blinking excitedly. "Sensors have picked up the Y-Wing Longprobes, sir. You asked me to wake you when the news was confirmed."
    Vigsted sighed. "How long has it been?"
    "Two hours sir."
   Only two hours? Oh well, better make the most of it, it could be a while before I see the inside of my tank again.
   "Very good, Lieutenant. Prepare the ship to move, but don't do anything until the pilots have reported in person. I'll meet them on the bridge, and above all - maintain radio silence."
    "Aye, Captain."
    Vigsted clambered clear of his sleeping tank and groped around for his uniform, already the air was drying his skin out. He sometimes envied his primitive ancestors, swimming free in the seas of Mon Calamar. But only sometimes. He'd have to speak to the Chief Engineer about the humidity control in his quarters again.
    Arriving on the bridge of the CRS Insurgence, he was saluted by two human pilots in bright orange flightsuits. Like most Calamari, Vigsted was colour-blind. Eyesight that evolved under the stormy oceans of the Mon Calamari homeworld didn't have much use for any colours other than various shades of blue, but he knew enough of the varIous shades that were available to him to know that this was what humans referred to as "orange". He didn't much care for the colour.
    Sitting himself in the command chair, he acknowledged the salutes. "Your report, gentlemen?"
    "Sir, the Imperial Interdictor and both Frigates have pulled clear of the area and entered hyperspace as expected. There is currently no commercial traffic on the route, sir. The way appears to be clear."
    "Excellent work, Commander. You had no problems transiting the Independent Territories?"
    "None sir. Y-Wings are common craft around here, no-one gave us a second glance."
    "Good. Go get some rest, you'll be needed again later."
    The two pilots both saluted and left the bridge. The Executive Officer blinked twice, the traditional Calamari expression of polite expectation. Vigsted stared out of the viewscreen into the panoramic vista of the Dendrite Drift, carbonaceous and nickel-iron asteroids swirled gently past in the distance. This is it. Eisen had better be worth it.
    He cleared his throat. "Take us in, Commander , slow and easy. Shields up and gunners alert. Let's do it."

    Captain Warren knocked on the door of Reugen's cabin and stepped inside, a pensive expression on his face. Reugen's desk was buried under masses of reports and statistics, he looked grateful for the interruption.
    Warren cleared his throat. "You got a minute?"
    Reugen yawned and indicated the edge of the bunk. "Be my guest, make yourself comfortable. What's up?"
    Warren sat down on the edge of the bed and laid a red file cover on Reugen's desk. Reugen raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"
    Warren sighed. "Bad news. Possibly. Or possibly something that we can turn to our advantage."
    "How do you mean?"
    "This is this week's Intelligence Summary, direct from the Ubiqtorate. Amongst the usual reports, is one thing that suddenly started to bother me a lot in the light of what's been happening recently. There's a sketchy report here from an agent in the Independent Territories alerting us that a Rebel Cruiser had gone missing while on a diplomatic mission."
    Reugen's blank expression indicated that Warren needed to explain further.
    "The CRS Insurgence was enroute to an Independence Day celebration in the Kozar System. Nothing unusual about that, the Rebs are always trying to ingratiate themselves with the Indies. As is standard, the ship had been demilitarised before it was granted clearance to pass into Indie space, so basically, her fighter squadrons were disembarked at the nearest Rebel station to the border before she crossed the line. We know this happened, because we have an agent on the station that inspected the ship before it was allowed to proceed further into Indie space."
    "Okay…"
    "But the thing is, the Kozari claim that the Insurgence never showed up. She's overdue at the celebrations by twelve hours."
    Reugen shrugged. "Could be any reason for that, a CRS without fighter escort might make a juicy target for a well organised gang of pirates, or she could have a problem with her drive systems."
    "Yeah, but we tend to get nervous about Reb capships going missing so close to our borders, and the suspicious thing is, the Kozar System borders the Dendrite Drift. Now I ask you, is that a co-incidence?"
    Reugen was suddenly very interested. "And at just about the same time as our pickets along the Dendrite Drift were called away, too. How incredibly convenient."
    Warren sighed. "Working in Intel has taught me that there's absolutely no such thing as a co-incidence."
    "A philosophy I happen to agree with whole-heartedly, but think about this for a second. What use is a Calamari Cruiser without it's fighter squadrons? Without starfighter cover it's basically just a reasonably well-armed target."
    "That's where I was hoping you could help. I think this information's relevant but I'm out of ideas. I thought perhaps they were planning to transfer the training ships to the Cruiser's empty hangar bays, but rejected that idea almost immediately. I mean, they're only obsolete TIEs, of no possible use to the Rebels, and definitely not something you'd contemplate losing an MC-80 over."
    Reugen frowned in concentration, deep in thought. After a while, he sighed. "Warren, I don't know about you, but I always think better with a drink inside me. How about it?"


    Kessler was getting a headache. He was a practical man, not a diplomat. Definitely not a diplomat. In fact, it would probably be safe to say that he didn't know anyone who hated him enough to ever accuse him of being a diplomat. He'd never come across a problem that couldn't be solved by a Star Destroyer, a Wing of starfighters and crippling turbolaser support fire. People accused him of lacking imagination, this wasn't true. He had plenty of imagination. He had enough imagination to get headaches thinking about the kind of problems that resulted from not taking direct, decisive action in a military situation. What he lacked was patience. As far as he was concerned, he wasn't paid to be diplomatic, he was paid to crush the enemies of the Empire quickly, mercilessly and with as few friendly losses as possible. Diplomacy was for diplomats.
    The litany of complaints that were being delivered to him by the diplomat currently seated across his desk were not doing anything to improve his temper. As has already been mentioned, Fleet Admiral Kessler was not famous for his patient nature.
    His Excellency Pavresh Rampala, Ambassador of the Exalted Imperial Orthodoxy, was finally winding down his speech, much of which concentrated on the gross violations of the border treaty signed only three years ago by Grand Admiral Stephan Ronin and his Most Exalted Majesty, Supreme Moff Lardo Babune. The speech paid careful attention to the unacceptable build-up of military forces along the joint border between Imperial Orthodoxy and Emperor's Hammer space, and warned of the grave dangers implicit in such an aggressive and foolhardy venture; before concluding with the warning that the brave and valiant forces of the Orthodoxy Starfleet would not allow such a threat to the safety and security of their borders to go unchallenged.
    This was entirely the wrong sort of language to use under the current circumstances. Kyle Kessler may very well have been a Fleet Admiral in the service of the Emperor's Hammer Strike Fleet. It was true that he was a Knight Commander in the fraternal society of the Grand Order of the Emperor. It was even rumoured that as well as being an Officer, he was also a Gentleman; but the thing that most people forgot about Fleet Admiral Kessler (at least until it was too late) was that when you stripped away all the ranks and titles, all that remained was the second son of a Stormtrooper who'd grown up in one military base on Coruscant after another. Which basically meant that when you started using words like "unacceptable", "gross", "foolhardy" and especially "aggressive"; all that he heard was that you were looking for a good smack in the teeth.
    Lord Ambassador Manesh sat quietly by Rampala's side, waiting for Kessler's response to the Orthodoxy Ambassador's demand to know what he, the TIE Corps Commander and the man directly responsible for this outrage, intended to do about it.
    Kessler removed his cigar from his mouth and inspected the softly glowing tip for a second. Then he pressed a button on his desk and cleared his throat as two armed Navy Troopers entered the office.
    "Your Excellency, I've given careful consideration to your complaints and have reached the following conclusion: Arseholes to the lot of you."
    He clicked his fingers and the two Troopers grabbed an arm each and escorted Rampala from the room. Manesh sighed.
    "Don't look at me like that, Manesh!" Kessler snapped. "It's his own fault for confusing me with someone who gives a shit."
    "The Grand Admiral is going to be upset, Kessler."
    "Arseholes to him too. I'm not paid to be nice, I'm paid to hurt people. If he wanted nice he should have put you in charge of the Fleet."
    Manesh stood, brushing down his cloak. "Yes, well I suppose one should really have seen this coming. I'd best go and attend to His Excellency and soothe his temper before he finds a gun."
    "For his sake I hope you do."
    Manesh nodded once in respect and turned to leave, an amused glint in his eye and the ghost of a smile on his face.
   Bloody diplomats Kessler muttered under his breath. Clamping his cigar back into his teeth, he activated the commlink to his Outer Office.
    "Cherenkov, you'd better have a good excuse for this," he growled into the speaker.
   "Uhh, Colonel Cherenkov's not in the office right now, sir. This is Lieutenant Dickinson, sir."
   Kessler's brow furrowed in perplexity. Lieutenant Dickinson? The name sounded vaguely familiar.
    "You're the new Flag Lieutenant, right?"
   "Yes, sir."
   "And did Colonel Cherenkov not instruct you that the Orthodoxy Ambassador was to be refused access to my Inner Office?"
   "The Colonel did leave instructions to that effect sir, but I thought that since he was accompanied by Lord Ambassador Manesh it would be okay. Sir."
   Kessler's free hand groped across his desk to the large glass paperweight that sat on top of his in-tray. It was about the size of a man's fist, and balanced perfectly for throwing.
    "Oh you thought did you? I see. Lieutenant Dickinson, please step into my Office."

    Reugen straightened his uniform and together with Captain Warren, approached the ISD Relentless' Commodore as he studied a tactical display. Maldon looked up at Reugen and raised a hand, indicating he should wait.
    Reugen observed the tactical display he was discussing with the Officer of the Watch. Displayed were several navigational markers along the IO border, each assigned a Flight of Starfighters on Reconnaissance duty. Highlighted in red were several hotspots, areas judged where it was most likely the renegade task force would try to slip through the line. Patrols were heavier here, but resources were still stretched awfully thin.
    Eventually, Maldon and Lieutenant finished their discussion and he nodded, indicating Reugen should speak.
    "I've completed my analysis as you requested, sir."
    "Okay, Major. Spit it out."
    Reugen took a deep breath. "Given the size of the area we have to patrol, and given the forces at our disposal, there's a less than twelve per cent chance that we're going to intercept Kusanagi. Even when the Frigates Calico and Tribal arrive, we still won't have enough to increase that factor to more than fifteen percent. That's the good news. The bad news is, that even if we do get lucky, our forces are too thinly spread to do anything if we do find them. Whoever is unlucky enough to discover her ships will be lucky to signal a warning before her escorts destroy them. Then she'll be alerted and will simply microjump out again. Unless they run smack into the Relentless or the Harpax II, we don't have a hope"
    Maldon frowned. "So what you're saying is that in all likelihood, we're screwed?"
    Reugen nodded apologetically.
    "Not good enough" Maldon countered. "Find a solution."
    There's something depressingly predictable about people in positions of power. Something about rank seems to convey an unshakeable belief in these people, that if you simply shout at people enough, even the most impossible demands will be complied with. What's really depressing is that for some inexplicable reason, it actually works from time to time.
    Reugen hadn't survived as an undercover Intel agent living under a false identity on the Fringe for eight years without learning a thing or two about how to survive in hostile environments. And he hadn't made it Major in Intel by being unable to anticipate the demands of his superiors either. This time, thanks to Warren's alertness, and a few stiff drinks, he had the germ of an idea.
    "In anticipation of your…demand, Captain Warren and I have formulated a theory, sir." Swiftly, and with the minimum of fuss, he explained the circumstances surrounding the disappearance of the CRS Insurgence.
    Maldon frowned and rubbed his jaw. "This has got to be connected, but I don't see how we can turn this to our advantage."
    Reugen nodded to Warren, who cleared his throat and spoke. "Major Reugen and I believe that the significant factor here is that due to the necessity of having to transit Indie territory, the Insurgence is without her fighter cover. If she is in EH space, and we all believe that to be the case, she'll be staying as far away from contact with our forces as humanly possible. She'll have no scouting capability, she won't know what's ahead of her until she gets there. Without her fighters she's vulnerable to the first routine gunboat patrol that stumbles across her. We don't believe they're eager to risk a ship like one of their MC-80s so easily."
    Reugen took up the thread. "We think they've somehow managed to organise a method of re-supplying the Insurgence with starfighters, and more importantly, we think we know how they did it."
    He pulled out a shipping manifest and handed it to Maldon who looked at the figures blankly.
    "This is the manifest of a freighter convoy led by the FRT Blue. For ease of reference we'll refer to it as the Blue Convoy from now on." He indicated a list on the manifest. "Here you can see that Blue was carrying thirty six X-Wing fighters and munitions from the Incom licensed manufacturing plant on the Independent world of Eldoray II. You can see the purchase order here…" he indicated a stamp at the bottom of the page. "The craft had been purchased by the government of Barakka for use with the fighter squadrons of that world's Royal Guard."
    Maldon nodded. "Let me see if I can guess, they never made the delivery?"
    "We don't know, we got this information from the weekly Intel Summary. Intel routinely track the movements of military equipment throughout the Independent Territories."
    "So what makes this convoy so unusual?"
    "For one thing, I worked as a field agent before I was transferred to Internal Affairs. I spent ten years operating as a smuggler in the Indie worlds, and I can tell you that there is no Incom manufacturing plant on Eldoray II."
    Maldon stared at Reugen for a good long minute before finally replying with barely suppressed impatience. "And why didn't Intel spot this sooner?"
    "Sir, you have to understand that Intel has to sift through masses of raw data like this every day. The people who work on analysing military equipment transfers don't work in the same department as the people who keep tabs on military industries. This Intel Summary is nothing more than a dump of raw data, the analysis of that data will still be ongoing. We only spotted this because we knew exactly what we were looking for. The analysts on the PLT Stiletto are looking for connections in everything, not just this one small area."
    Maldon conceded the point with bad grace. "Okay, Major, I take your point. How does this help us?"
    "I sent a priority signal to Headquarters demanding the current location and destination of Convoy Blue. It was a pretty long shot, but I got something. They're still travelling under the same registration, and they crossed the border through the Dendrite Drift yesterday. The Interdictor Harpax II checked them and cleared them for passage to Argimiliar. They're carrying industrial supplies this time, which means they transferred their X-Wings to the Insurgence in Indie space, probably at the same time as the Insurgence disappeared. The interesting thing about their manifest this time, however, is that while their cargo could be described as "industrial supplies" if you take a good long look at exactly what kind of equipment they're shipping, you'll realise that it could also be called "starfighter repair and resupply equipment."
    Maldon's eyes gleamed. "They're going to rendezvous with the Insurgence."
    Reugen nodded, a sly smile spreading across his face. "Almost certainly, and the really good news is, they're in Emperor's Hammer space now. Our border controls are a lot tighter than the Indies' and if they ever want to leave our territory without being arrested, they're going to stick to the flight plan they filed when they passed through customs. Which means that somewhere along that route, they're going to meet the Insurgence. With a small amount of luck, we'll run into Vice Admiral Kusanagi and her little friends too."
   "If we take it for granted that Kusanagi is somehow connected with the activities of the Insurgence" Maldon observed.
    Reugen crossed his arms and eyed Maldon critically. "You really think this is all a co-incidence, sir?"
    Maldon pondered the possibilities for a few seconds. It didn't take him long to reach a conclusion. "No, Major. No, I don't." He heaved a sigh of frustration. "We're too far away from Argimiliar to make any difference now. We'd better signal Battlegroup High Command with your findings. Make sure Fleet gets a copy of this too, they'll most likely divert an ASF ship to check them out, they're closest." He pursed his lips in distaste as he remembered something. "Better alert them to the fact that we've most likely removed the Harpax II from her picket duty on the Dendrite Drift unnecessarily too. They'll need to get that gap in the line closed, and close it soon. No sense in allowing them to escape the same way they got in."
    Reugen smiled and handed a signal pad to the Rear Admiral. "At once sir. I've already got my report written. If you could just sign it we'll get it transmitted right away."
    Maldon gave Reugen a sour look. "You think of everything, don't you?"
    "I try to sir. That's what they pay me for."
    Maldon paused in the act of the signing the signal as a thought struck him. "Only one thing bothers me. Convoy Blue is carrying repair and resupply equipment, which means that the Insurgence is expecting to have taken losses somewhere before they meet up with the convoy, surely?"
    "Ah.. yes." Reugen shifted uncomfortably. "That's the one thing we haven't quite worked out yet."
    "The thing is," Maldon continued, "if they come into contact with our forces we're going to come down on them like a ton of duracrete. I can understand them wanting to be ready for a fight if it comes to that, but they're a lone Cruiser, deep behind enemy lines. If I were in their position, I'd be jumping at every shadow, desperate to avoid detection. So who are they expecting to have to fight, here, in our territory?"
    "We're working on that one sir. Best guess is that they intend to fight their way clear of our border forces when they make a run for home."
    "Yes, I suppose that makes sense." Vaguely troubled, Maldon signed the signal. 

    Vice Admiral Sarok was interrupted from his reverie by the appearance of Rear Admiral Cyric at his shoulder. The ISD Intrepid Commodore cleared his throat politely to capture the attention of the Aggressor Strike Force Commander, startling Sarok slightly.
    "What is it, Rear Admiral?"
    "Incoming holo from Fleet Command sir." Cyric informed him.
    Surprised, Sarok raised an eyebrow. "Strange, it's been quiet. Oh well, let's see what Kessler needs from us." He walked the length of the bridge to his seat and considered sitting before deciding better of the idea. This was a message from the TIE Corps Commander after all. He stood respectfully at ease and nodded to the Communications Yeoman.
    Fleet Admiral Kessler's image appeared hovering in the air before him. He wasn't seated at his desk at Fleet Headquarters, but appeared to be onboard a ship of some description. Peering closely at the seal on the bulkhead behind him, Sarok realised he was calling from his office suite on the SSSD Sovereign. As a rule, Kessler only visited the Sovereign when the Fleet was mobilising or when Grand Admiral Ronin had called for him. He sincerely hoped it wasn't the former.  On consideration, Ronin didn't normally call for Kessler unless he'd offended someone, and that usually meant Kessler was going to be in a bad mood. Perhaps it would be preferable if the Fleet were being mobilised after all?
   "Sarok, glad I caught you. Give me a second to get Ricaud patched in…"
   Looks like the Fleet was mobilising then. Vice Admiral Ricaud's image appeared next to Kessler's; the two officers frozen in a flickering blue tableau, then the encryption circuit synchronised and the holograms animated again.
   "Right," Kessler began. "I'm not in the mood to mess around, so pay attention. Ricaud already knows most of the details so I don't intend to bore him with irrelevant data. Sarok, I'm dumping the necessary files to you now, you can go over them later and fill yourself in on the details, but here's the basics. Vice Admiral Akiko Kusanagi has taken off with the entire Daedalus Training Flotilla, and over three hundred pilot cadets."
   Sarok's jaw dropped open. "How the hell…"
    Kessler raised a hand. "Not now, Sarok, we don't have time, it's all in the report. We had a good lead that she was intending to run for Orthodoxy territory, so that's the avenue we've been directing our search along. Val's Battlegroup have been concentrating their efforts along the Orthodoxy border and its approaches, however, I just received a Intelligence Report from the Relentless that indicates a Rebel Cruiser took advantage of our diverting the pickets along the Dendrite Drift, to slip across our border undetected."
   Ricaud looked shocked, then vaguely guilty. "Don't blame yourself, Val. Your conjecture about the Imperial Orthodoxy involvement was a good idea. Not your fault that it seems we were intended to fall for it all along."
   Sarok frowned. "Sir, are you saying that this Daedalus mutiny and the Rebel Incursion are related incidents?"
    Kessler nodded. "Absolutely. We have some very reliable intelligence that proves this wasn't a simple case of a Rebel ship taking advantage of a sudden opportunity to a exploit a gap in our defences. The infiltration was meticulously planned, they couldn't have done it without knowing exactly when our picket ships were going to withdraw. In order for them to have known and prepared for that, they must have known that Kusanagi was going to defect before we did, and they must have also been counting on our suspecting the Orthodoxy of being involved."
   Ricaud interjected. "So we're now ruling out Orthodoxy involvement?"
   Kessler shook his head. "No, Val. Right now I'm not ruling anything out, but our resources are stretched and Orthodoxy collusion looks increasingly unlikely. We have zero hard evidence that they even know this situation is occurring, let alone that they're involved. We do know, however, that the Rebellion is somehow in this up their precious, tree-hugging, hippy necks." He paused for breath. "We also know that the Orthodoxy are screaming blue murder about what they perceive as our threatening military build-up along their border, and we also know that Grand Admiral Ronin doesn't appreciate Fleet Admirals who insult Orthodoxy Ambassadors and have them thrown out of their offices." He flicked a glance at Ricaud who was covering his mouth with his hand and trying hard not to laugh.
   "Yeah well, that's another story, but the thing is we're going to have to scale down our presence on the Orthodoxy border. Val - see to it that the Relentless and her forces step down their activity. We've got a lot of Orthodox warships massing on their side of the border in direct response to our movements, and when I say a lot, I mean it. Having so many of our people conducting aggressive patrols so close to their Fleet is an inherently dangerous situation. Wars have happened over less."
   Ricaud scowled. "If you insist, sir."
"You're damn right I insist. I'm not losing the Relentless over a petty case of sabre-rattling that should never have happened in the first place. Besides which, we now have a good solid lead on the Rebs."
   He focussed on Sarok. "That's where you come in, Sarok. We have every indication that the Rebel CRS Insurgence intends to make a rendezvous with a resupply convoy which is currently enroute to the Argimiliar system. I understand the Intrepid is only twelve light years from there?"
   Sarok nodded, a grim smile clamping down on his lips. "That's correct sir. We can be at Argimiliar within the hour."
   "Excellent. I've transmitted the route that the convoy will be taking along with all available intelligence on the situation. I want you to stalk that convoy, shadow it all along its course. It's imperative that your presence not be detected. Somewhere along that route they're going to meet up with the Insurgence. When they do I want your Interdictors to pin them down and then you must capture that Cruiser!"
   Kessler's eyes flashed as he stabbed his finger down on his desk to emphasise the point. "Don't fail me on this one Sarok. That Cruiser is planning to meet Kusanagi's ships somewhere along the line, and they can tell us where she plans to be. If we don't take them alive we're going to lose over three hundred starfighter cadets. That's enough to fully crew the Battlegroups with all of its squadrons at maximum capacity! We cannot screw up on this one! Vice Admiral Holm is sending Praetorian Squadron to assist you. They should arrive within the hour. Make good use of them, they're going to be your eyes and ears."
   Sarok nodded again. "Understood, sir. We'll get them, I promise you."
    Kessler smiled at last. "I don't doubt that you will. Kessler out."



   Captain Vigsted sat at the bridge of the Insurgence, waiting patiently. Stars bled past in luminous streaks of brilliance, then slowed and surged back into tiny pinpricks of stellar fire.
    "Sensors!" he snapped, his hands clutching at the armrests of his seat, betraying his anxiety.
    "All twelve freighters in place and accounted for, sir. Long range scans reveal the presence of no enemy forces."
    With a sigh, he relaxed slightly. They were safe for the moment, but they weren't out of deep water yet.
    "Launch the Longprobes, patrol pattern Epsilon, passive sensors only. Then I want Grey Squadron launched and flying patrol in case someone stumbles onto us."
    He turned to the short human in the uniform of an Imperial TIE Corps Captain and grunted. "Well Eisen, it seems we might have pulled this off."
    Captain Josef Eisen clasped his hands behind his back and sneered. "Hardly a totally successful conclusion though, is it, Captain?"
    Vigsted suppressed a snort of anger. "I'm not going to debate our orders with you, Captain. We got you out in one piece, even if that Imperial bitch managed to escape, which to be frank, I couldn't really care less about. My first loyalty is to my ship and crew, not New Republic Intelligence's half-baked ideas of what constitutes logical military planning!" He settled back into his seat. "I'd like to meet whichever idiot decided that a single MC-80 could take on a force of that size and successfully neutralise them this deep into enemy territory!"
    "An enemy force using starfighters that were obsolete even at the Battle of Endor, and which were being piloted by Academy Cadets!" Eisen reminded him.
    Vigsted gave up trying to contain his anger. "Might I remind you, Captain, that we lost four pilots today and took a heavy battering trying to extract you from the mess you got yourself into?"
    Eisen ignored his comment. "You had no business trying to take on those Frigates anyway. Your mission to was to neutralise the threat posed by those cadets and destroy the Escort Carrier, not the entire Flotilla. This rendezvous is pointless anyway. It places us in unnecessary danger. We should be on our way back to the Drift by now. That Interdictor won't be gone forever."
    Vigsted felt his gill slits flapping in open annoyance. With an effort he steadied himself and tried to remain calm. "I really couldn't care less what your opinion is, Captain. I'm not risking my crew trying to get out through the Drift without their ships back at full operational effectiveness, so I'll thank you to shut the hell up and allow me to do my job."
    Mercifully, Eisen didn't comment.
    "Captain Vigsted, sir" the bridge sensor op reported. "The Longprobes are picking up anomalous sensor readings, Lieutenant Commander Ryan doesn't know what to make of it."
    Vigsted frowned. "Can you confirm their readings?"
    "Negative sir, we read nothing out of the ordinary."
    "Find out what he's talking about, get it patched through to the bridge."
    "Yes, sir. I..."
    A alarm disturbed the tense silence with a shrill warble, dragging the sensor op's attention back to his console. His face went white in alarm.
    Vigsted tried to control the mounting tension and dug his fingers into his armrest. "What is it, Lieutenant?"
    "Both Y-Wing Longprobes just went off our sensors. I'm picking up radiation surges… it looks as if they've been destroyed, sir. I'm trying to increase scan resolution to search for filtered ion streams, but it'll be a few seconds before the interference from the explosions dies down enough to get any kind of sensor reading on the new scans."
   Filtered ion streams? Cloaked fighters? "Shields up! All hands to Battle Stations!"
    Eisen laid a hand on Vigsted's shoulder in warning. "If you switch to active sensors we can be detected!"
    Vigsted snatched his arm away in irritation. "It's too late for that you fool, we're already under attack!" He began issuing instructions to manoeuvre the ship to protect the Freighters while the hyperdrive was warmed up, praying that they had enough time.
    "Proximity alarm sir! I'm picking up ships exiting from hyperspace... sir, it's a Star Destroyer!"
    Vigsted blanched with fear as the massive, hulking form of an Imperial II Class Star Destroyer emerged from hyperspace practically on top of them. Swarms of TIE Defenders and Missileboats began to stream from her launch bays as the beleaguered X-Wings of Grey Squadron began to assume defensive positions around their mothership. A second arrow-like craft, smaller than the Destroyer, but with four dome-like protrusions extending from her upper and lower hull appeared a second later.
    "Sir, we're being hailed. They're demanding our surrender."
    Vigsted's shoulders slumped in defeat as Eisen gesticulated wildly. "You can't surrender, we have to get out of here!"
    "Eisen, that's an Interdictor Cruiser you fool. We can't escape and I won't see my men die in vain today. Lieutenant, open a channel to the Captain of that Destroyer."
   "This is Vice Admiral Sarok of the Aggressor Strike Force Star Destroyer Intrepid. Stand down your fighters, lower your shields and prepare to be boarded. Resistance will be met with your total destruction. You have thirty seconds to comply. Sarok out."
   Vigsted ignored Eisen increasingly panicked demands and turned to his Tactical Officer. "Lower the shields and stand down Grey Squadron. We've lost this one. Begin destroying all communications codes and wipe the data core of the central computer." He gazed out of the bridge windows, shoulders slumped in defeat as Assault Transports cleared the Intrepid's launch bays and closed in rapidly.

    Kessler woke with a start. For a second he couldn't remember where he was, then realisation flooded back to him as the low hum of sublight engines intruded on his consciousness. He was aboard the Excelsior, his personal Shuttle, enroute back to Fleet Command on Aurora Prime. Gazing out of the window, he caught a glimpse of Aurora City, gleaming like a jewel in the nightside of the world fast approaching below.
    With a yawn, he stretched his tired muscles and closed his eyes, determined to catch another half hour's sleep before the Excelsior landed. Colonel Cherenkov had other ideas, however.
    A soft cough from behind signalled that sleep was a luxury Kessler wasn't going to enjoy on this flight. Sighing, he craned his head around to see his grizzled Secretary waiting patiently.
    "Important message?"
    Cherenkov nodded.
    Cursing under his breath, Kessler stood and followed Cherenkov aft to the communications suite. A Navy Chief Yeoman stood and offered him the seat. "Message from Vice Admiral Sarok, sir."
    Kessler grunted and sat at the message terminal, then nodded.
    Sarok's image swam into focus and Kessler waited patiently.
   "Sir, we've captured the Insurgence and Convoy Blue as planned. Praetorian Squadron were invaluable in tracking them and enabling us to get into ambush position so easily. No losses were sustained."
   "Good work, Sarok. Any news of where and when they plan to rendezvous with Kusanagi?"
    Sarok's grin broadened. "They already have, sir. There appears to be more going on here than we initially suspected."
   Kessler frowned. He was tired, grouchy and confused; and he certainly wasn't in the mood for guessing games. "Sarok, I was asleep two minutes ago. You're going to have spell this out for me."
   "Certainly, Admiral. It seems that Captain Eisen was a New Republic Intelligence deep cover agent. Now that we've got our hands on him, he's proving to be exceptionally talkative."
   "Eisen? How did.. never mind, I'm sure you're about to explain."
    Sarok continued. "It's a long story, but these are the salient points. Eisen has revealed that a year ago, he became aware that Vice Admiral Kusanagi wasn't the most honest Officer in the Fleet. It was fairly easy for him to corrupt her with funds embezzled from the Training Budget, and this of course, left her open to blackmail by New Republic Intelligence. He was very careful to make sure any indications of malpractice in the financial records would point straight to Kusanagi and not him, although of course, he was skimming funds out of her share too.
    "Now it starts to get complicated. Two months ago, she got too greedy for her own good. Eisen is very good at manipulating computer records, but the money they were making from the Training Budget wasn't enough for her. She confided in him a plan that was going to make them rich beyond their wildest dreams, but unfortunately for her, as a loyal New Republic agent, Eisen couldn't allow her to succeed in her plan. So suddenly, errors started to appear in her financial accounts. Fleet Finance spotted them, Intel was alerted, and a warrant was put out for her arrest."
   Kessler rubbed his eyes. "What was this scheme she dreamed up, Sarok?"
   "Sir, I think you owe Vice Admiral Ricaud an apology. She brokered a deal with the Imperial Orthodoxy to bring them our starfighter cadets."
   Kessler blinked furiously. It all started to make sense. New Republic Intelligence must have ordered Eisen to prevent Kusanagi from completing the deal. The Imperial Orthodoxy was an aggressive organisation, far more so than the Emperor's Hammer. With the increase in operational effectiveness that a fully manned starfighter corps would bring, the threat to the borders of the New Republic would be considerable. So Eisen had started leaving deliberate clues in Kusanagi's finance records, waiting for Fleet Finance to spot the Audit trail and call in Intel to do his dirty work for him. It was a simple, elegant plan. Kessler found himself admiring the man.
    "But it didn't quite work, did it?"
   "No, sir. Eisen doesn't know how, but Kusanagi found out about the arrest. She had no reason not to trust Eisen, however, so she told him she was accelerating her plan and they were leaving almost immediately. Eisen was forced to activate a contingency plan, very short notice, very high risk. He played along with Kusanagi but brought in the Insurgence to attack Kusanagi's ships, wipe out her Escort Carrier and retrieve him safely. Things didn't go according to plan however, the Cadet Starfighters put up a spirited resistance and inflicted enough damage on the Rebel Cruiser and starfighters to force them to retreat having recovered Eisen's escape shuttle."
   Kessler felt his heart swelling with pride.
   "But sir, it gets better. New Republic Intelligence is even less happy with the idea of the Orthodoxy getting their hands on those cadets than we are. Eisen's offered us a deal."
   "Spit it out, Sarok."
   "We let him and the Insurgence go free and he tells us where to find the rendezvous between Kusanagi and the Orthodoxy Fleet!"

    Akiko Kusanagi struggled to sit upright in the command seat of the Dreadnought Nagisa. Long hours of stress and lack of sleep had combined to take their toll on her health. She knew that her officers were suspicious, but they'd accepted her orders that they should wait at this point near the border to be joined by friendly escorts before returning to the Daedalus. She'd ordered a total communications blackout, explaining that the sudden appearance of the Rebel Cruiser meant a probable invasion by Rebel forces, and any communications could give away their position, with fatal consequences.
    Commander Drax in particular was openly sceptical, but had stopped short of outright mutiny. She didn't believe she could continue the charade for much longer however.
    Damn Eisen! Traitorous scum! A lot of things began to make sense with the knowledge that he'd been a New Republic Intelligence agent all along. The way those accounting errors had sneaked into her records shortly after she'd revealed her plan to him, the audit, the warrant for her arrest. The son of a bitch had planned it all. He hadn't planned for the Orthodoxy agent in EH Intel who'd warned her of the arrest, however. That much he hadn't foreseen.
    But the reality of his betrayal had come as shock, nevertheless. She found herself drumming her fingers on the armrest of her seat, several bridge officers had noticed and were staring. She forced herself to appear calm. They think I'm just an Academy fool who's struggling to come to terms with facing real combat at last. As long as that's the worst thing they suspect, I might get away with this after all…
  

    Rear Admiral Maldon sat at the bridge of the Relentless, teeth clenched in impatience. They'd been a mere six light years from Kusanagi's rendezvous point when the word had arrived from Battlegroup Command. Ricaud had been barely able to contain his excitement. Relentless was the only ship close enough to make the intercept in the timeframe allowed. The Harpax II was in hyperspace enroute back to the Dendrite Drift and couldn't be contacted, so the Relentless was without Interdictor support. Ricaud had made it clear that a lot would depend on how many of Kusanagi's officers were part of the mutiny, and how many were unwitting pawns. If the Nagisa didn't surrender immediately, they were going to be lucky to destroy them before they could escape again. Maldon didn't believe in luck.
    Major Reugen's analysis of the situation was comforting at least. Kusanagi couldn't have more than one or two of her key officers fully aware of the situation. Ideally this would include her Signal Communications Officer, and Tactical Officer. If she was working alone, she'd be suffering from extreme stress, especially after the shock of Eisen's betrayal. Her crew would certainly be suspicious, Maldon was counting on that. No, Maldon was depending on that.
    The massive warship dropped out of hyperspace seamlessly and Maldon ordered full reverse on the sublight engines. The Relentless screamed to a halt a bare thousand metres short of the Nagisa, Wing IX's starfighters surging clear of her launch bays en masse.
    "Wing Ops, hold all squadrons in covering positions. Gunnery, lock your targets but do not fire. Tactical, pin that Escort Carrier with tractor beams. Communications, open a channel to the Nagisa" Maldon ordered.
    Watching events unfold from the bridge doors, Reugen held his breath.
    Maldon took a deep breath, paused, then began. "Dreadnought Nagisa, this is Rear Admiral Jarak Maldon of the TIE Corps Battlegroups Star Destroyer Relentless. We are here to escort you back to the Space Platform Daedalus. It is my duty to inform you that Vice Admiral Kusanagi is to be placed under arrest for high treason, by order of Fleet Admiral Kessler. Nagisa, you have one minute to comply with these orders and respond. Relentless out." He signalled for the transmission to be cut.
    Seconds ticked by with agonising slowness. Reugen began to sweat, wondering what was happening on the bridge of the Dreadnought.
    Without any warning, events were taken out of their hands.
    With a flicker of pseudomotion, two Star Destroyers dropped out of hyperspace three thousand metres off the Relentless' starboard bow, adjacent to the flotilla. Maldon stared at them impassively, demanding an identity check from the sensor station.
    "ID Check negative, sir. They're not ours."
    "No response to standard hails, sir. They're ignoring us."
    Reugen whispered in his ear. "Imperial Orthodoxy, they must be here for the cadets. I'd say we had a stand-off, sir."
    Both Destroyers turned to face the gathering of ships and began to launch starfighters, two squadrons each of sleek TIE Avengers streaked clear of the launch bays and formed up into Flights.
    Maldon frowned. "Only two squadrons each? It's true about their pilot shortage then, we outnumber by them two squadrons at least."
    Reugen coughed politely. "Yes, but they're crewed by veteran pilots, sir. I hardly need remind you that nearly a third of this Wing is made up of first semester Cadets dragged from Daedalus who have never flown live before today."
    "Yeah, " Maldon whispered back, nodding in the direction of the two brooding ships. "But those bastards don't know that."
    The two fleets faced each other across the void, the prize of Kusanagi's tiny flotilla and the precious Escort Carrier between them. Relentless continued to signal the interlopers, demanding their retreat. She remained ignored.
    The first movement, when it came, came as a shock . Nagisa and her frigate escorts began to manoeuvre, swinging about to assume covering fire support positions on the Relentless' flanks in a broad delta with Nagisa at the apex. The Escort Carrier began to disgorge streams of TIE Fighters and Bombers, which formed up into textbook drill formations and assumed attack positions on the TIE Avenger squadrons. Watching them marshal their antiquated ships into perfect formation, ready to fight and die for the TIE Corps, Maldon felt a lump of solid pride swell in his chest at the bravery and professionalism of the TIE Corps Cadets that Kusanagi had tried to sell today. They deserved better than this.
    The bridge speakers crackled into life with a burst of static.
    "Relentless this is Commander Drax of the Nagisa. All ships report ready to fire at your order, sir."
   A thin trickle of sweat beaded at Maldon's brow as his face cracked into a relieved grin. "Glad to have you with us, Commander. Hold your fire at present, await further orders for now."
    Without a single word to mark their passing, the massed ranks of TIE Avengers peeled away and returned to their hangars, the two interloper Destroyers retreating as silently as they came.
    Wild cheers erupted on the bridge and Maldon sagged back into his seat in relief. Reugen took off his cap and grinned unselfconsciously. "Well sir, if I ever agree to play poker with you, get someone to sit on me until the urge passes. You were dealt a hand full of crap and you bluffed your way right out of it. Very impressive!"
    Maldon shook his head, staring with pride at the flights of bombers and fighters that were flying in a victory parade past the bridge. "A hand full of crap? No, Major," he smiled fondly. "I had all the Aces." 

    Kessler put down his cigar and sipped at his mug of java as he read the news of Kusanagi's trial and execution. Grimacing in distaste, he spat out the hot liquid and set the cup down. It tasted flat. Chief Steward Winter held the belief that he could break Kessler of his bad habits. He'd started by removing all of the ashtrays from his office, but Kessler kept a spare in his desk drawer for emergencies. Point to Kessler.
    Then Kessler had noticed small decorations appearing in his office. The fresh flowers which appeared on the conference table every day, the antique bookcase which had mysteriously arrived over a weekend, full of leather-bound volumes on military history and tactics. The oil paintings of famous ships and Admirals that had sprung up one by one. The fresh toiletries that replenished themselves in the office bathroom suite. Point to Winter.
    Now he'd graduated to "forgetting" to add sugar to his java. Kessler sighed and opened his desk drawer. He added a few generous spoonfuls of real sugar to his drink then returned the packet to his secret stash. He sipped the java. Perfect. Point to Kessler
    He reflected that things must be getting bad when a man had to sneak sugar into his own damn office, but he secretly enjoyed the daily battle of wits with his Chief Steward. It was a pleasant distraction from the daily grind of memos, meetings and conferences.
    Turning back to the news display leading with the headlines of Kusanagi's case, he sighed. Another battle fought from the safety of his desk, another victory for the forces of bureaucracy. Rear Admiral Maldon had been praised for his part in the operation, of course. The Press were treating him as the hero of the hour, and well they should. Ambassador Rampala had returned from the Orthodoxy to Lord Ambassador Manesh with an unannounced trade treaty that was very favourable towards the Emperor's Hammer. No-one said anything officially, of course, but knowing glances were exchanged across the table as the Treaty was signed.
    Finally, Vice Admiral Langer, Supreme Director of Intel Division, had received a gift of a case of the finest Corellian Brandy and a heartfelt apology from the Flight Office, with a recommendation that a certain Major Carlist Reugen be promoted at the earliest convenience. A few days later, an envelope from the Ubiqtorate had arrived with an Internal Affairs Personnel Memo which announced the promotion of Colonel Carlist Reugen (details withheld for security reasons). There was also a card, which simply read: "Forgiven. SD/VA Langer."
   The door to the office opened and Chief Winter entered, bearing a tray of food. Surprised, Kessler checked his watch. It was lunchtime after all.
    "Good day, sir. Lunch is served" Winter greeted him, placing the tray at the edge of his desk. "Did the Admiral enjoy his drink?"
    "Yes, thank you, the Admiral certainly did," Kessler replied heartily. "Excellent as usual, Winter." He watched out of the corner of his eye for any trace of disappointment, but Winter had been playing this game for far too long and was too wily a player to make as basic a slip as that. Kessler eyed the food cautiously. "What's this?"
    "If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll empty the ashtray for you and replace it with a clean one."
    "Yes, yes, but what's this?" Kessler indicated the food.
    "A light salad of bridle berries and Auroran wisp flower, tossed in a creamed cheese sauce, sir. Most nutritious."
    "I don't care if it's been planted by Palpatine and picked by Piett, salad isn't food. Salad's what food eats! Take it away and bring me something that used to frolic carelessly in sun drenched meadows!"
    Winter picked up the tray and replaced the cover with a smile. "If you insist, sir."
    Watching him leave, Kessler chuckled to himself, then reached for his ashtray. It was gone of course, and he'd be lucky if he ever saw it again. He thought the skirmish over the salad had been too easy. Now, of course, he could see that it had only been a feinting attack, a diversion designed to drag his attention away from the true prize - his ashtray!
    Muttering curses under his breath, he opened up his desk drawer again and extracted a crystal tumbler and a small bottle of Corellian Brandy. He poured himself a generous dram and washed out his tonsils with it, savouring the fiery liquor as it cauterised its way down his throat. Pouring himself another, he replaced the bottle, locking the drawer again. The glass he set down on his desktop, within easy reach in case he needed it in a hurry. Then he picked up a report and began to read, waiting for Winter to return with lunch.
    It was highly unlikely that Kessler would ever sit at the bridge of a Star Destroyer again, and his chances of ever piloting a TIE again were infinitesimal. But not all battles were fought in the cold hard vacuum of space.
    Winter really hated it when he drank brandy in the office.