"Ten Hutt!" The sergeant snapped to his feet as Sana Boro marched down the center aisle. Sure she was a Corsec Lieutenant, but this was no ordinary mission for Special Ops.

She walked past the fifteen men and women to the podium. She inserted the data chip. And the outpost they would be operating on came up on the hologram. "Corellian outpost fifteen. Four transits away from home. We will be interdicting the ship Black Talon, Mik Daron commanding."

"About time."

Her eyes moved over to Sergeant Cole of the second squad. "About time for what?"

"That traitor should have died for Whereagon."

"You misapprehend our mission. We are to contact Captain Daron, and offer him and his crew a full pardon for all actions against Corellia in return for an important mission."

What idiot came up with that?"

"The president." She cocked her head. "Now will you sit down, shut up, and allow me, only a mere lieutenant, to continue the mission brief?" Cole, who had stood defiantly sat grumbling. "Good." She pointed at the holo.

"One man will be here with both a sniper rifle and an anti-air missile launcher." She touched the control tower for the five docking bays. "He will on my orders, or if it falls to adverse negotiations, disable the Black Talon, then eliminate any of the crew who return fire. First squad, you will be on the berm, and move to positions to fire into the landing bay at need. Second squad, you will be in the outpost in these buildings." She highlighted three buildings. "If you are on the upper floors, you can fire down into the docking bay from your positions."

She shut down the holo projector. "Let us all be clear on this. Unless I order it, none of you are to fire at all, even if the Black Talon departs. Is that understood?"

"So one of them sees us and starts blasting, and we just stand there like idiots and let them kill us?" Cole's voice was acidic enough to etch battle steel.

"Of course not. If you are fired upon, you may return fire. But I warn you now, the first thing we will do is link into all of the sensors of the docking control and inventory system. So I will know after the fact who fired the first shot. If I find that any of you opened fire without a direct threat, I will tie him or her to the hull without a suit for our return home. Is that quite clear?"

There was grumbling, but they nodded. "Suit up, and board ship. We leave in fifteen." She walked down the silent aisle.

II

Outpost fifteen was just a moon with a marginal atmosphere orbiting a totally worthless planet. Not many people lived there, the last census listed less than two hundred full time inhabitants, and most of them were service personnel for the ships that went to and from the Corellian system itself. Sana and her team had arrived the day before Captain Daron's ship, and they had occupied transient quarters near their positions except for herself and the man assigned to be the sniper/air gunner. While seemingly calm and collected, she was worried about what would happen when she confronted Daron. It had been two years since his trial and imprisonment. She had not been surprised at all by his escape; the man she knew never stayed anywhere he didn't want to be or felt unwelcome. In fact that escape was now used as a training scenario for the Prison he had escaped from. An as yet unbeaten scenario.

"Contact." Jak Willan reported. The laconic sniper didn't have to point, she could see clearly through the spotter's scope. There he was, Mik Daron, with a woman hanging on his arm. She watched sourly as they went into a cantina.

"All right." She replied coolly, then tapped her earbud. "Stations." She ordered. There were only two sets of clicks, one from each of her sergeants. "Take your position, Willan." Then she stood away from the window. She walked out, and down to the turbolift. As the door closed, she found her fingers running through her hair. She stopped herself, grumbling. Why did she care what she looked like for him?

The street was not that busy; second shift was at work, first was already home or drinking. The sun was behind the planet, giving the entire moon a twilight gloaming. She came to the cantina, pausing for a moment, then entered.

Compared to outside, the interior was as bright as day. Not many customers, but it was early yet. Mik was sitting at a table where he could watch the door, but wasn't. He was instead cuddling with the woman with him. She sighed, walking across the room. She was halfway there before he even noticed her. He leaned back, the woman flowing against him like a well worn piece of clothing, and her eyes marked Sana as well.

She finally stood before the table, but Mik still hadn't said anything. He and the woman merely watched her, the woman with a catlike intensity. After a long moment, Sana couldn't take it any more. "Mik-"

"That's Captain Duron to you, lieutenant." He cut her off, but it was merely a correction, like telling any junior to use his rank rather than a more familiar greeting.

She nodded, acknowledging the hit. "May I have a word with you?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "Talk is cheap."

Her eyes cut to the woman. "In private?"

"Ah, a secret talk." He sounded amused. "Zakal, Gee."

The woman stood languidly, walking around the table, then stopped close enough to whisper. "Hurt him again Osik, and I make sure you take a week to die." Then continued on her sinuous walk out of the room.

Sana watched her walk past, then looked to Mik. "I remember when you were more discerning in your bedmates."

"There was such a time." He agreed. "But that was before the love of my life first let Corsec arrest me, then didn't even bother to show up until my sentencing." Mik merely looked at her.

She pulled out the chair opposite him, sitting. "I was arrested at the same time you were, and spent four days being interrogated by intelligence in hopes I could help them prove you guilty. I spent two and a half weeks finding out what the hell was going on, and when I arrived saw you dragged out already condemned."

"And what did you do with all of that data?" He asked lightly.

"I gave it to my father."

He smiled, and for the first time, she saw approval. "Good for you. How is the old man?"

"He died almost two years ago."

He sighed.

"He always wanted to apologize for his assumption-"

"He did." At her confused look, he added, "He came to see me a week after I began to serve my sentence." He smiled. "Of course I understood why he said it. It was a given that some slum kid of Cornet dating his daughter meant I was hoping for a safe staff position instead of a real field position. Everyone knows that."

They both pictured that scene; the slum kid talking to the father of the woman he loved, scion of a military family, and the resultant argument. Mik had stormed out promising never to return. But Sana had not only pursued, but drawn him into her bed.

"How is he?"

"He died. About a week after you saw him last."

Mik's gentle smile vanished. "Who was last with him?"

"Connor Latiforns, Aide to General-"

"I know the whelp's patron." He snapped. Then he sighed, leaning back. "Cut to the chase, Sana. Why did you come here."

"I was sent by the president. There is a mission that needs your skills." At his curious expression, she went on. "You have a small team of highly trained personnel. One of the best slicers in the galaxy, and arguably the best demolitions man in the business-"

"Woman." He cut in. "You met her a few moments ago. Go on."

"No one is better equipped on short notice to carry the mission out."

The smile was back, but it was neither gentle, nor happy. "Oh really. And who, by chance sent you?"

"I was assigned by the President himself."

"Excuse me if I don't fall down and worship at the mention of the office. What is the payoff for this mission?"

"Full pardon for your entire crew."

He smiled, shaking his head. "Not interested in just walking back into a cell, thank you."

"Mik, he's given his word of honor-" She stopped at the cold snarl.

"I wouldn't believe him if he said the sun is going to come up tomorrow." He cocked his head. "We'll do it, on a few conditions."

She felt her heart lift. "Go ahead."

"First, half a million credits tax free." He saw the sad look in her eyes, and waited for a long moment. "That money to be paid immediately to the families of my team who died on my last mission." Now she looked puzzled. "Remember? They claim it was an unsanctioned mission. Illegal. So they don't have to pay death benefits or pensions. Gunny Riis already had twenty-five years in, but his widow and children haven't seen a pence of it. I should know; I still have friends back home.

"Second, that pardon is to be for all crimes against Corellian interests ever committed before this date. Your Intelligence doesn't even know about the really juicy ones yet, and I don't want to deal with hunter-killer teams because of it. Are we agreed so far?"

She nodded her head slowly. "I can report those conditions, and don't see a reason why they should be rejected."

"Wait, there's more." He took out a slim pocket-pad, and slid it over. "I want these men bound with space line on the landing stage when I arrive. I intend to attach a tow cable and drag them into space with me when I leave."

She reached across, pulling it to her, then brought up the screen. "The commander of Special operations his deputy and their aides, the Commander of third army group, the General of the armies in command when you were tried, and his aide, Connor Latiforns, the Minister of Defense, and... the President?" She looked at him in horror. "Are you insane?"

"I remember from my middle school civics class, and from my time in the Academy. A senior officer is responsible for his subordinates. If your subordinate commits a crime, you deal with it in house. That responsibility goes right up the chain of command to the President's office." He leaned forward. "So when you have been accused of an illegal action, one that had been sanctioned until you returned home, and you are charged with a crime for it, who is responsible?

"I went where we were sent, on orders. I led my men into a mincing machine to complete my mission and three quarters of them died in that abattoir. We were home barely long enough to mourn before the 'court of inquiry' decided we had acted without orders. It usually takes a week to ten days to empanel such a court and make a determination. They took less than thirty-six hours.

"It usually takes the same amount of time to empanel a court martial board, and anywhere from three weeks to three months to hear all relevant testimony before rendering a verdict. It took them less than a day to empanel that court, and thanks to the expedient of denying every defense motion, and refusing to call any defense witnesses, they finished the entire court martial from opening bell to sentencing in the two and a half weeks you were looking for clues little miss detective."

"What do you mean, refusing to call defense witnesses?"

"Under military law, if a senior officer is believed to have given a specific order, you can have him called to testify. My orders came from the deputy commander Special operations through his aide. That little whelp said he was there with the butt he always kissed when the Commander Special Ops received the order From Commander 3rd Army. So my counsel called them all. The court determined that they would not allow me to waste their valuable time trying to create a farrago of lies."

He gave her a savage grin. "Of course that has been tried before, but it stopped when they began using the Verifier. All you have to do is ask a few simple questions, 'do you know anything of relevance to the case we are hearing? Have you issued any orders that have a bearing on this case?' They answer those no, and the Verifier tells you they are the truth, you are done. But what if the says they are lying? Then suddenly I am an observer and it's their fat asses in the dock.

"So to keep themselves on the cocktails and canapes circuit, they convinced the court to violate military law and refuse to call those witnesses."

But your appeal! You escaped before the process even started!"

"Are you really naive enough to believe they'd let me live long enough to see my appeal? First my counsel was killed in a vehicular accident, meaning they have to assign another one. Then your father arrives to see me, and warns the guards and warden that he will be taking a special interest in my welfare. Then his aide came to visit. Not me, but Simo Trega, my premier slicer. Of course by then your father was already dead, and so were Conor Pills and Sento Maxin. The other two survivors of my team. I knew they were dead because while I was in solitary confinement, they brought them in and beat them to death in front of me, then told me that Trega and I were next, and no one was left to complain."

He looked at his watch. "Time to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"To my ship." He stood, gesturing. "Will you accompany me for old time sake?"

She stood, and they walked together. She wanted to take his arm like old times, to walk like a couple, instead of a pair of strangers. "Please, Mik, this will give you a chance to start over."

"I have started over. Thanks to your father's last gift, we escaped from that hell hole, and I found people to work with. I did it by burning all my bridges and leaving 'home' behind me. I don't have to go back to Corellia to have a life, I am living one right now."

"So what do I tell the President?"

"I've told you what to tell him. If this mission is so vital, he will give me everything I want first. Or he can pound sand."

She sighed, and touched her communicator.

"I wouldn't." He said. She looked up, and he was watching. They had reached docking bay four where Black Talon rested. "At least until you see what's behind the blast doors." He hit the button to open them. Down the zig zag entryway that would channel and weaken any explosion in the bay, then she stared at the ship. It was an older CEC Model 91, a flat disk with a drooping cockpit thrust from her nose. On either side of the hull she had heavy Mk 19 pulse cannon aimed forward, and what were obviously anti-fighter guns above and below. A redheaded Echani woman was in the pilot's seat, and waved, then gave Mik a thumbs up. He returned it, then jerked his head to the side.

Directly in the focus of the portside cannon, her entire team stood close together. No, they were tied in what a slum kid would call a Corellian Necklace; hands tied wrist to wrist in the small of their back, then their elbows bound tightly to the people on either side. Unless they coordinated their movements, there was no way to run, and as the womans she had already met demonstrated, it made prisoner control easier. She was standing to the side, a feral grin on her face. She walked down the line of sullen men and women, then suddenly the short staff in her hand snapped to full extension, and she clipped one of them behind the knees, making him drop. The others were dragged down as well when he did, so there were now fifteen people kneeling and glaring at Mik.

"That was... Unkind, Zakal."

"So punish me for it later." She walked around the line, handing him a pad. For a moment, he looked at it. "The ugly one had this in his pocket."

"You have to be more specific, Zakal."

"The big ugly one." She motioned toward Cole.

"You must have told them you would check the sensor net in case there was a firefight." He commented.

"Why?" He handed her the pad. Cole had sliced the sensors, and there was a red dot inside the berm.

He tapped the pad. "If you had checked, this would have told you that one of my crew fired outward when big and ugly started shooting."

A man came down the ship's ramp. He threw his hair out of his eyes as he trotted over. "Last load's aboard." He smiled and nodded. "Miss Sana."

"Long time no see, Trega."

"Now that old home week is over, we had best be on our way." Mik cut into the pleasantries. "Where are their weapons?"

"In the space crate." Zakal pointed. "We didn't lock it, but it's sealed rather tightly."

"So you can cut them loose once we're lifting." Mik commented, pulling a folding knife from his pocket handing it to Sana. "But have a care."

"But sir, the anti air missile launcher is still mounted in position, and it was set for-" Trega began.

"I am sure you corrected that problem, didn't you?"

"Well of course but I should warn-"

"Enough. Board." He took Sana's hand, and gently kissed it. Until we meet again." He motioned, and Zakal grinned running aboard, followed at a more sedate pace by her captain.

Sana sighed, then walked over to her team. She started on the end, and began cutting them free. In the middle, Cole was struggling with his bindings, cursing, and demanding that the lieutenant get a move on. "Stop you're whining, Sergeant. We don't have anything that will even dent their hull in that crate." The ship began to purr as her engines came up, then lifted sedately. As she finished cutting Cole free the man ran across the bay, and opened the crate by the simple expedient of lifting it and smashing it into the ceramacrete blast wall. Then he began pawing frantically through what was released.

"Ma'am," Willan said as she reached him. "Sergeant Cole had me rig the anti-air missile on a crew mount with an auto target auto fire sequence, then had me paint their hull to get a target read." At the horror on her face he added. "All he needs is my pad to blow her to hell."

"Cole!" She screamed. The man gave a triumphant cry, spun looking up, and hit the send key. She looked upward, expecting to see the man she still loved killed before her eyes as she heard the thud of the gas launching charge, then the scream of the tiny engine. But the explosion came not from above them where Black Talon had gone to hover. Instead it came from her left about three hundred meter.

She watched the debris lift from the missile strike, then several secondary explosions. The entire team stared that way. Now she understood why Mik had been so busy shushing Trega. The man had a wicked sense of humor, and he would have thought it funny to set another target...

"Isn't that-" Sergeant DeFrees began.

"Our ship? Oh my yes it is." She watched as Black Talon lifted away and shot upward. "Sergeant, disarm and arrest Sergeant Cole."

"On what charge? Cole screamed.

She turned, and the larger man backed away from her cold look. "We start with attempting to circumvent my orders. Then for destruction of government property in excess of 35,000 credits. You're just lucky I'm not strapping you to the hull for the return home, because obviously," she waved toward the fires in docking bay 16 where her ship had been, "we have no hull to strap you to.

"Carry out my orders."