Colonel Adrian Tyree of Bravo Squad had no trouble at all figuring out where the Sith would be. Knowing the last known locations of the Sigma, Delta and Gamma squad, he simply figured out the closest route from there to the bridge, figured out which bar was in the area, and waited nearby.

These Sith were so predictable.

He knew that sooner or later, one of them would come and check out the bar closest to the bridge for a quick drink. All he had to do was keep the bar doors open, wait quietly, and let the spider catch himself a couple of flies…

And he certainly caught some flies. Bar flies, that is.

These Sith were just so damn predictable.

That was why he waited for them to all enter the bar before hurling his grenade through. He knew once that lot was in a bar, they would be totally distracted. Lob a grenade in and let that take out a couple of unsuspecting troops. Then in the chaotic aftermath, lead the team in and take out anyone left alive. Simple, easy and effective. This would be a piece of cake.

That was when the grenade rolled back through the door.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The grenade exploded seconds after Skate Force-threw out it back through the door, sending two bodies flying. Skate hoped to get over the bar and ignite her lightsaber before the assaulting troops rebounded, but before she could, two troops took up positions near the door and opened fire. Despite briefly having their shorts pulled over their heads, it was clear that their assailants were well-trained soldiers. They had quickly regained their composure and now blaster bolts were filling the bar.

And not just filling it…destroying it.

It was like a scene out of a horror flick. All the carnage…all the destruction…all the wasted booze. It was horrible.

But from her position, she couldn’t exactly do anything about it. She was currently crouched behind the bar as blaster fire tore apart her beautiful bar. Off to the sides, she saw Red Fangs taking up defensive positions and returning fire. She didn’t know if they were hitting anyone.

It didn’t matter, though. Skate was sick and tired of it all. Sick and tired of the whole day. First the situation with her fighter…then the power outage…being stuck with Sky…the ambush…and now these assclowns were destroying her bar. She hoped the Fangs hadn’t taken anyone out yet. She wanted them all to herself.

She was so about to kick their asses.

Skate reached to her right, grabbed a bottle of Whyren’s and took a swig.

In just another minute…

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Tyros hadn’t said a word since the conversation about family. It was pretty obvious to Seven that Tyros harbored some pretty bad memories of his childhood to have reacted the way he did to the topic. Seven didn’t want to think what kind of experiences he had gone through that were terrible enough to mentally scar an Imperial Guardsman.

Although in some ways, Seven could understand how growing up without a father may have been an advantage. His own father, a senator back on Bakura, was never a kind man. He wasn’t a violent man, just strict and stern. Too much so. His stern attitude, Imperialistic to the core, was one of the reasons that Seven had stolen a hyperspace-capable fighter and made a bee line to the Corporate Sector four years ago. He had wanted no more to do with his father.

Although, he did miss the rest of his family. Mostly his older brother, Harles, and his younger brother, Colton, with whom he was closest with. He missed his mother Illiana, but that was sort of a mixed bag. She was a very kind woman, but she had always been weak. When his father would start to yell, she had never found the courage to stand up to him, even though Seven had seen in her eyes that she wanted to. She had always wanted to protect her sons…but she never did. Seven still loved her, but he couldn’t deny that he harbored some ill feelings about those incidents.

But even after all of that, Seven still believed strongly that a child…especially his…needed its father around. Even more so since he planned to be the absolute opposite of his own father.

But what about Tyros? Seven used to think that nothing could faze the former Guardsman, but as they made their way down the darkened corridors, closing in on the bridge, it was clear that something was wrong with Tyros. Seven was going to apologize to Tyros for upsetting him, but thought better of it. Maybe it would just be better to follow Tyros in silence and just let the subject drop for now. If Tyros didn’t want to talk, then he wasn’t going to talk. It would just be best to--

When they reached a corner -- one that Seven recognized as being very close to the bridge -- Tyros held up a hand, stopping Seven dead in his tracks. Tyros cautiously peeked his head around the corner. After a couple of tense seconds waiting, Tyros motioned for Seven to join him at the corner.

“What is it?” Seven whispered.

“Two guards outside the bridge,” Tyros reported.

Seven let out a small laugh. “That shouldn‘t be a problem for you,” he said. “Should I even bother to come along for these two, or do you want to do it yourself? Maybe this time you can fight them with your hands tied behind your back and blindfolded. Maybe that will level the field for them.”

Tyros shot him a smirk. “Funny. We’re going to have to play this one a bit differently, though.”

“Why?”

“Well, my guess is that neither of those guys are going to be able to open the blast doors to the bridge. The doors are probably only controllable from the bridge.”

“I could always Force-persuade them to call and have the doors opened,” Seven offered.

Tyros winced a bit, clearly not happy with that plan. “Yeeeah…it’s not that I don’t trust your ability to successfully do that, Seven, but…”

“But…?”

There was a brief, awkward silence that seemed to have lasted a year.

“Okay, fine, I don’t trust your ability to successfully do that,” Tyros finally spat out. “Nothing against you, but I know Zhukov, and he’ll have trained his men to resist that kind of Force persuasion. Maybe you could do it, maybe not. I don’t like going into situations like this with ‘maybes’ hanging over my head.”

Seven nodded. “I understand.”

“Besides…I have a better idea.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Lieutenant Markov stood valiantly in front of the blast doors that led to the bridge, his eyes open and scanning the area. He was not a happy man. He was ready for action. He wanted some action. He wanted to fight. Instead…he was guarding an entrance.

Granted, it was an important entrance…but it was a joining of two large slabs of durasteel, nonetheless.

The rest of the teams were out fighting. That was where he wanted to be. There were troops on board this ship to fight…and Sith, no doubt. He wanted to get himself a piece of that action. He wanted to be out there with his fellow soldiers, hunting down the Sith dogs that infested this ship. He wondered, not for the first time, how his comrades were faring against their adversaries.

He saw movement.

Off to his right, coming around the corner.

Kozlov, the other man guarding the blast doors, saw it, too.

They both quickly took up firing positions, pointing their weapons at the newcomers who were casually strolling around the corner.

One of them Markov instantly recognized from the mission briefing as a Sith. Seven, his name was. By all accounts, a bumbling buffoon and a disgrace to the name of Sith and pilots alike. The other man…had not been a part of the briefing. That didn’t surprise Markov, though. They couldn’t profile every single person on board the SSD. They could only hit the important ones during the briefing. If this guy wasn’t included, he mustn’t have been very important.

Markov didn’t want to waste time. Finally, enemies! Some people to kill! And one of them was a Sith, even if he was one of the lesser ones. But before either he or Kozlov could open fire, the two enemies did something unexpected.

They tossed down their weapons and raised their hands in the air.

“Hey,” the unimportant, unnamed one said. “We surrender.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Sir, we have two prisoners,” Lieutenant Markov said over the comlink, surprising General Zhukov.

Prisoners? They were guarding the door that was no less than ten meters away from where Zhukov was standing. He hadn’t heard any noises that would’ve indicated there had been some kind of fight outside. How had they captured prisoners? Immediately, Zhukov was on guard.

“How did you capture them?”

“They came around the corner and surrendered, sir.”

“Have you identified them?” he asked.

“One of them, yes sir.” Markov responded. “It’s one of the Sith…Seven. The other I do not recognize. He was not a part of the mission briefing. Shall we bring them inside?”

Zhukov pondered the situation.

Something was not right here. Something did not add up. Why would a Sith just surrender? He had read profiles on all of them, and none of them were the type who would simply surrender.

And Seven?

No, he had fought with Seven before, during their ill-fated Sith Squadron holoshow mission. His men had chased and executed several well-planned ambushes on Seven…none had worked. None had been successful in capturing or killing the young Sith. And in all of those ambushes, Seven had never surrendered.

So why would he surrender now?

Simple answer. He wasn‘t.

He has a plan. He wants access to the bridge. He thinks if he surrenders he will be taken to the bridge, where he will escape and then somehow kill the entire force occupying the bridge and restore control of the SSD to Sith Squadron. A bold plan, to be certain. No, too bold.

He had read Seven’s profile. He had seen him react to pressure. This kind of brazen plan was not from Seven’s mind. This came from the mind of another. His cohort, then. The other prisoner. He had thought of this plan. Who was he, though? Anyone this bold should have been mentioned in the briefing. Xavier had given them full profiles on everyone he had thought would be a threat to Zhukov and his team. If the person outside of the bridge with Seven was not a Sith, then who was he?

“Sir?” Markov asked.

No. No, he couldn’t take the chance and compromise the bridge like that. Whoever the man was, to have created a plan like that showed a level of confidence that quite frankly made Zhukov a tad nervous. And Seven was still a capable fighter. He couldn’t allow those two to enter the bridge. It would be easier just to have them executed.

“Lieutenant M--”

“Is there a problem, General?” he suddenly heard behind him.

Zhukov turned sharply to find Xavier standing behind him, a smug look on his youthful face. Damn Sith! Sneaking up on him like that. What Zhukov wouldn’t give for a chance to wipe that look off of Xavier’s face.

“Sir?” Markov asked again.

“Hold, Lieutenant,” Zhukov said into his comlink. To Xavier, he said, “No problem at all, Lord Xavier. Our sentries outside captured two prisoners. I was about to order them executed.”

“Without my authorization?” Xavier grumbled.

“They are simply prisoners,” Zhukov responded, trying his best to be diplomatic. “I saw no need to trouble or burden you with such a small matter. I thought it would be best to deal with the matter myself and let you deal with more important things.”

Xavier’s eyes widened in anger.

“I will decide what is important and not important around here,” Xavier said back sharply. “Things of such nature are not for someone as low as you to decide.”

Zhukov was fuming inside. How he mustered the self-control to resist the urge to shoot the arrogant little bastard, he didn’t know.

“Who are the prisoners?” Xavier asked.

He isn’t going to like this…

“One of them is an unnamed soldier,” Zhukov said. “The other…is Seven.”

Somehow, Xavier’s eyes went even wider.

“You consider the decision to execute Seven…unimportant?” Xavier asked. “You didn’t think this is something worth mentioning or running by me?!”

“Sir…”

“Silence! How dare you? I am in command of this mission, Zhukov! Me! Not you, me! You are not to make any such decisions without my authorization!”

Zhukov balled up his fists, but stood there and took it. He had to. He was paid to, after all. Xanthis and Xavier were forking over a lot of money for the services of him and his men. Xavier was in charge of the mission…even if he shouldn’t be.

“Of course, Lord,” he said.

Xavier grabbed a comlink from his belt. “Markov, bring the prisoners inside.”

Zhukov quickly grabbed his own comlink. “Markov, belay that order.”

He had never seen anyone quite as angry as Xavier was at the moment. In fact, he was quite sure that Xavier was about to kill him. The only thing that comforted Zhukov was that he still had seven of his troopers on the bridge. If Xavier made any kind of move against Zhukov, he would have to make a move against the entire team. Zhukov could see from Xavier’s eyes that he was not up for that kind of battle.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“It is a mistake to bring them inside,” Zhukov said. “They surrendered voluntarily. They want to be on the bridge. We cannot give them that. They have some kind of plan and we cannot give them a chance to execute it.”

“Surrendering their weapons and entering an enemy stronghold is a stupid plan, General. I would think you would be able to realize that.”

How did this fool get to be in charge of anything? It’s no wonder he was abandoned by Sith Squadron…

“It does seem like a foolish plan, sir,” he replied. “But nevertheless, we cannot let them onto this bridge. As long as we hold the bridge, we control the SSD. We cannot compromise our security here! Especially to satisfy some twisted desire you have to see your old comrade!”

“Watch your tongue, General,” Xavier warned. Xavier raised his comlink again, but before he could activate it Zhukov reached out and grabbed his hand.

“You cannot allow them access to this bridge,” Zhukov warned back. “Do not let personal feelings interfere with our mission.”

Xavier pulled his hand away from Zhukov and activated the comlink.

“Markov…bring in the prisoners.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Markov…bring in the prisoners.”

Both Seven and Tyros had been disarmed, leaving them defenseless.

Well, leaving me defenseless, Seven corrected himself. Tyros is never defenseless.

The blast doors hissed open. Markov took point, leading Seven and Tyros onto the bridge, while the other guard stood behind them, blaster up and ready. So there they were…unarmed prisoners, walking onto a bridge held by their enemy…Seven really wished that Tyros had told him the whole plan. “Get captured” was the main objective. That part had been really easy. The rest of the plan that had been revealed entailed the vague, though no less easy directions of “trust me” and “follow my lead.” The problem was, in this case the vagueness outweighed the easiness.

Despite what Seven had seen earlier from Tyros, that wasn’t very comforting.

Part of that was because he just couldn’t get Palin out of his mind. She was on the ship, still in labor, totally defenseless. What if a team of commandos found her? Neither Palin nor Star were in any position to put up a fight. What if she was killed? And their kid? What if Seven should be killed on this bridge? The thought of his kid not having a father terrified him.

As if reading his mind, Tyros turned to him and said, “Don’t worry, it’ll be all right.”

“Ya know, I’d feel better if you told me the rest of your plan now.”

“This is the rest of my plan,” Tyros said back.

“Get captured?” he said as loudly as he could in a whisper. “That was your whole plan?! I thought you had more than that!”

“Well, I had planned on some ass kicking…probably some arm breaking, some knee cap shattering, some neck snapping…generally causing a lot of chaos and destruction, with a subtle touch of mayhem. Feel better?”

“Oh, lots.”

He surveyed the bridge as they were led in. He saw ten of the soldiers on the bridge, dressed in the same attire that they had been wearing when they had ambushed him on Coruscant. He recognized Zhukov immediately, even though the man was now dressed in a combat suit instead of his chef’s garb. The man did not look happy at all, which was a bit surprising since so far everything was going in their favor. What was causing him such discomfort? Perhaps it was the man standing next to him.

He did not wear the same outfit as the commandos, though black was still the color of choice. At his belt hung a lightsaber. Was this Xanthis’ new apprentice? He was young, even younger than Seven. His head was bare and he had a goatee. He looked…familiar. Very familiar.

Wait a second…

It couldn’t be…

And yet…it was.

The young man smiled at him. “Hello, Seven. So good to see you again.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Zhukov stood next to Xavier as the prisoners were brought in. He could see Seven, but Markov was standing in front of the other solider. He could not yet see his face.

This is a bad idea, he thought to himself. A bad idea. Xavier is a fool! He will ruin the entire mission!

But he was not the only fool. He had to admit to himself that this was not a smart plan on the part of the enemy. Who would come up with such a foolish plan? Disarm yourself and walk into the clutches of your foe? That took gall and ego. What mere mortal man would think himself capable enough to successfully pull off a plan like this?

Markov then moved to the side, revealing Seven’s cohort, and in one moment of clarity Zhukov realized that their plan was not foolish. It was, in fact, a good plan. Out of the entire galaxy, Zhukov only knew of a handful of people that could successfully pull off this plan. As fate would have it, one of them happened to be Tyros Dakon.

Zhukov didn’t know what to say or even to think. He had been given profiles on everyone that Xavier thought would present a threat during their raid. Why the hell had he not given Zhukov a file that said Tyros Dakon was aboard the SSD? Not even a file was needed…Zhukov knew all he wanted or needed to know about Tyros Dakon. He just needed to know that Dakon was aboard. If he had known, the whole attack plan would have been vastly different in both its makeup and execution..

Or called off altogether.

Zhukov had rethought his position. Xavier was no longer a fool. He was, in fact, the biggest idiot who had ever graced -- or disgraced -- Zhukov’s presence. For Zhukov knew that they had already lost the bridge. He would not be able to convince Xavier to just execute these two, as they should’ve done already. Xavier would want to brag and gloat. He would let his emotions get the better of himself. And then he would slip up. And the second that that happened, Dakon would make his move.

The men of Alpha Team were the best. He had trained each one himself. But none of them were a match for Tyros Dakon, neither solo nor working together as a team. And with Seven around to help, it would be make things even more difficult.

And if Dakon was there, then it meant he’d already exhausted himself of other targets. Chances were strong that most -- if not all -- of Zhukov’s teams were dead. Zhukov would not -- could not -- expect any backup. Alpha would be all he had for this coming battle.

And he knew that it would not be enough to win the night.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Seven couldn’t believe it.

“Rick?” he said, more than a bit stunned. “Sith Rick? What are you doing here? And you brought your lightsaber?”

“My name is Rick no longer,” he said. “I have adopted a new name. One better suited to me. I am Xavier.”

“Oookay, Professor,” Seven muttered sarcastically. “What are you doing with them, though? You’re one of us.”

Rick -- Xavier -- let out a sharp laugh. “Ha! One of you…I was never one of you. You people never accepted me.”

“What are you talking about? You flew with us!”

“And you abandoned me!” Xavier yelled back. “You say I was one of you, but that isn’t true. None of you ever respected me. None of you ever treated me as an equal. I was laughed at…ridiculed…I was a joke to you. I was never trusted, never believed.”

“That’s not true--” Seven tried, but Xavier cut him off.

“No? I warned the squadron of Narska’s imminent betrayal well over a month before it happened. Well before any of you ever noticed it. And what happened when I came forward with this? I was laughed at and ignored. I was constantly overlooked when it came to missions, and no one ever took me seriously. I was such an unimportant member of the squadron that when we took a trip to Coruscant to get Sky, you left me behind and didn’t even notice that I was gone!”

“We noticed…after a couple of months. Look, we were busy during that time…and a bit drunk. A bit…very drunk. We didn’t really give it much thought.”

Xavier nodded. “And now is when you pay for such…indiscretions.” Xavier turned to Zhukov and the soldiers. “Bind them.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Okay…now it’s time to act.

Without even thinking, Skate leapt over the bar and made a mad dash for the door, swinging her light saber and deflecting blaster bolts as she went. Two assault troopers fell before she even reached the door frame. Once she did reach the door frame, the situation was worse. Worse for them.

She was a Sith possessed…no, worse…a Sith chick possessed. She swung her lightsaber with no regard for life or limb…their lives or limbs. Within five seconds of her attack in the hall, they were minus another two troops, and those two were minus their heads. After the grenade attack and her mad dash through the bar, that left them with only four troops. She scanned the hallway in front of her and only found three. Where was the other?

She tried to swing her lightsaber at the remaining three troops, but was cut off from doing that when she felt a foot connect with her back.

Ah, there was the fourth…

Skate fell forward, her lightsaber falling out of her hand and rolling down the hallway. She glanced up to make sure that none of the other soldiers were trying to grab the ancient weapon, and was delighted to see them actually retreating. Or, from another point of view, running away. Red Fangs were pouring out of the bar and giving pursuit. The three cowardly troopers who ran would be dealt with shortly by the Fangs. Good.

That left only the bastard that had blindsided her.

Skate turned onto her back just in time to see the last remaining trooper, who looked like a leader, pointing a blaster at her. She lashed out with her foot and kicked the blaster away from him. The weapon landed right next to her lightsaber. Skate quickly got to her feet and took a fighting stance. If he wanted to do it hand to hand, it was fine with her. Her opponent, though, didn’t seem like he wanted to play that game. Instead, his eyes were on the weapons that were lying next to each other.

Fine…if he wanted to make a dash for the weapons, she was game for that. They were both about the same distance from blaster and saber. They had about the same chance of getting there first. She and the commando looked at each other, then back at the weapons. At the same time, they both broke into a dash.

She was shocked at how quick he was. She had expected to blow right by him. Instead, he was slightly in the lead. When they were both two meters away from the weapons, they dove, their hands outstretched. Skate felt metal on her hand, tightened her grip on it, and rolled through the dive.

When she stood up and looked at her opponent, she was a bit disappointed.

The trooper had beaten her.

They had now switched weapons. Skate was holding his blaster, while he wielded her lightsaber.

Doh.

The trooper activated the dark-blue blade with a grin on his face. He began to twirl the saber around in a lavish display. He was obviously trying to show Skate that he knew how to handle a lightsaber. He had been trained in the use of one. He obviously had some kind of martial arts weapons training. He swung the blade back and forth with the skill of a Sith Master, occasionally switching hands to show her that he was as good with the left hand as he was with the right. If he had been in some kind of lightsaber competition for best form, he would have no doubt won. His skill at ceremonial swirls was astounding. But for all the flash, Skate knew something that he didn’t seem to know.

This was no competition.

And being able to twirl a lightsaber certainly didn’t make you a Sith.

With a quick but casual motion, she raised her blaster and shot him once in the chest, killing him immediately. He flew back against the wall, dead before he even hit it. Skate’s lightsaber deactivated as it fell out of his hand.

She shook her head. Amateur.

She turned to General Pax and Sky, who were exiting the bar.

“Is that everybody?” Skate asked sweetly.

Pax nodded. “Yeah…you got just about everybody,” he said, a note of admiration in his voice. “You could’ve left a couple for us. We do need to earn our keep around here.”

“Well, there’s plenty of stuff left to do,” Skate told him while reaching down and picking up her lightsaber.

“Now can we go to the bridge?” Pax asked.

Skate nodded. “Now to the bridge.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was easy for Xanthis to pilot his shuttle through the battle unnoticed, especially with the Force as his ally. The pilots of Sith Squadron, few as they were, were too busy with his droid fighters to worry about a single shuttle flying towards the SSD. If they only knew.

And if they only knew what was on board the SSD. The child that was being born there…he was the future. He was the key. Xanthis could feel it. Knew it.

Xanthis did not expect any trouble on the SSD. There wasn’t anybody aboard that ship that could cause him any problems. The only members of Sith Squadron who could match his skill with a lightsaber would all be in their starfighters right now…mainly, Reno, Thunder and Jace. The rest? Not a chance. He was, after all, the Angel of Death. Nothing could touch him. Nothing could harm him.

He should be able to sneak in, grab the baby and return to the Scimitar unscathed. Or perhaps he wouldn’t even need to return to the Scimitar. If Xavier were to be successful in suppressing opposition, then Xanthis could simply stay on the SSD…which he planned on renaming as soon as possible.

But first he had to get the kid.

Xanthis keyed in the codes that Xavier had given him to gain access to the SSD’s docking bays. In moments he would land the shuttle. In minutes he would have a new apprentice. A child. One he could raise from birth and mold in the way he saw fit. A child of darkness. Perhaps he would even have the child’s eyes removed before he got used to them. One did not need sight, after all, to function. Sight was a hindrance. Sight was a disability. When one had the Force, one did not need such…limitations.

Yes…the eyes will have to go…

Xanthis prepared the shuttle for landing.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Something is wrong…something is very wrong…

Jace could feel it. And it wasn’t just the battle…there was something bigger at stake. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

He could put his finger on the trigger, though, and shoot a droid fighter out of the sky, which he did promptly.

What was it? What was bugging him? It wasn’t the insane odds against them. That seemed to be common enough for them. It wasn’t the mysterious blackout on the SSD, although that had obviously piqued his interest. It wasn’t even that Xanthis was attacking the SSD. He obviously had a serious grudge against the Sith. It was something…specific. Something he couldn’t quite identify.

After blowing away another fighter, he scanned the battlefield. So far no Sith had been killed. Fox had even managed to stay inside of his fighter for a change. So far.

Then he saw it. A shuttle. It was flying on a path that would take it from the Scimitar to the SSD. In fact, it had already started docking procedures for the Super Star Destroyer. Jace reached out with the Force, and once he did, he immediately knew what the cause of his disturbance was…

Xanthis.

He was aboard the shuttle. He would soon be aboard the SSD. But why would he risk leaving the relatively safe command ship to go to the battlefield that the SSD would be? Why would he take that chance? If his plan was to destroy the SSD, he wouldn’t go there. If his plan was to steal the SSD, he wouldn’t be needed there. That meant that there was something else on the ship that he wanted. Something that was worth risking his life for…

Oh no…

Jace knew what it was.

Xanthis wanted the child.

Jace wasn’t going to let him have it.

He angled his fighter for a strafing run on Xanthis’ shuttle. It would take him over a minute to get there, but he would be able to reach the shuttle before it had fully docked. Maybe he could even destroy it? No…he didn’t want to destroy it. He couldn’t let Xanthis die yet. He still needed Xanthis around. But he could stop him. He had to stop him. He could not allow Xanthis to capture the child.

“Four,” he heard Reno say over the comm. “Form up with Two for a strafing run on the Scimitar.”

No…not now!

He had to stop Xanthis. Maybe if he told Reno about Xanthis…no, he didn’t want Reno to be involved with Xanthis. Reno would try to kill him, and with Jace’s luck he would accidentally succeed. He couldn’t have that. Jace sighed inwardly. He was going to have to follow Reno’s orders and break off. He was going to have to let Xanthis board the SSD.

And he was going to have to hope that anything that transpired inside the ship didn’t go against his plans.

* * * * * * * * * * * *