The Rebel Faction

<B>Governor's Palace.

Toong I.</B>

The palace was a five-story tower of white marble on top of a low hill, with a view of the water. Ornate trim and carved scrollwork covering the building gave it the look of a cake decorated with white frosting. A portico supported by large columns marked the entrance.

As the military entourage pulled into the drive, battle-armored Dragons marched out to meet it. A red carpet was rolled out to the armored transport. Commander Aragon stepped out of the vehicle and observed his new place of operations. He was getting a good feeling about the location.

A Toong alien with a pointed nose and thin lips met his entourage at the door. He pressed his white-gloved fingertips together in front of him and bowed slightly at the waist. "Commander Sim Aragon, I am Pikard, servant of Prefect Sebhat. Let me welcome you to Toong I as our new governors. I can't tell you what an honor it is to have such a special guest in our palace."

"Has the Prefect made all the arrangements?"

"Indeed, my Lord, though it is quite an unusual request."

"I won't be taking all of it, of course. The rooms are on the top floors?"

"Yes, and of course the Prefect will meet you inside and show you the top floor. I hope it meets with your approval."

The servant led them to an ornate turbolift, which he operated with a key console attached to a datapad by his side. It whisked them to the top floor, and directly into the suite. Prefect Sebhat awaited them and bowed as Aragon stepped inside.

"Commander Aragon, once again a pleasure we meet. Please accept my apologies and my attitude on our last encounter."

Sim admired the furniture. The legs were all gracefully curved, and elaborate scrollwork was deeply carved into the wood. The upholstery was done in plush burgundy velour striped with silver thread. Rich tapestries woven with stylized scenes of various planets of the galaxy hung on the walls. Stone sculptures, woven in the same style as the tapestries, covered the stone floor.

It was a splendid space-- comfortable and impeccably decorated.

He turned to the Prefect. "Apology accepted, Sebhat. Just be happy that I continue to let you rule under our Imperium and not have you executed."

Sebhat nodded nervously. "Yes, of course. Toong will have loyalty for the Imperium always. I will see to it."

"Good. Some of my men should be waiting in your foyer by now. Please have your servant bring them up through the turbolifts."

"Certainly, Commander." The Prefect pointed to Pikard, and the servant raised his hand to his cheek, speaking briefly into the tiny comlink strapped to his wrist.

"Will there be anything else?" Sebhat inquired.

"This will be fine. I'll take it. I'll take it all. Now, is your office suite on this floor as well?"

The Prefect looked puzzled. "Yes, just down the hall."

"Good. I wish to look at it. Show me, please."

The Prefect stepped to an inlaid set of double doors and swung them open to the corridor outside. He hesitated and turned. "But, Commander Aragon, I assume you are staying?"

"Oh, not long, Sebhat. It is for my men who are coming here."

Just then, the turbolift at the end of the hall opened, and a full load of large, rough-looking death soldiers stepped out. An obsevant person might have recognized them from the Dragon Legion. They looked completely out of place in the elegant surroundings.

They marched up to Aragon. A bald man with a nose that appeared to have been repeatedly broken seemed to be the leader, a First Prime. He looked at the open doors. "Is this the place, Commander?"

Sim nodded. "Strip it-- carefully; I don't want anything broken or scratched-- and take it all back to Captain Adaala's ship, the <I>Erebus</i>."

The Prefect's eyes widened. "Strip it? I don't understand."

"I'm taking the suite, Sebhat, or rather, all its contents. The Imperium will pay for full replacement of course, plus a generous overhead, and we'll compensate you for loss of use while the room is being redecorated."

The Prefect's alien jaw hung open. "Redecorate. But-- This is impossible. These are all antiques, some dating back to the Old Republic."

"Which is exactly why I'm taking them. These aren't the sort of furnishings one purchases off a showroom floor on Coruscant. The quickest way to furnish a luxury quarters is to find a room that's already furnished, and remove its contents to the new location."

The Toong governor just couldn't seem to wrap his head around what Aragon was saying. "Move the suite?"

Two soldiers positioned themselves on either end of a couch, bent down, and lifted it onto their muscular shoulders. The Prefect watched in horror as they carried it down the hall to the waiting turbolift.

Sim waved his hand in front of the alien. "The office suite?"

"Yes," said the Prefect, seemingly grateful for some task he could relate to. "This way."

Three more death soldiers walked by, one with a luma lamp, one with a rolled-up tapestry over his shoulder, and a third carrying a statue wrapped in a blanket.

The Toong servant opened another set of doors as they passed through. "This is the office suite," Sebhat announced quietly. "Will you be stripping it, too?"

"I'll be staying here for a few days while Captain Adaala makes repairs on her Tion Star Destroyer above us. Then I will transfer for my voyage back to Argai. As for the other rooms, put my valet, and the rest of the Drhazi on this floor." He had a sudden inspiration. This was a fine opportunity to open celebration for their victory of Toong. "Oh, and the soldiers who are hauling this furniture, they'll need first-class rooms on the lower floors. There will be another forty-five or so coming from the <I>Deimos</i> as well. They should all have rooms. You will be taking care of their meals, bar tabs, and services. And of course the Imperium will pay for any damage."

Sebhat paled to a lighter shade of green. "<I>Damage</i>?"

The Commander ignored the question, turning to one of the First Primes stepping beside him. "Inform the <I>Deimos</i> and the <I>Erebus</i>. Tell Subcommander Sirtek and Captain Adaala that anyone who can get shore leave is welcome, including themselves."

"That won't happen for Captain Adaala, Commander. She loves that ship."

"I agree, but ask her anyway."

"Damage?" The Prefect worried over the word like a rancor with a bone.

The First Prime glanced at him and shrugged. "They're Dragons on leave. There <I>will</i> be damage."

The Toong nodded his head sadly. "Of course."

"I understand," said Aragon, "that you have a very fine chef."

The Prefect brightened a little. "He is, if I may say so Commander, exceptional. Chefs have come from throughout the Outer and Mid Rim to study his techniques."

"That's good," said Aragon, looking out through the suite doors as a massive dining table was carried past, "because I'll be taking him with me as well."

Sebhat's mouth hung open. He blinked. Blinked again. "But of course," said the Prefect, "but of course..."

The Captain looked at him blankly. "Punished?" He sighed. "Kix, you are a Dragon Commander. To be a competent AT-BT commander is one thing. To mistake your time in the cockpit for anything that will lead to your proper station in life is quite another. You're far too much in love with the glory of battle."

"I have always served you in battle, cousin. I carry the banner of the Black Dragon Empire proudly. I'm not afraid to fight along with our troops in the cause of our Taj Dameun."

Aragon placed the datapad on the desk. "I know you aren't afraid of battle, Kix. I know you'd lay down your life if it came to that. Which is why I am sending you on a mission more important to me than any battle. While I negotiate with Vaynai, you will be bringing the four planets of the Pakunni system into our fold: Pakunni, Toola, Cholganna and Quermia."

"The Pakunni system?" They aren't even in the path of the Cavrilhu's current retreat. Our best intelligence shows the system being bypassed."

"Then your job is to convince them otherwise. They've retained a substantial army. If they aren't being attacked, it's fresh and uncommitted-- just the sort of alliance we need right now. I am confident you can do that-- It may even be easier than you think."

Kix was skeptical, and deeply disappointed that he would be left out of the coming battle. Added to all his other negative emotions was another feeling of guilt-- that he was deserting their forces when they needed him most. Once again, Aragon was shuffling him to the side.

"With respect, Captain Aragon, it seems that if you had confidence in me, I'd be commanding our forces in this campaign."

The Captain scowled at him. "Be careful what you say, Kix. I haven't forgotten how you've disappointed me in the past. Recently I've given you opportunities to redeem yourself-- the latest on Gand and Toong I. Your performance there was acceptable, if not exemplary.

"But you are a Dragon. Acceptable is not enough. If this mission is a sacrifice for you, then sacrifices must be made. You say you aren't afraid to face danger and battle, yet you never know when those things will find you." He reached up and touched the bacta patch on his chest. "Dameo knows, I know that better than anyone.

"This is an opportunity to prove yourself to me, Kix, the greatest one yet, though you don't realize it. If you aren't up to it, then I won't force you. But if not, then I have no further use for you. In any capacity."

Kix blinked in surprise. His cousin sounded serious. Yet he couldn't just cave in. "Of course I'll do as ordered, but my objections stand." He paused a moment. "I appreciate the trust you're putting in me."

Sim didn't seem to notice. He'd picked up another datapad, and was studying a column of numbers. "Good. Send your shuttle back to the fleet with word you'll be joining me. At Chandaar we'll arrange transport for you to the Pakunni system."

Kix was puzzled by this pronouncement. The trip from Chandaar to Pakunni would simply take him back through the Tion Cluster. "Chandaar is in the wrong direction."

Captain Aragon gave him an annoyed glance. "There are things I need to take care of before we part company, and I don't want your trip attracting too much attention. Using a less direct route serves my needs. At any rate, by then, proper diplomatic credentials should be arranged. I'm having Captain Adaala send over a small contingent of officers and recruits to act as your aides, and have them sent over as well-- and of course you should have your personal items sent." He glanced at the chrono on his datapad. "You've got about three hours."

Kix stood, silently, trying to take it all in, trying to think of some way around his exile.

Sim gave him a look of annoyance. "That's all, Commander Davin."

Kix licked his lips, and left the room without another word. Had the stress of his experiences caused his cousin to become unhinged? He thought of his smug smile as he left his stateroom and fumed.

<I>This isn't over...</i>

Captain Aragon looked at himself in the mirror inside his personal quarters aboard Adaala's ship, the Erebus. His skin was regaining its normal tone, and the bruises were fading. His chest still ached constantly, despite the drugs, but the doctors and the consulting medical droids he'd brought aboard for consultation all told him that he was healing well and could expect a full recovery. The head-to-head conflict between his strike cruiser, the Deimos, and a pirate Carrack cruiser back on Toong I had almost costed him dearly, had not for the strategy imparted by his SubCommander.

All he needed was time and rest-- the two things that, despite his considerable fortune, he could not now afford. He resolved to push himself on, through force of will if necessary. Damn the medical consequences; he'd deal with them later.

He rubbed the whiskers on his chin. He was still toying with the idea of letting the beard grow, or at least of shaving it into a Vandyke. It would cover the jagged, still-red scar on his chin, and perhaps a few others, depending on how full he kept it. He tried to decide whether it would make him look distinguished, or merely sinister.

The intercom chimed inside his room. "Captain Aragon," said the Drhazi from outside. "The Blade, Zem Renneyn, to see you."

He quickly allowed her access. He was eager to hear her news, of course, but he was also glad to again have the Blade's services. He was feeling well enough to move around the ship, and being properly groomed and dressed would make him feel human again. He had to prepare himself. The day was quickly approaching when he would have to make public appearances again, no matter how he was feeling.

Zem stepped through the door and pulled back the hood to her black cowl. She smiled at him as she entered. "You're looking stronger, Captain Aragon."

He grinned weakly. "You lie," he said, "but you lie well."

His quip seemed to bother her. "It is what the Imperium allows me to do, I suppose."

"You're back far sooner than I expected." He'd used the Imperium's considerable resources to expedite her return trip, even holding the Akorec for her at Pakunni.

"I made excellent connections outside the Pakunni system, and as it happened, an outbound Nebulon-B frigate was waiting at the rendezvous point as I arrived. In fact, it's likely the ship they'll use for our assignment. I was able to negotiate the deal with the Cavrilhu's mercenaries at the rendezvous point, without actually traveling to the planet."

He studied her face and frowned slightly. Zem was normally upbeat when a mission was successful. She seemed somehow disturbed-- not like someone celebrating a difficult job well done. "No trouble, I take it?"

"No, Captain. I successfully negotiated a hit-and-run suprise air attack on the capital city of Pakunni. The arrangements and timing are as we'd planned, and it was only necessary to give them the smaller two of the three numbered accounts you provided to me. I believe they'll actually try billing the Cavrilhu for the attack as well."

Aragon laughed. "It's even possible they'll collect. There's something to be said for hiring your enemy's mercenaries. You're sure they don't know who is hiring them?"

"I gave them the distinct impression I represented the Mistryl Shadow Guards who wish to bring the Pakunni system into their sphere of influence, via the Cavrilhu. I implied an early attack might lead them to capitulate with their production infrastructure undamaged.

"They'll arrive at a point within the system in fifteen days. The Nebulon will immediately deploy toward the planet. Once in a close orbit, several wings of fighters will stage a lightning raid on the capital city, targeting primarily monuments, government buildings, and infrastructure: power, communications, water, sewer-- creating as much public disruption as possible. Then they'll rejoin their frigate and be out of the system before Pakunni has a chance to react, and they'll be sure the Pakunni people know who is attacking them. The leadership there will have no reason to suppose it's anything more than an advance attack by the retreating Cavrilhu."

He smiled at her. "Well done, Zem. Once again you've proven what an asset you are to the Imperium, and how clever Sully Anre was to rescue you from Saheelindeel."

She looked away, frowning.

"Is there something you aren't telling me?"

She hesitated before speaking. "I encountered Commander Davin in the hangar bay as I was arriving. I didn't know if I should be providing him details on the timing of the attack on Pakunni. He'll need to make provisions for his own safety."

Aragon stared at the wall for a moment. "You didn't tell him anything, did you?"

"Tell him, Captain? I told him I'd made the arrangements for his trip. Nothing more. The meeting was far too public to talk about such an important matter freely."

He was relieved. He hadn't expected her to return before Kix left, and therefore hadn't briefed her on the possibility. It was the sort of mistake he didn't intend to repeat. "Good; I was worried for a moment."

She blinked rapidly, unconsciously bobbing her head. "Captain, if you don't mind my asking-- Commander Davin does know about the attack, doesn't he?"

Sim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "In order for this ruse to work, Kix must be as genuinely surprised by the attack as anyone."

"Captain Aragon, the danger--"

"Kix is a big boy, Zem, capable of taking care of himself. This is no different than any other battle I've sent him into, and I've sent him into plenty."

"With respect, Captain, the people shooting at him in those battles weren't serving the Black Dragon Empire."

"You've never questioned my activities before as a Blade of the Dragon."

"I've never had cause to." She immediately seemed to regret her words. "Apologies, Captain. That was inappropriate. I'm merely concerned for his safety."

"He's a Dragon and a Death Commando, Zem. You should know, better than most anyone, that we're born survivors, hard to kill. Davin will be fine."

She still looked very unhappy. "If you don't mind, Captain, it's been a very long and tiring trip. I'd like to rest up for a few hours before returning back to Argai and reporting in."

He nodded. "Of course. Take as much time as you'd like. I'm sure Captain Adaala won't mind another guest aboard her ship. For now, I'd like to work on getting back to my regular routines before being commissioned to my new ship. We're about to jump again into the Cluster to Chandaar. I will have SubCommander Sirtek arrange your trip back to Argai via the Deimos at our rendezvous above Chandaar."

"As you wish, Captain Aragon. I'll take my leave."

Sim watched her exit. She had doubts, but she'd come around. He was doing the right thing, the only right thing. This was the only way to bring the entire Pakunni system into the outpost coalition of the Black Dragon Empire.

In time, even Kix Davin would tell her that...

<B>Capital City of Pakunni

Pakunni System.

Two days later.</B>

Pakunni was a world rich in natural resources: those of material value, such as Bactade and ore, but also those of the spirit-- or so the locals chimed. Commander Kix Davin had to admit it was a beautiful world, relatively unspoiled by the last major war between the Vong, the Galactic Empire, and the New Republic.

The forests were vast and spectacular, the mountains high and jagged. Much of the northern continent was a frozen tundra-- harsh, vast and savage in its beauty. The southern continent was covered with flat plains drained by wide, meandering rivers, its rich black soil dotted with farms that fed the world.

Though tibanna gas mining and mineral extraction were a large part of the economy, careful application of advanced mining techinques had minimized the impact on the enviroment. Likewise, the people of Pakunni were caretakers of their forests, harvesting selectively, and in a strict rotation that kept their ecologies wild and diverse.

Like all worlds in the Outer Rim, it carried some scars from past wars, but it was perhaps as idyllic and unspoiled a world as Kix had ever seen.

He was enjoying it not a bit.

The Pakunni prided themselves on "government by consensus." At first glance, the structure was similar to dozens of others, a system Governor, a military Legate, and four Prefects who represented each planet: Pakunni, Toola, Cholganna, and Quermia. As with many systems, the Governor and the Legate shared great authority over the rest of the government, and could likely have entered into the Imperium's outpost coalition without any further approval-- if both had wished to.

But only Governor Rivkin seemed at all interested. Legate Tarr felt the current retreat would bypass them, and that-- given their historic ties with the Cavrilhu pirates-- a nonaggression pact was both possible and the best course of action. On other systems or sectors, this might have resulted in a power struggle between these two dominant figures.

Not in the Pakunni system.

Instead, the stalemate caused the issue to be passed down to the Prefects. There it was debated for two days, then voted into yet another deadlock: The Pakunni supported and signed with the Imperium's coalition, Toola opposed it, Cholganna and Quermia stalemated to an undecided result.

The situation seemed hopeless.

The system Governor told Commander Davin that he needed a hired agent called a facilitator. The Governor recommended an old family friend, and off Davin went.

The facilitator's office was located in a low durocrete building just outside the city's Central Park-- an easy walk from any of the governmental houses, and a short ride by metrobus from the Capitol itself. The building was quite old, and was neither run down nor meticulously restored. The wooden banisters on its stairways showed the wear of years of use, and the gray durocrete cracked in places that had not been repaired.

But the dark blue carpets were new, deep, and plush, and the potted plants that seemed to be everywhere-- a signature of Pakunni decorum, Kix had noticed-- were green and well cared for. He found the name, <I>Ozak Kin'son, Facilitator</I>, on a directory. To his surprise there were no guards in the lobby. A turbolift took him to the third floor.

He found the name repeated in gold-leaf letters on a heavy wooden door. He pinged the doorbell and was invited inside. There was no lobby, no receptionist. Just a large desk stacked with flimsiplasts and datapads, where a slim Bothan with tan fur typed on a computer with machinelike speed. The desk was surrounded by packed bookcases that ran from floor to ceiling-- stacked not just with holobooks, but with more flimsies, recording rods, and enough awards and souvenirs to stock a junk store.

<img src="http://home.earthlink.net/~zolanhunter/images/Tarsk6.jpg" align=left>
The Bothan continued typing for several minutes, during which time Kix supposed he must have typed the equivalent of several pages. He then slammed down on a key triumphantly with his right index finger, and looked up at Kix. "Commander Davin." He stood rippling his fur, and extended his hand. "I was told by Majori-- the Governor-- to expect you. Please have a seat."

There were a couple of wooden armchairs in front of the desk, upholstered in a rich fabric printed with burgundy and cream-colored stripes. Though none were visible, the room smelled strongly of Neka nuts and something like spiced namana fruit. Kix was reminded of a candy store, and suspected a hidden cache of snack foods somewhere in the desk's many drawers.

The Bothan ran his fingers through his thick fur. "Where shall we begin?"

"I suppose I should tell you about the Black Dragon Empire's proposed outpost coalition."

"Oh, I know about your coalition and your proposed agreement. I think most everyone in the capital does. That isn't your problem."

"You're a facilitator. Is that like a lawyer?"

"Not at all. Lawyers deal with existing law. Facilitators deal in the creation and modification of law." He grinned. "Think of us as midwives."

"A treaty being just another flavor of law in your mind?"

Kin'son smiled. "Exactly. I'm here to advise you, help you through the process of understanding how we do things."

"Do facilitators, like lawyers, have a rule of client confidentiality under systematic law?"

"Oh, absolutely!" the Bothan exclaimed, widening his eyes.

"Good, then let's just make this brief. Who do I have to bribe?"

Kin'son blinked. "What?"

"Who do I have to bribe to make this happen? I'm authorized to be quite generous, if necessary. There are also other intangibles I can offer. Preferential contracts with the many Tion Cluster coorperations: Tion Industries, Tion Drive Yards, ID Tech, for instance."

Kin'son shook his furry head sadly and rippled his fur to one direction. "Commander Davin, that is <I>not</I> how we do things here. It's strictly forbidden for any of our officials to take bribes. There's a death penalty on the books, and it <I>has</i> been enforced in the last decade."

"Death penalty? For the official or the person making the bribe?"

"Both," Kin'son said dryly. "I wouldn't advise trying it. You'll frighten away far more support than you'll attract, and while getting caught might only get <I>you</I> deported, rather than executed, I wouldn't count on it."

"So what do we do?"

"I'll approach certain members of government with close ties to the Legate. I'll let them suggest various changes and alternate wordings of the proposal. We'll rewrite it in those terms, and you can take it back to the Governor and the Legate."

"And if the Legate still doesn't like it, or the Governor doesn't like the new version?"

"If there's a split opinion, then it goes back through the Prefects for another vote."

"I can't just rewrite it and take it back to the Governor and Legate directly?"

"Again, Commander, that isn't how things are done. If they then took action on the proposal, it would offend most of the Prefects and cause them no end of political difficulty. If a proposal doesn't create immediate consensus between them, then it <I>must</i> go through the Prefects."

"And if they're split again?"

Ozak shrugged. "We repeat the process..."

Kix exited the building to find his hired airspeeder waiting for him. It was a beautiful day, and the park spread before him-- a vista of rolling green lawns, playfully arranged hedges and shimmering ponds.

He could see the towers of his hotel on the far side.

He leaned inside the comforts of the airspeeder just long enough to tell the droid driver he'd be walking back to the hotel. The sun was warm on his face, and the beds of purple and yellow flowers were sweetly fragrant. He took off his black uniform jacket, hung it from his index finger, and tossed it over his shoulder.

The brick-paved street was closed to most vehicular air traffic. Only metrobuses, speeders, and a few droid platforms with special VIP permits were allowed, and therefore he crossed freely in mid-block. A low stone wall surrounded the park; Kix headed for the nearest gate, a few dozen meters to the south.

He heard the sound of high heels clicking on the brick behind him, heard their rhythm shift from a fast walk to a run. Something about the urgency in those footsteps gave him pause. He was already about to turn when a voice called his name.

"Commander Kix Davin?"

He turned and looked down into perhaps the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen. The woman standing there was tall, graceful, and athletic, yet softly round in the right places. Her long skirt was slit high up one side to display a tantalizing flash of leg, and her wraparound top was simple and elegant, fastened with a large silver pin.

She was tanned, a few freckles displayed unashamedly on her cheeks; her nose was small and upturned, her lips full, glossy, and the color of pink balka petals. Her hair was long and chestnut-colored, held back with a blue headband. When she smiled, as she was doing now, her eyes sparkled, and as she came close to him, he smelled cloudberry and caffa.

In spite of his natural suspicion, he found himself smiling at her, and admiring the way the sunlight glinted off her hair. "Excuse me, have we met?"

"Not really, Commander, though I've seen you before. At the Governor's Palace a few days ago." She put out her hand and he took it. Her fingers were long and soft against his battle-roughened skin. "My name is Alsa-- Alsa Vinda-- no relation to Seth Vinda or Vinda Corp. I was having lunch with one of the senior staff, and I saw you going into a meeting. As I recall, you looked unhappy."

"That could describe most every meeting I've had here. I wish I'd noticed you. I'm almost certain it would have made my disposition a little brighter."

She beamed, and he found himself enjoying it. A lot.

"You flatter me, Commander. Though I did find myself wondering why such a handsome man wasted himself on unhappiness, and what I could do to change that."

She was laying it on pretty thick, and Kix was buying none of it. A man in his position attracted a certain type of power-hungry female, gold-diggers seeking some advantage. He usually sent them packing immediately-- and even when he didn't, he'd quickly catch them making eyes at other higher officers in the Imperium.

He sensed this woman was <I>not</i> one of those, despite her obvious attempts at manipulation. A politico of some kind? A reporter? Some sort of financial player seeking a hook into the Black Dragon Empire's coorperations? Well, whatever she was, he found her exceedingly pleasant, and a game of cat and mouse could be just the sort of distraction he needed to keep this planet from driving him mad. <I>Besides,</i> he thought with a smile, <I>in a game of cat and mouse, sometimes you get the cheese.</i>.

"You know my name."

She laughed, and it was like the ringing of tiny bells. "I'm a frequent visitor to the mansion, and everyone there knows you by now. Everyone talks about your proposed accord with the Pakunni system and the Black Dragon Empire. Not all positively, I'm afraid."

"What about you? What's your opinion on the matter?"

She looked apologetic. "You were walking somewhere. I interrupted you. I'm very sorry."

"To my hotel, the Capitol Towers." He gestured.

"I know where it is. Do you mind if I walk with you? I love the park this time of year."

<I>A likely story</i>. "I'd be honored," he said.

They struck out along a curving slidewalk that snaked among the low hills. It wound halfway around the shore of a pond, whose waters were navigated by native waterfowl and droid caretakers overseeing them.

The hotel, which had seemed very far just a few minutes before, now looked altogether too close, and he tried to slow his pace. "You were going to tell me how you felt about my accord?"

She laughed again, and it made him feel warm all over. "Actually, Commander, I don't have one. I'm very apolitical, and not even local. I'm an art dealer, and my parents run an interplanetary mining conglomerate in the Corperate Sector. It's just that somehow I've fallen in with a political crowd here."

<I>No one just falls in with a political crowd.</I>

She continued. "Even if I don't care much for the politics themselves, I find the people fascinating."

"I imagine they find you fascinating as well." <I>I can lay it on thick, too</I>.

She blushed slightly and averted her eyes. "My social calendar is often very full, I'll admit."

"Then I imagine you'll be at Prefect Prescott's party tonight." He grinned. "<I>Please</I> tell me you'll be at the party tonight." Somehow he didn't doubt for a moment that she would be.

"I think I have an invitation somewhere. But to be honest, the Prefect's parties are a crashing bore."

He groaned theatrically. "You've just delivered a death sentence. I'm told it's a political necessity that I attend, and I was grasping at straws."

She looked up at him and grinned. It made her lower lip pucker in a most appealing way. "You know, Commander, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that one's enjoyment of an event depends almost entirely on the company one keeps."

"Am I being too hopeful, or was that an invitation to make an invitation?"

"It might have been."

"Then please, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to tonight's boring party?"

"I'll allow you to escort me," she said, "but it won't be boring..."