[geoschmo]

2417.1

The small ship exited the lights and colors of the wormhole and plunged into the inky darkness of the Osshod Nebulae. The pilot immediately changed course, circled around, cut power to the minimum and watched the stellar portal closely for any signs that he was followed. The radiation from the Nebulae made sensors inoperable and visual sighting impossible beyond a distance of 1500 kilometers. For ships travelling at near relativistic speeds, 1500 kilometers was less than nothing.

The thought of running into another ship in this soup briefly crossed his mind. Entire fleets of warships could pass through the same sector and even amongst each other’s formations and not even realize it. But the sheer size of space made the chance of that infinitesimal. That was something that spacers took for granted usually. But he was no spacer, so it bothered him regardless.

His sensors would not help him detect a ship if it were following him, and his eyes, even at this close range would not help if the ship were cloaked. But even a cloaked ship caused minute fluctuations in warp points as they passed through. It was those fluctuations that he was looking for now. Once reassured that there was no one behind him, he set his course for the coordinates he had been given. Somewhere in this nebula was another ship, one belonging to the Sergetti Empire. He was to rendezvous with it, meet with it's occupant, and enter into negotiations to sell his soul.

He thought back over the seventeen years since that awful day when his universe had turned upside down. He thought about the chain of events that had led him down this path to treason. In fact he had already been tried and convicted in abstentia for high crimes against the Sallegan Republic, but he rejected that.

Before this day if he had been guilty of anything he would accept only that he had put too much trust in incompetents. His incompetent advisors that had assured him the Xi'chung were not a threat. And his incompetent nephew who allowed himself to get killed by the first shot in the war. Their incompetence had cost him his position, and nearly cost him his life. It was only by sheer luck that he had escaped the obliteration of Capitol City as he had taken that precise moment to visit the Space Yard to personally berate the incompetent mangers in charge of construction.

In the chaos surrounding the bombardment anyone who knew his whereabouts on that day was killed. Fearing for his life he had taken to the caves along with hundreds of others in the outer province. Whether it was fear or shame that had prevented him from revealing his identity to his fellow survivors that terrible day he know longer knew, and he know longer cared. Whatever the cause it had been a wise decision. One that had saved his life. For upon his triumphant return that megalomaniac Grandow had issued orders for his arrest, not even knowing whether he was alive, and not even caring whether he was guilty.

The trial had been a swift one, as all kangaroo courts are he thought. He had watched it on the television from the safety and anonymity of a refugee camp. He had decided then that his days as Senator Dravis Flicken were over. With forged papers, he worked his way onto a colony ship and set out for the Usphada system.

Five years of manual labor producing minerals for the Republic had hardened his heart as much as his body. Another five of work more to his talents, advancing up the ranks of colony management had led to his present position as the real power behind the incompetent Governor Simpson of Usphada III. He could not risk taking the reins of power openly himself without being recognized. Before Simpson he had resigned himself to never achieving his revenge on Grandow and dying a lonely anonymous death on a backwater world of the Republic. But in this man he had found a true lump of clay that he could mold in his image. And through this man he would get that revenge.

But he had never allowed before allowed his anger for the Admiral to take him down the road he was now travelling. He had never lost his love for the Republic, or at least that is what he told himself. Even now as he waited for the ship containing the enemies of his beloved Republic, he believed that the ends justified the means.

He knew it was very likely that his plan would fail. And even if it succeeded he knew he would probably be viewed poorly by history. But he had to do something. He couldn't sit back and let that man destroy everything that thousands of years of Sallegan progress had built.

He reached the coordinates and waited…