Sehren Senn grinned hugely at his assembled conspirators.

"Good afternoon, friends. Thank you for coming on such short notice. Today, I bring you some live entertainment." Senn laid a cheap scanner on the table between them all. "This disposable scanner is connected to the wire in Commander Ordren's office. Guess who today's special guest is?"

Rax and Idrian leaned forward.

"You got a wire into Ordren's office?" Idrian said airily. "I'm almost impressed. I take back some of the things I've said about you."

"I'm more interested in talking about the Oryndrax problem," groused Rax.

"All in good time," Senn said magnanimously. "I have a plan for that that I think you'll like. But first let's listen in."

There was some interference in the audio, then it clarified. There was the sound of someone clumping around, the scraping of a chair. A chime sounded.

"Come." Commander Ordren's voice was tinny and flat through the cheap speaker.

"I'm here as you requested, Commander." Even through the cheap speaker, Grimthorn's voice came through clear and strong.

"Sit. You'll be here a while," Commander Ordren said. There was a pause. "So. Explain to me why the Ninth Fleet lost 17 ships and gave away an Imperial Terraforge. And why the bugs still aren't dead. According to this report I received, we're... rebuilding their homeworld?"

"The goal was never to eliminate the Oryndrax, sir," Grimthorn replied. "If you look at the mission briefing I filed with your office--"

"To Geina with your mission briefing! You left an extant threat to the Imperium--"

"Exactly where I planned to. All jumpholes where closed but one. The Oryndrax are contained."

A noise of a chair sliding back, then pacing feet.

"And they still have a fleet! Grimthorn, you are a disgrace to this service, and a disgrace to your uniform!"

Senn cackled. "It's so nice to hear the Commander say what we've all been thinking," he said.

"By all means," Grimthorn said, his voice taking a steely tone. "Share with me where, precisely, my approach could use improvement."

"Where--! You could start by explaining how you lost seventeen ships! It was supposed to be a simple operation!"

"Combat never goes to plan. Which you'd know, if you'd ever been in the field."

"We're not here to talk about my service," Ordren roared. "We're here to talk about your failure! How you failed to execute a simple plan: jump in, take them by surprise, blow up the docks, collapse the jumpholes!"

"They weren't surprised," Grimthorn said.

"What?"

"The Oryndrax weren't surprised. They knew we were coming. None of their ships were docked. They started hitting our recon ships as soon as they came out of jumpspace."

"Yes, yes!" Senn said with glee. "Now how could that have happened?" Even carefree Idrian and sour Rax had grins as they listened to the dressing-down.

"So you failed in your operational security." Commander Ordren barked. "You let the plan leak to the bugs!"

"You're welcome to review our opsec standards. The Ninth Fleet has never had a leak. It's far more likely that the leak originated here, at CenCom."

There was the clatter of a chair being knocked over, and storming feet. The crack of a slap rang through the speaker.

"We are CenCom! We don't make mistakes!"

Senn giggled. "It's nice to know that Admiral Stonefist makes everyone that angry," he said.

"Only a loose-cannon, washed-up worthless worm from the back end of the galaxy would screw up like that and try to blame it on the one good thing left in this Navy!"

"If CenCom is the good part of the Navy, then the Imperium truly is in dire straits."

"Are you looking to get chaptered out, Admiral? I'll file the paperwork right now!"

"On what grounds?"

"Insubordination!" Commander Ordren yelled. "Incompetence! Violation of every reg the Navy has! I'd have you out of here so fast you'd think you went through a jumphole!"

"Oh? And do you think that would play well in your precious political circles?"

There was a long, dangerous silence.

"You watch yourself, Admiral. The Navy isn't as popular as it used to be. Her aging heroes don't have the support of the citizenry any more."

"Then perhaps we should focus on the issues at hand."

"Yes. Like how a high-priority Navy operation was leaked to the Oryndrax."

"We swept the entirety of the Swordheart for listening devices. Twice. I can personally guarantee--"

"You can guarantee nothing. Because I don't think it was a listening device at all. You've got a mole in your fleet, Admiral."

Stolen story; please report.

There was a silence that was chilly even over the cheap speaker. The conspirators leaned forward with anticipation.

"Commander Ordren," Grimthorn said, his voice strangled with the effort of keeping it under control, "don't you dare accuse any one of my loyal crew--"

"Ah, but what about split loyalties?" Commander Ordren's smugness oozed through the scanner. "You have an SS in a very sensitive position, Admiral. Privy to things she shouldn't be."

A chair creaked as Admiral Stonefist stood slowly.

"You will not impugn Kinnit's honor."

"I'm not making any accusations. But she's an SS. An SS that has been imprisoned, not once, but twice."

"Falsely!"

"She murdered a crewmember!"

"She dealt with a traitor! She's saved the entire Ninth Fleet more than once! She prevented the Fifth Fleet from attacking a civilian planet! She's more Navy than you'll ever be, sitting here in your posh office with your slips and your toadies and your politics!"

"And yet, the Oryndrax knew you were coming." Ordren's sneer was clear, even in audio. "There has been a great deal of anti-Imperium sentiment from the SSes in Techterra lately. With this latest catastrophe on your record, I might recommend, Admiral, that you find a suitable replacement for your Assistant. Before CenCom takes a hand."

----------------------------------------

Grimthorn stormed out of the Central Command headquarters, his face carefully controlled.

Dass glanced up, took one look at Grimthorn's face and got into the cab of his truck.

"Hop in, girly. That man needs some help."

"Excuse me?"

"We need to get him to his therapy. He needs some man time."

Kinnit frowned at Dass. Her gaze traveled to Grimthorn and her disapproving frown turned into a worried frown. He really did look as furious as Kinnit had ever seen him.

"I know just what he needs," Dass said.

Ignoring Dass, she walked out and met Grimthorn as he was coming across the parking log.

"Grimthorn, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said shortly. "Just annoyed with typical CenCom garbage."

She was alarmed that he didn't meet her eyes when he said it.

"Are you sure? You seem upset."

"I said I'm fine," he growled.

"Grimthorn, my man!" Dass called. "I just scored a discount on a day pass to the gym! You want in?"

"Sure." Grimthorn stepped around Kinnit and got into the cab. Kinnit frowned fiercely and followed.

Grimthorn sat in stony silence as he rode. Dass kept up a constant flow of meaningless chatter. Kinnit fumed and fretted.

They arrived at a seedy-looking gym on the outskirts of the Naval district. Dass slapped Grimthorn's shoulder as he got down out of the truck.

"Hey, Grimthorn, watch out in here. I hear this gym doesn't maintain the limiters on their combat sims."

"Good," he growled.

They made their way in and Grimthorn immediately walked to the back and closed himself into one of the unarmed combat simulator rooms. In them, one could fight specialized droids that had breakaway limbs and collapsible body sections.

Kinnit scowled at Dass, keeping her distance.

"I wanted to talk about what's bothering him," she said acidly. "Not drag him to some grease-covered sweat pot."

Dass grinned roguishly, unperturbed, watching Admiral Stonefist through the smokey glass fronting the combat simulator.

"You'll have a lot better talk with him once he's worked out some frustrations. Trust me on this." He glanced over at her. "Besides, what do you care? He's grouch all the time anyway."

Kinnit blushed and stammered. "Oh! Well... with the, you know... Central Command, and I have to help with-- I need to know what's going on, so I can--"

Dass raised an eyebrow.

"It's like that, huh? I didn't think Grimthorn went for your type." He eyed her up and down. "I can see it though."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Don't act like I'm dumb, my dear. I've got eyes." Dass turned away. "I'm glad, though. Grimthorn's been needing someone to bring him down to earth."

Kinnit's mouth worked silently in fruitless fury as she tried to think of something to say.

----------------------------------------

The Emperor leaned back in his chair. The enormous, low, round table in front of him was simple in design but exceptionally well crafted. Its marble was perfectly polished, its tasteful gold inlay showing the Sigil of the Imperium was laid out with perfect precision. The Sigil adorned the wall behind him as well, flanked by the powder-blue banners of the Imperium. The air in the tall chamber was cool and dry, almost sterile. White sunlight shone in through lancet windows high above, lighting the room.

The Emperor smiled on the assembled ministers. The sat in thirteen chairs spaced sparsely around the rim of the table. The Imperial Council gathered regularly to discuss and guide the growth of the Imperium.

"Well, gentlemen," the Emperor said. "Let's start with updates."

Idrian Sertu, the Minister of War, stood.

"I have a matter I'd like to bring before the Council. It is regarding the--"

"Quiet, Idrian. Sit," the Emperor said. "Elder Council members go before the younger. You know this."

"I'm the oldest here!"

A frown creased the Emperor's face. It was a rare and alarming expression to see on the famously sunny Emperor.

"We've been over this, Idrian. Elderhood is determined by seniority, not age. You've been on the Council barely three years. If you wish to achieve a fourth year, please learn to follow protocol." The Emperor gestured to the Minister of Finance. "Please, Minister Seumic, start us off."

Idrian moodily sat back down. The elderly Minister Seumic slowly stood and grinned at Idrian, not in a friendly way.

"Yes, Minister Sertu," he said, "we're all well aware that you're of the Crysanthae species, the longest-lived of all the species of the Imperium. As you excellently model for us every session, long life does not automatically grant wisdom."

"Minister Sertu," the Emperor said, "let's leave personal comments and squabbles out of our Council session."

"Of course, your Imperial Majesty." The Minister of Finance bowed to the Emperor, cleared his throat and began to drily recount a tedious overview of the state of the Imperial economy.

Idrian seethed and fidgeted as each Minister in turn gave their update. At last it was his turn.

"Now, Minister Sertu, please update us on the state of war in our glorious Imperium."

"The Imperium is largely at peace, your Imperial Majesty. Revolutionaries in the outer territories are quiet, and the Fyronix have ceased hostilities, as expected. As the Minister of Diplomacy explained so exhaustively, they are sending negotiators and diplomats to broker a treaty. However, I want to make you aware of a problem with a certain Admiral of the Ninth Fleet--"

The Emperor held up his hand.

"This council is not for discussing individuals. It is for broader discussions that affect the whole Imperium."

Idrian ground his teeth.

"Yes, well, he's failed to wipe out the Oryndrax threat, is the problem that affects the whole Imperium."

"I see. So the operation to seal away the Oryndrax homeworld has failed?"

"It-- no, the jumpholes have been collapsed, but he had an opportunity to finish the Oryndrax threat once and for all, and instead, he's helping to rebuild their homeworld."

"So the Imperium is safe from them, then." The Emperor leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "I'm a little surprised to hear a Chrysanthae, of all species, advocating genocide."

Idrian turned red with suppressed fury.

"My people were nothing like the Oryndrax!" he yelled. "We were peaceful! Artisans and poets! Not a bunch of filthy bugs!"

The Emperor held up his hands.

"I apologize, Minister Sertu. It wasn't my intent to draw an equivalence between your species and the Oryndrax." The Emperor's gentle smile resurfaced. "Please, continue."

Idrian heaved, his fists on the table, on the verge of tears, staring at the Ministers who were looking uncomfortably away from him. He struggled to regain control of his emotions.

As his eyes flicked from face to face, one word burned in his mind.

Soon.