They jumped in near Vylaxis, one of the Vylar's great shipbuilding planets. Thousands of alerts lit the screen, warning of floating scaffolding, storage pods, and half-built ships surrounding the planet.

Admiral Stonefist stood at the bridge, his face as stony as his name. He'd been increasingly quiet since they'd decided to start their own investigation into the attack on Yellow Dog sector. Kinnit stood behind him, her scanner at ready, worrying about him.

The ISS Swordheart lit up as soon as they were out of jumpspace, busily deep-scanning every ship and piece of equipment in the sector, down to the last wrench.

The Vylar flightmaster for Vylaxis was signaling them with urgent priority. Which was only reasonable: the Ninth was a battle fleet unrivaled in the galaxy, thousands of ships strong, the clenched gauntlet of the Imperium. The flightmaster no doubt wanted to know why such a terrifying force had just shown up in his shipyard.

Grimthorn ignored the signal, letting it pulse.

"Status of the scan?" he barked.

"Nearly complete, sir," said Lieutenant Renning.

Mere minutes passed while the scan proceeded, but impatience and the pulsing priority signal stretched them out impossibly long.

"Scan complete, sir," Lieutenant Renning said finally.

"Very good. Get our infographers working on the scan data. I want to know every single secret they're hiding here."

Lieutenant Renning saluted sharply and rushed off.

"Now that we've gotten the scan done before they could hide anything, we can talk to them." Grimthorn lowered his chin, staring at the screen. Kinnit tried to match his grim demeanor, but it was like watching the fierceness of a kitten; more adorable than intimidating.

"Receive communication."

The Vylar flightmaster appeared on the screen. Like all Vylar, he had wide, dark eyes and a long, triangular head. His skin was bone-white. The greasy sheen on his skin and the black mottling that chased across the surface of his face made it clear how nervous he was.

"...repeat, this is flightmaster Mennig of Vylaxis space. What is your travel authorization? Where is your flight notice? We were not notified of your arrival."

Admiral Stonefist's face hardened. The Imperium spanned three galaxies, a million stars, and uncountable species, and somehow every species managed to produce the exact same flavor of bureaucrats.

"I come in the name of the Emperor. I am the Ninth Fleet. That is my authorization."

Rattled but unbowed, the Vylar rejoined.

"Why does the Imperium send a war fleet to Vylar space? What is your purpose?"

"My purpose is to find out why your ships attacked an Imperial outpost. And to eliminate whoever is responsible."

"This is outrageous! Why do you come here with these accusations? How dare you insinuate--"

Admiral Stonefist broke in and visibly turned to speak to someone on the bridge.

"Gunnery officer, do you have a fix on the flighmaster's location?"

"Located, sir. He's on a comms ship at two zero one mark one."

"Lock three torpedos on that ship."

"Locked, sir."

The Vylar's face was almost completely black.

"N-n-now see here," stammered the flightmaster. "There's no need for violence, I just-- this is highly irregular--"

"We are an investigative force. We will examine your planet, your yard, and your environs. If you object, then I will assume you were part of the attack and react accordingly."

"There's no need, no need for that, sir," Mennig said. "We'll cooperate." He turned and barked an order. "We'll cooperate fully."

"Yes, you will."

Admiral Stonefist switched off the screen. Kinnit let out a breath.

"Admiral, I understand the need to intimidate him, but don't you think that went a bit far?"

"Not far enough," Grimthorn seethed. "Not far enough by half. That slimy weed is working with the bugs. And when I get the evidence that he is, I will atomize him, his shipyard, and his entire planet." Admiral Stonefist's knuckles were white where his gripped the grab bar that circled the captain's dais. "There is no room for traitors in the Imperium. There is no room for those who would kill innocents."

Kinnit hesitantly laid a hand on his arm.

"Grimthorn..." He turned his fierce glare on her. "Admiral... we don't know that the Vylar were involved. There could be another explanation." She looked up at him earnestly, her eyes wide and guileless. "We all want justice. Those people in Yellow Dog sector, they deserve justice. But please let's make sure first."

She could see his jaw clenching as he stared down at her. She gazed up at him.

"I know the great Admiral Stonefist would not act rashly in this. Not with so many lives on the line."

He lifted his eyes and looked at the screen, unseeing.

"The Imperium spans three galaxies. We encompass thousands of worlds. Always there are those who would kill, destroy, and take. That's why species join the Imperium. The Imperium protects her people." His jaw continued clenching. "Except when we can't."

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He glanced down at her, and took a deep calming breath.

"You are too innocent for this work, Kinnit. Too kind a heart. But I will wait. For you, I will wait. I will make sure."

His hands gripped the grab bar.

"And then," he whispered, "I will make such an example of the ones responsible that their names will become a byword of the danger of crossing the Imperium for all time."

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The infographers didn't get the data parsed and sorted until the following day. In the interim, Imperium soldiers swept through nearly every building and factory on or around Vylaxis, gathering records and meticulously scanning every machine and most of the workers.

Grimthorn sat in his office, sifting through the findings and fuming at the delay, but every time he was on the verge of heading back to the bridge to dish out rash orders, he would look at Kinnit. She sat at her table, going through slips and tabulating data on her scanner. Often, she'd hum quietly to herself, or kick her feet or rock gently while she worked. For some reason, watching her calmed him.

Late that afternoon, however, his temper got the better of him.

"Why don't you have your console yet?" he barked. "The wealth of the universe is at our fingertips and my Assistant can't get what she needs."

"I'm sure they're working on it, sir," she said absently, still sifting through her data.

He frowned at her.

"And what's that you're humming?"

She looked up, startled.

"Was I humming?" She cocked her her head. "Oh, I suppose I was. Sorry, sir."

"No, no, the humming is fine." His brow furrowed, and he moderated his tone. "Please, don't stop. I was just curious what the tune was."

She flushed and gave him an embarrassed, crooked grin.

"It's a pop song by that new group, 'Intergalactic Love Rivals.' I listen to the audio cast in the mornings when I'm getting ready. I guess it got stuck in my head."

Grimthorn smiled for the first time all day.

"And here I thought it was going to be something deeply meaningful, like the lullaby your mother used to sing you."

She giggled.

"No, nothing like that. Actually, Kobolds don't have mothers like you Terrans."

"You don't have a mother?"

"Well, I mean, I had a birth mother. But she wasn't the only one who raised me. All the mothers that give birth go to the creche, and they all raise all the children."

Admiral Stonefist sat back.

"I don't understand. They only raise other children?"

"Not quite." She thought about it a minute before she responded. "It's more like... we're all in one big home, and if one of the children is hungry, they go to one of the suckle-mothers. If they want to sleep, they find a snuggle-mother. If they want a song, they find a song-mother."

"So each... mother has a job?"

"Oh, not like that. A suckle-mother can only feed children for so long, you know. But maybe she sings, too, or cleans. And a song-mother can bathe the children. And of course, every mother teaches and corrects the children. But some are better than others at some things. Especially the singing. We all use to love listening to Dame Haffa. She would sing the most beautiful lullabies."

Kinnit closed her eyes and began keening quietly, a haunting, wistful song, evoking wind through a lonely forest, or clouds hiding the moon on a wintry night. Kinnit lifted her head and pursed her lips, bobbing her head as the song rose and fell.

Admiral Stonefist sat transfixed, watching her.

She was suddenly conscious of his gaze, and her song faltered. She stuttered to a stop with an awkward laugh.

"Sorry," she said. "I should leave the singing to the likes of Dame Haffa."

"No, that was very..." Grimthorn struggled for a moment with the word. "It was very beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with me."

She colored and lowered her eyes.

"Of course."

"A village of mothers. Interesting. I suppose you must think our style of parenting very strange or strict."

"No, not at all," she said, her eyes lighting up. "I think it's very charming. Just having one mother, one father, and having all their love and attention for your whole life. It sounds wonderful."

Admiral Stonefist gave her a stiff smile.

"Well, yes, that's the ideal. Even if it doesn't always happen that way in practice."

"Oh, but how wonderful, the devotion and focus! We Kobolds don't really have relationships like that. Everything and everyone belong to everybody. Everywhere you go, everything you do, you are surrounded by piles of people. It's comforting, there is safety in numbers, and everybody knows everybody. But sometimes it can still be a little lonely, even in such a crowd." She sighed. "And the way that Terrans pick out one special person for their whole life is so romantic."

"Well, not everybody does that," he said gruffly.

"Mmmhm." She was staring dreamily off into space. Grimthorn cleared his throat and she started. "Sorry sir!" she said, and focused back on her work.

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

As data trickled in, they cross-referenced it against the remains of the fighters from Yellow Dog sector. Slowly but inexorably, a picture emerged.

Fighters were being manufactured, programmed and tested, then shipped out in batches. But the counts of ships between being shipped out and received often changed.

This was generally written off as a problem of numbering differences-- the Vylar depended on an octal numbering system (since they had only four fingers per hand), but most of the rest of the Imperium ran on decimal. So if they shipped out 12 fighters (in octal) that meant that the recipient should receive 10 fighters (in decimal). Or so went the thinking.

The data that emerged was painting a different picture. They were consuming enough resources per shipment to build 12 (decimal) fighters. They were burning enough fuel to ship 12 fighters. Their cargo ships had enough room to house 12 fighters. And only 10 fighters would arrive.

Admiral Stonefist's demeanor stiffened day by day as the picture became clearer. It was crystal clear that the Vylar were selling ships to the Oryndrax, and hiding the discrepancies in the disparate numbering systems.

He was determined to make an airtight case. And then make a bloody example of the Vylar.

Kinnit fretted as the data painted an increasingly damaging picture of the Vylar. And yet, some things were still not adding up.

"Sir, can we go over these financial figures?" she asked.

"Some other time," he said. "I'm working on something else at the moment."

She glanced over and could see him plotting fleet movements and logistics for an invasion. Tears pricked her eyes and her heart sank.

"Sir... you said you would wait..."

He started and looked at her guiltily.

"I'm just preparing for contingencies. And... " he sighed. "Kinnit, I know you want to believe the best of them, but the data is clear. They've been steadily sending ships to the Oryndrax. There's no doubt of it."

"But they've been cooperating with our investigation! Why would they cooperate if they were selling fighters to the Oryndrax? And look at these financials! If they're selling the extra fighters, where's the money?"

"Maybe they're just doing it to stick it to the Imperium. Who knows?"

"Please, sir." She looked at him with her huge round eyes rimmed with tears. "Give me one more day. One more day with the data."

He tried to stare her down, but had to look away.

"Why do you care so much about the Vylar anyway?" he groused.

"I don't. I care about you."

"Eh?"

"I mean, about what you're going to do. If you destroy this planet, and we discover that the Vylar were innocent... sir, that's not who Admiral Stonefist is. That's not who the hero of Arcturus is. He's honorable, brave, and just. You would not countenance anyone who would kill innocents-- please don't become someone who would kill innocents."

Grimthorn ground his teeth.

"Don't mention Arcturus to me. And don't put me on a pedestal. I'm just another man."

"Sir, you're a hero. A legend. You're my-- my inspiration for being here, in the Imperium. Please, one more day. Something's wrong here, I can feel it. Let me find out what's actually happened."

Grimthorn pulled in a heavy breath through his nose and refused to look at her.

"Very well. One day. But then I don't want to hear any more about it. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" she said, saluting smartly. Then she wheeled and dashed over to her data.