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of war is even
greater than I have imagined .
    “Kalila Akira is a liar and a criminal,”
continued Caerwyn. “She has invented this pretense of danger, of
Rotham invasion, in order to spread fear mongering throughout our
systems, to rally support to her personal vendetta against the duly
elected Assembly and against me, the Steward of the Empire, your
protector . If she truly believed there were an imminent Rotham
threat, she would race to Capital World, submit to the Assembly,
and relinquish control of all of her forces so our great Imperial
Fleet might be whole once more. But she does not do that. Instead,
she hides on her ship like the coward that she is, and thinks to
call a false Assembly—”
    “Shut off that drivel,” said Raidan. “I’ve
heard enough.”
    Immediately, the screens on the Harbinger ’s bridge went dark, or else switched back to their
normal operations. He didn’t have to ask to know the propaganda was
being sent Empire-wide, from both parties, and he expected to hear
a lot more of the same in the foreseeable future. Though, even now,
he’d had more than his stomach could take.
    Politics . Propaganda . It was
enough to make him sick. He left the Bridge and welcomed the
seclusion of his office. He locked the door, took off his jacket,
and then went instinctively for the bottle of whiskey he kept on
the desk. As usual, he opened the bottle and took a long stiff
drink, not bothering to decant the whiskey because, after a good
aging in a wooden barrel, what purpose could possibly be
served?
    After downing the equivalent of two shots, he
set the bottle down, pleased by the burn, and wiped his mouth.
Normally, he was the type to pour bottle to glass, but today just
was one of those days when he had no time for glasses…
    Tristan, I’d better hear from you soon,
and with good news. We need that deterrent now more than
ever .
     
    ***
     
    “And just a few more seconds,” said Calvin to
the overly crowded bridge of the Wanderer, which was really
more like a cockpit. He sat in the pilot’s chair, having chosen to
take a shift of his own.
    When they’d first arrived in Republic space,
Calvin had been keen on having Alex at the helm, ready to respond
to the bombardment of instructions and hails he expected their ship
to receive. But instead, they were only given routine instructions
regarding a necessary course correction, due to a minor anomaly,
and were sent on their way. It turned out they weren’t the only
tiny trading vessel making the rounds. While passing one
interstellar hub, Calvin caught sight of hundreds, if not
thousands, of other small trading ships. All Rotham, and no one the
wiser. Their camouflage couldn’t have been more perfect. This had
inspired extra confidence in Calvin, and so he relieved Alex of his
duties once his shift was up, but wanting the Rotham to stay
nearby. Now they’d strayed just far enough off their designated
path that they were technically in military space. Once the vessel
reached the coordinates that Calvin and Alex had predetermined to
be their best observational vantage point, without making their
presence too obvious, Calvin brought the ship to a full stop.
    “And if you’ll look out your windows, ladies
and gentlemen, we have arrived,” said Calvin, climbing out of the
pilot’s chair, making the congested Bridge feel even more
claustrophobia-inducing.
    “Don’t you mean lizards and
gentlemen,” said Miles, looking unapologetically at Alex.
    “Very droll, human,” said Alex. His tone was
unpleasant, but he didn’t seem as annoyed or offended as he usually
would have been by one of Miles’s insults. For that matter, Alex
seemed to be in genuinely better spirits ever since they’d crossed
into Republic space. Calvin could understand, on any assignment
which took him away from the Empire for any length of time, he was
always happy to be back, even if only for a short visit.
    “Okay, Miles, just be cool,” said Calvin. “We
all have a mission