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Alrighty, so I started to write the next chapter in this series and it sort of became two...and then three...and maybe four. I'm still working on writing out the whole scene I came up with. So, I'll be posting them as soon as they are done here. In any case, I hope you enjoy it.

As always, comments are appreciated and requested.

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Continued from 'New Twists...'

11-15-3015

Time Index; 2056 hours GST

TFV prototype Zephyr

Asgard system, Terran space

Lieutenant Colonel Prydwen stood on the lower deck of the Zephyr's drop bay, his hands behind his back. The Celdanian officer rubbed his eyes with one hand, wishing his head would stop throbbing. The secrecy that being a part of this conspiracy required had forced him to spend most of the last few days wearing a DFVI visor, working with what little data he had managed to extract from the relay device. He had worked on the encrypted files until he had gone cross-eyed, and he hadn't made any progress. Of course, it wasn't like he had expected anything. Every technical officer was required to learn the basic techniques of cryptology, but unlike any other technical specialty, it wasn't one that people could choose. Instead, it was said that it was the other way around, that cryptology chose the specialist.

About a thousand years ago, every method of encryption was mathematically based, and since computers were far and away faster than humans, computer based decryption software rendered cryptology specialists essentially moot for about a century or so. But when the advent of quantum computing technology made the original encryption technology worthless, the industry had to come up with new tricks, new methods of encrypting data, creating quantum cyphers, then programs that rotated rapidly through several cyphers. Of course, programmers then started devoting their time to breaking those new techniques. Finally, when crystalline based computer technology was created, the cycle had been broken. Now, the way crystalline circuitry worked, it allowed for dimensional encoding, which even the most advanced super computers couldn't break. It took imagination and creativity to break that kind of encryption, which meant there was a knack to code breaking, and very few people had it. And worse, the talent defied all techniques to predict or to copy it. Even psychic abilities didn't seem to help much, with the vast majority of psychics just as clueless as non-psychics. And Pride didn't have the knack.

Looking up, the Celdanian shielded his eyes as the long range shuttle's thrusters stopped its forward momentum, kicking up a blast of hot air across the hanger deck. The small courier ship was clearly of military design despite its lack of visible weapons, but it had no markings, much like a civilian ship would have. Which, to any experienced soldier, meant only one thing. It could only have belonged to Intelligence, a fact which sent a chill through most military officers. The quick beat of armored boots on the hard deck behind him made the Colonel smile. When he had told the General's adjutant that he had managed an actual live holographic conversation with his contact in Intelligence, and that his contact would be arriving at the shipyard in a couple of days, the Major had been surprised, wanting to send a message to General Cramer immediately, but, since the General had told them he would be visiting with Admiral Tack for some time and was not to be disturbed, Dillinger hadn't been able to argue about the wisdom of having a stranger involved in their work.

"Major." Pride greeted, looking the other officer up and down with amusement as he came to a stop beside him. Major Dillinger was wearing full combat armor, and had his assault rifle slung across his chest, ready to be used, not to mention his sidearm clipped to his hip, both weapons loaded. "I didn't realize meetings with Intelligence officers required full combat gear."

"You know very well why I am armed." The Major replied testily, glaring at the Colonel from beneath the transparent faceplate of his armor, the lights of the heads-up display reflecting in his eyes. "Until the General can vet your friend, we can't take the risk of letting him run around unwatched. And since we don't have enough people to spare to watch him, I'll do it myself." The Celdanian officer rolled his eyes and shook his head as the shuttle touched down. Even though they were allies and members of the conspiracy against the Conclave, the pair seemed to have very different attitudes about it. Pride trusted his instincts, and was almost at ease with being a part of a conspiracy, lessons he had learned in his time in black ops, but Dillinger, who had no such experience with these conditions, seemed to be getting more and more irritable as the days went on.

"You really must learn to relax Dillinger." The red haired officer commented, watching as the ship's hatch unsealed itself. "You are doing yourself no favors by being so highly strung."

The major scowled, seeming like he was about to reply, but he held his tongue when the hatch slid to the side, revealing a man wearing a slate grey half dress uniform with the all-seeing eye of Military Intelligence on its lapels. But, aside from the golden badges, the uniform had no insignia, no ribbons or medals, not even rank insignia or a name plate. But, the odd uniform was only half as interesting as the man wearing it. He looked like he might once have been of latin descent, his tan skin and dark hair pointing in that direction, but he must have suffered some sort of grievous injury, for his right arm looked like it had come from some sort of robotic mockery of a human. The limb was a metal skeleton coated in a thin layer of ghostly white, translucent, and obviously synthetic muscle and skin, a network of circuits that pulsed with multicolored light tracing cybernetic pathways beneath it. When the man stepped out from the hatch and into the shadow of the courier's wing, his right eye, which was a most unnatural shade of green, actually glowed from within, revealing that it was artificial as well, a network of fine scars surrounding it, micro circuits showing through the skin like a spiderweb.

"Pride, my old friend!" the man called, smiling broadly as he walked over to the two officers, revealing that he also possessed a pronounced limp, though he didn't seem to need a cane or other support. "How are you?"

"Living the dream, Angel." Pride replied, then gestured to the other officer beside him. "Major Paul Dillinger, this is Captain Gabriel Santaro."

"Please, everyone calls me Angel." The grey clad officer replied pleasantly, holding out his cybernetic limb. Dillinger took it hesitantly, shaking the strange construction gingerly, as if afraid he would break it, though the return grip was strong. "You'll pardon my mechanical pieces. I had a rather violent disagreement with a Merxian plasma charge during a field assignment a while back. I'm afraid I learned the lesson about double checking for booby traps a little too late."

"I...I don't even know how to respond to that." Dillinger replied, looking confused.

"Most don't." Angel laughed, clapping the Major on the shoulder with his human hand. "Now then, why don't you tell me the reason I am here?"

"I have some encrypted data that I need decoded, and quickly." Pride replied, turning and leading the way back into the guts of the ship. "Since you are the best person I know at that..."

"Oh?" Angel said, picking up his pace a little, his expression becoming almost eager. "What kind of encryption are they using?"

"Well, it's a multilayered dimensional encryption, but other than that, I can't really tell you much more. I'm not the specialist you are." Pride said and the Intel officer chuckled, sounding joyful.

"How many layers?" When Pride held up four fingers, Angel grinned broadly. "Oh come on," the injured officer said, sounding like he was disappointed, stepping through the door into the lift ahead of the other two officers and they exchanged a glance that was full of amazed doubt. "I thought you would have something hard for me."

"What are you talking about?" Dillinger asked as the lift doors shut behind them, "I don't think there is a harder type of encryption to break."

"Well, for you maybe." Angel replied, grinning at the Major, the scars on the right side of his face making his lip twist strangely, giving him the look of a mad scientist from the old movies. "I deal with encryption techniques that are still supposed to be only theoretical on a daily basis. Anything in standard use is cake by comparison."

"You're insane." Dillinger replied after an incredulous pause. "Out of your mind."

"Well, we all have our talents." Angel replied as Pride told the lift where to go, the lift car speeding off as he continued. "Mine just happen to lie in getting computers to release their secrets." Dillinger and Pride exchanged a glance behind the back of the cyborg.

"You even sound excited." Pride commented. "I would have thought you would have been disappointed by my request. And what are you doing out and about on a courier ship anyway? I thought you spent most of your time at some Intel station or another."

"Oh, I do." Angel replied, allowing the Celdanian officer to lead the way out of the lift in the direction of the technical workshop. "One of the hassles of being the best code breaker in the Federation actually. It gets tiresome to be locked away in a computer center all the damned time. I take every opportunity I can get to get out. So when a request crossed my desk to send someone out to crack a Merxian database in some newly taken base, I decided that I was the best one in my department for the job. The courier is Intel's idea of a low profile."

"Yeah I remember some of their other so-called logical decisions." Pride replied, and Dillinger shook his head as the pair entered the technical workshop, the cyborg ignoring the strange looks of the technicians as he passed.

"Of course, being in charge does have certain advantages." The intel officer said, settling in behind a computer terminal in the back of the room, the same place where Pride had been sitting since he started working on the device. "Namely, I decide when I can take leave. I have a couple of months saved up and this is as good a chance as any to use it."

"This is how you spend your leave time?" Dillinger asked, surprised when one of Angel's cybernetic fingers seemed to split open, revealing a bundle of fiber-optic leads that extended out from his hand and connected to the computer, his artificial eye giving a bright flash as the systems connected.

"Sure." Angel replied, smiling, his gaze getting sort of distant. "I always do this sort of thing in my spare time." Pride grinned as well, handing him the small data storage cubes that he had taken from the relay device. The half-mechanical officer connected one of the cubes to the computer and continued, sounding distracted. "My parents gave me an antique rubix cube when I was three. Took me all of about an hour to solve. I've loved puzzles ever since, the more complicated, the better."

"So...how long do you think it will take to solve this...puzzle?" The Major asked, letting his rifle hang at his side on its sling. The cyborg was silent for a little while, his eyes giving little twitches back and forth as he worked.

"Well, well," He said, his cybernetic fingers flicking in the air as if he was typing on a computer, though the back of his hand was flat to the top of the terminal. "This is more complicated than I thought. It's not a regular dimensional encoding matrix; it's something far more complex. The appearance is just a smoke screen. This is going to take me a while." The cyborg even sounded excited at the prospect. Angel's wrist gave a twist and his eyes opened a little wider. "Wow, what a mess. It's a series of dimensional helices, all intertwined and jumbled together like a knot. Whoever set this up was very clever."

"But you can do it, right?" Pride asked and the cyborg's gaze lost his distance, his grin growing wider as he looked up. "I mean, its solvable."

"They haven't invented an encryption I couldn't break." He replied, his fingers still twitching away. "And Lord knows, they've tried. All it takes is time."

"Well, keep me informed." Pride said, turning and walking out of the workshop, clearly unconcerned, leaving the Major behind.

Taking a seat in a spare chair behind the cyborg, Dillinger watched as the odd man settled back into his seat, his eyes closing, his mechanical fingers flicking faster, his wrist giving a twist every now and then as if turning a shape around in his grasp. Like any soldier assigned to the Special Operations Division, Dillinger had developed an inherent distrust of Intel officers early on in his career. The Federation's Military Intelligence Bureau was a fully autonomous service, made up of handpicked officers and technical specialists from both the Navy and Marine Corps. With the sole exception of a small cadre of field operatives, the Intel service tapped the SOD for all of their operations, operations that were inherently even more dangerous than their normal duties. Most admitted that the distrust between the services was entirely justified, since Intel had a reputation of being almost callous with Marine lives; as long as their mission was a success they didn't seem to care much for casualties. And yet, this Intel officer seemed to have a wholly different outlook on things. It was just something in his attitude that was disarming. Maybe it was just a factor of him originally being a Marine, but he seemed the likeable sort, a genuine affability, rather than the oily, false attitude that the other Intel officers he had worked with seemed to possess. Shaking his head, Dillinger settled back and watched the cyborg work...

***

11-16-3015

Time Index; 0236 hours GST

MAS Adaron

Enroute to Sython system, Merxian space

Tyr stood on his transport's bridge, the view screen displaying only the darkness of faster than light travel, the lights of the consoles and terminals throwing strange colors over the unadorned walls. The coyote officer had been studiously avoiding the gaze of the chiropteran who commanded the Adaron, and the other officer in turn seemed to be glaring at him every time he looked towards the center of the bridge, so he kept his gaze forward. It was nerve wracking, and his hackles had been standing on end for the last hour despite his best efforts to relax, the tension in the room nearly palpable. Finally, the ship's navigation computer chirped, and the fox lieutenant attending that station called back over his shoulder from the readout.

"Reverting to sub-light in fifteen seconds." He said and Tyr breathed a heavy sigh of relief. After a few moments, the view screen flared with sudden streams of light that reverted quickly to pinpricks as the transport reverted back to the normal phase of the universe. Moments later, the screen spun around, revealing a world of a few medium-sized green land masses, surrounded by blue oceans that were tinged ever so slightly violet. Sython was a beautiful world, one of the few in the Alliance that had required no modification for colonization, more than eighty percent of the land subtropical in climate. As a result, even though the colony there was only seven hundred years old, its level of development was already approaching that of Merxia itself. The planet was renowned for its natural vistas, which the colonists had left mostly untouched, despite all the development.

"Standard orbit, helm." Commander Raiselle ordered, the sharp tone of his voice setting Tyr's teeth on edge. "Sensors, full scan." Both of the officers acknowledged the orders and Tyr watched as the planet grew to cover more than half of the view screen, the ship pulling smoothly into geosynchronous orbit over the largest settlement, joining a few other large ships, mostly the huge, ubiquitous interstellar freighters and a single, beautifully shaped luxury liner, looking like a huge sting ray floating through space.

"Standard orbit sir." The Helmsman called out and the Commander nodded.

"Anything to report, Sensors?" The bat asked and the officer took a moment to reply.

"Mostly regular traffic sir, but..." He started to say, leaning in close to his display. "I am not sure what to make of this."

"Put it up on the main viewer." The bat ordered and the display instantly shifted from the view of the planet to a view of a pair of odd looking ships floating in high orbit. "Tactical overlay." On his command, the view sharpened, the outlines of the vessels showing up in a bright green, each outline divided into grids and sections with thinner lines as the ship's computer applied targeting programs to them, identifying possible target locations for the weapon emplacements based on the known specs for the ship class.

"Looks like an old cruiser and a frigate." Tyr remarked, cocking his head in confusion.

"Good eye, Colonel." The chiropteran commander stated, his voice holding a hint of sarcasm within it. "The cruiser looks like a Sorgat class light cruiser. The smaller one is harder to identify, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's a Juran class patrol frigate."

"A Juran?!" Tyr repeated, surprised. "Those things are antiques. Weren't they retired about sixty years ago, something about a structural weakness?"

"Yes they were," The commander replied, then typed a command into the keypad attached to his armrest. The view immediately zoomed in on the side of the cruiser where a large insignia had been painted and Tyr knew instantly what they represented and why the old ships were in orbit here as opposed to having been recycled into scrap. A sneer filled with contempt crossed the bat's face and he nodded, as if a suspicion had been confirmed. "Mercenaries."

"Black Claws." Tyr spat as the computer outlined the insignia, sharing the commander's disgust. "They aren't soldiers, they're pirates. I hate those bastards."

"And in time of war, we are all one big happy family." Raiselle added, his fingers tapping thoughtfully at his armrest.

Both the Terran Federation and the Merxian Alliance had groups in their space that would fight wars for the right price. And while it was true that there were some, like the Federation's Crimson Knights and the Order of Steel within the Alliance, that were professional, reliable and utterly loyal, most of the groups had a less than stellar reputation. Some of the groups were little better than thugs, guns for hire that were just as likely to fight for the other side as their own people, and would happily switch sides mid-fight if offered more money. The Black Claws were officially somewhere in the middle, in so much as they were more likely to fight for the Alliance than the Federation, but unofficially, they only hired out to fight wars when they grew bored of what they usually did.

There had been numerous occasions over the years where the Claws had been caught raiding shipping lines and outlying colonies, taking valuables and cargo for themselves. Sometimes they seemed to do it just for fun, taking nothing, only destroying and terrorizing instead. When they were captured by the authorities, the Black Claw Securities Group always claimed that the ships and raiders were merely pirates masquerading as their employees, but no one really believed that, all evidence to the contrary. Unfortunately, they also had a reputation as being brutal and vicious fighters, that rarely failed in a task, and since they maintained a sizeable array of capital ships and enough ground troops to flesh out a couple of divisions by themselves, the Alliance tolerated their behavior in exchange for them adding muscle to fights where their own troops were unavailable, or outmatched in some critical area.

"What the hell are they doing here?" Tyr asked and the naval officer shook his head, though the question was undoubtedly rhetorical.

"I don't know." The bat replied, returning the viewer to its original setting. "It's not our problem. Communications, contact the spaceport's tower and let them know we are going to be shuttling personnel down to the surface for leave."

"Aye sir." The comms. officer replied, and Tyr shook his head, turning to walk from the bridge. Even as he entered the lift that would take him down to the drop bay, he reached up a gloved hand to smooth down the fur on the back of his neck, trying to shake the strange feeling he had gotten when he saw the two warships. He didn't know why, but he got the feeling that they were very much their problem, no matter what it seemed...

***

11-16-3015

Time Index; 0736 hours GST

Tare Pharmaceuticals Research Campus

Sython system, Merxian space

Tyr stared out of the back of the glass lift that was taking him up to the top floor of the administration tower, taking care to keep his hands behind his back, his stance even, keeping his fatigues from rustling, trying his best not to betray his nervousness, just in case the lift had a camera in it. As he got higher and higher up the tower and his view widened, he had to admit, Tare Pharmaceuticals certainly had an impressive facility. The company had established its headquarters on Sython only about a hundred years after the colony had been established, and the long centuries had afforded the corporation plenty of time to expand. The research campus may have started with a couple of laboratories with built in offices in a remote part of the settlement, but it had now grown so large that it took up dozens of square kilometers, with more than a hundred buildings sprawling across the property. The campus even had its own dedicated space port. But, despite how much communications had to go through the facility every day, when Tyr had contacted the company and identified himself, he had been put through to the CEO's office immediately without being asked the purpose of his call. The CEO, one Arn Soran then invited him to come down to the campus for a meeting that afternoon, which had given Tyr just enough time to make arrangements for the visit.

When his dropship had landed at the campus' space port, he had been met by a pretty coyote girl who could not have been more than twenty years old, driving a company hover car. Tyr had then been treated to an impromptu tour of the whole campus in the luxury car. The young guide had explained that she was one of the CEO's aides, and she had been directed to give him anything he required before his meeting. All through the tour, the young woman had been perfectly friendly, and though he couldn't quite decide whether it was his imagination or not, she seemed just a little bit too friendly, as had the young lady manning the front desk of the administration building. Though the Ranger officer hadn't seen anything in particular that he could point to for its source, something had been bothering him since he had stepped off the drop ship, an overall feeling of wrongness.

"What's the situation in there, Colonel?" Major Larn asked, the giant of a wolf's deep voice echoing in his ear, stemming from the miniaturized comm. gear that all Special Forces officers had implanted just behind their jaw, its pickups connecting to the jaw bone itself, so all one had to do was sub-vocalize words to be heard.

"Everything looks normal, but something... something's wrong here." Tyr murmured, the implant picking up his voice as clearly as if he had spoken loudly. "I can't figure out what. Maybe I'm just getting jumpy."

"You? Never." Larn replied, "Which is exactly why we are here."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence Larn." Tyr grumbled, shaking his head as the lift slowed to a stop. Fixing a pleasant expression on his face, the officer turned around and walked out of the lift, finding himself in a luxurious waiting area, a young male tiger in a nice suit sitting at a desk on the far side of the room. Covering his voice with a slight cough, the coyote officer continued quietly. "Did you get that information I asked for?"

"The Black Claw ships are registered as the Sable Lance and the Nightstar." Larn continued, Tyr dividing his attention between his XO and the receptionist, who was saying something about the CEO and a Holo-conference. "Yeah, I know, great names. The transponder codes pinged as the Koralin and the Caswak, both were decommissioned and then bought by the Black Claw Securities Group who rearmed and reequipped them. According to the Interstellar traffic database, they have been jumping in and out of the system for about six months. There is no record of a contract or outpost in system, so it appears that they are just using Sython as a port of call."

"Something doesn't fit. Black Claw ships aren't hired in pairs, much less the same pair over and over again. Its always single ships or squadrons." Tyr whispered, taking a seat in a comfortable chair across from the office door. "Keep digging will you? This meeting shouldn't take too long."

While Tyr was sitting there looking around, he noted a pair of security cameras in the ceiling that were just a little bit too obvious, which likely meant that there were more security systems that weren't so obvious hidden about the place. Also, he noted two silhouettes behind the frosted glass panel that the receptionist's desk was sitting in front of. They were both rather bulky, more so than could be explained by simple physical bulk, which, to a Special Forces operator, screamed combat gear, and probably armor. On the one hand, it made sense that the CEO's office would have its own special security detail, after all, multi-trillion credit industries could be rather cut throat, but on the other, having people equipped like soldiers seemed a bit like overkill...

"Colonel?" The receptionist called and Tyr looked up, surprised out of his reverie. The tiger was standing before him and Tyr looked him up and down curiously. "Dr. Soran will see you now."

"Thank you." Tyr replied, standing up and walking towards the office. As the soldier passed by the receptionist, he noticed something odd. The tiger was in good shape, more physically fit than most civilian workers, but he looked and sounded like a civilian. Something in his stance however, the way he constantly shifted his weight into a stable orientation, indicated that he had had combat training of some sort. Which meant that he likely served as one more piece of security. There was probably a weapon hidden somewhere under his desk, which was itself probably reinforced to serve as a makeshift barricade. Shaking off his concerns about the huge amount of security as he stepped through the door, Tyr found a middle aged leopard standing behind a desk with a holo-placard marking him as Dr. Arn Soran, the in-use light on the headset he was wearing blinking off when Tyr came around the corner into the office.

"Colonel, I must say I was surprised to get your call." Arn said, holding out a hand for Tyr to shake. "We don't usually have dealings with the Alliance Military, but I am always ready to help the government. So, what assistance can I provide to the Military Police today?"

"Well, Dr. Soran, I was assigned to a special task force investigating the black market's sources within the Alliance." Tyr said, spinning the cover story that Torsek and he had come up with to explain his checking into the company. Most civilians, as a rule, were at the very least awed by the Special Forces, and at worst, terrified by them. On the other hand, the MPs were usually perceived as being noble and trustworthy, and much less frightening, perceived more like cops than soldiers. "A little less than a week ago, a black market shipment was seized by my task force. Now, a single shipment is nothing to write home about, but this one contained something unique. Part of the shipment was a case of RD-86A."

"You can't be serious." Soran replied, his voice sounding surprised, but not quite shocked, as someone in the business would be if such a highly dangerous chemical had been found in circulation. "Who in the galaxy would be foolish enough to do that?" After a brief pause that was just long enough, the CEO continued. "Surely you don't think that I..?"

"Oh, of course not." Tyr assured him, waving off his concern and shaking his head vigorously. "No, I'm here meeting with you because you are the head of one of the largest and oldest pharmaceutical companies in the Alliance. It was my hope that you could help us source who produced the chemical. As you know, the military doesn't tend to focus our expertise on such specialized work."

"Well, that is different." Soran replied, smiling in a way that made Tyr uncomfortable. It was precisely the sort of smile you would expect to see on the face of a predator that had just found the trail of an injured animal. The leopard settled back in his chair and stroked his chin. "What you are asking for is theoretically possible. The manufacture of every artificial chemical is usually a long process, especially when one has to work from scratch, unless of course you are using quantum construction techniques, but those are usually cost prohibitive. Every company has its own style, its own preferred reactions, its own base molecules. If you have a sample of the case you found, I may be able to track it through those."

"Well unfortunately, the case was destroyed; the chemical being so dangerous, we had no choice." At this, the CEO nodded, a bare hint of triumph in his gaze. "But we did scan one vial to ensure that it was what it appeared to be. I could transmit the results of the scan to you though. But if I may ask, what exactly would that tell you? I mean, forgive my ignorance, but isn't the finished molecule a set composition? What would be left to identify?"

"A cogent question Colonel." Soran stated, seeming surprised. "While it is true that the end product is a consistent composition, in order to track the status during production, all of the large corporations mark their base molecules. It is the markers that are distinctive. For example, my company uses deuterated carbon groups in production. Despite the very best precautions, the final product will always contain some of the markers, and in small batch production, which would be necessary to produce such an illegal chemical, it's even harder to remove the markers. I would be happy to examine the scan data, and see what turns up in that regard."

"Well then, I will get out of your fur and head back to my ship." Tyr said, rising to his feet. "And I'll send you the scan as soon as I get there."

"Good, good. I'll see to its analysis as soon as I can." The CEO replied, standing up as well. "You'll excuse me if I don't walk you out, Colonel. I'm rather busy today. I'll make sure the car is ready for you when you reach the lobby."

"Of course." Tyr said, turning and walking to the door. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Certainly Colonel. Always ready to help." Soran said, smiling at his back. Tyr walked straight to the lift and stepped inside, waiting for the door to close before speaking again.

"Slick bastard is a good actor, but I'd bet my pension he knew about it, if not flat out ordered it to be produced." Tyr murmured, keeping his expression neutral. "Meet me at the space port, and bring our little surprise with you."

"Yes sir." the huge wolf replied.

***

"Certainly Colonel. Always ready to help." Arn said, smiling as the soldier walked out. As soon as the office door closed behind him, the CEO's smile faded into a frown and he pushed a button under the desk, even as he reached for his intercom. "Ms. Ardet, please have the car waiting for the Colonel."

"Yes sir." His coyote assistant's voice said. Then, the CEO looked up expectantly as the wall panel beside his desk opened, revealing a muscular lynx dressed in all black combat gear.

"Well, commander?" Arn asked, waiting as the man turned the pad he carried so its picture could be seen by the CEO.

"His name is Colonel Tyr Asanderin," He said, reading off the pad. "He commands the Turlion Ranger battalion and if he was assigned to an investigation then I'm a kitten."

"Mhmm." Arn replied coldly, "Contact your ships. Tell them to take out his transport. Now. And make sure that Ranger doesn't make orbit."

"You realize what you are asking me to do?" The Black Claw officer asked, crossing his arms over his chest, arching one eyebrow. "Taking out local police and chasing off your competitors is one thing. But you are asking me to effectively declare war on the Alliance Military. We aren't equipped for that. Hell, no one is."

"Black Claw Securities has dealt with bigger incidents than this one." The CEO replied dismissively, waving off his concerns. "Do as I say and by the time the military figures out what happened, your company will have denied that it was their employees who did it. Do your job and get rid of them, Commander. It's what the Conclave pays you for."