Commander Artran marched down the corridor of the Senate building, surrounded by aides each trying to hand him a new intelligence brief. The majority of them said the same thing, but each aide was convinced his brief contained information crucial to the Federation cause.

“Enough,” he barked, fed up with the lot of them. “Give everything you have to Lieutenant Grenem, then you can leave. I have a council briefing I have to be at soon.”

That said he sped up, leaving his poor lieutenant to deal with them.

Lieutenant Grenem managed to catch up, before he entered the amphitheatre several minutes later.

“One new piece of information, sir,” he informed his commander once he had out run the overeager aides. “I have the brief here for you to review.”

Handing it over, he paused to straighten his uniform while Artran scanned the brief.

“I'll be sure to inform the council of this. It may have an impact on our next move. Trumpier, announcer us to the Council, so we may enter.”

Artran waited while the customary formalities were completed. The High Council insisted on the traditional entrance for all high-ranking personages so he had to be formally announced before he could enter the room. The usual trivialities done with, he strode in and took his place at the dais, his lieutenant beside him.

The High Council of the Galactic Federation had already assembled in the indoor amphitheatre of the Senate building. The council, composed of representatives of the founding races of the Federation, was arranged in a semicircle around the dais in one long row. Such an arrangement was annoying when one had to make an appearance before them, but the design was insisted on, to insure that every member of the council was equal.

Tourushe, surrounded by a flock of Teloriens, had also joined the briefing. As the head of the project, he had a vested stake in the weapons recovery. He sat beside a humiliated Coordinator of Defense and her flunkies in the balcony above the council. A mild panic was forming throughout the Federation planets as the Ambassadors had failed to keep the reports they had received a secret from the general population. The council had blamed the general hysteria forming on the Coordinator and she had already been reprimanded on her actions in informing the Ambassadors of the current crisis (despite having the permission of the Council before she did it). Now it was the commander's turn.

“Commander Artran,” the Begunosh representative said before Artran could even speak, “we hold your High Guard responsible for failing to protect this valuable weapon. The Federation will pay dearly because of your mistakes and, therefore, we have decided….”

“Excuse me, your Excellency,” Artran interrupted, before he could go any further. He refused to be held responsible for someone else's stupidity. “My High Guard was not given the task of protecting the weapon during its transport to Hyperia. In fact, I strenuously objected to the decision to have it shipped on a commercial freighter, however, all my objections were overridden. Had I been given the responsibility of seeing it safely to Hyperia, we would not be in the situation we are in now.”

“You were not given this responsibility,” the Neighdark representative questioned, puzzled.

Don't any of them read the briefings sent to them, Artran wondered?

“No your Excellency,” he responded. “In spite of this, I consider it my responsibility to locate the weapon. Towards that end, I have uncovered a group, which I believe has some culpability in the hijacking. Lieutenant, if you would lower the screen please.”

Grenem flipped a set of switches, lowering a transparent viewer to which the council directed their attention.

“Each of you should have received a report on my findings,” Artran began. He projected an image of the Belagorate corridor. “This is a still of corridor of the Belagorate, the freighter that was raided. As you can see, one of the assailants appears to be using some sort of stealth technology or ability. Based on intelligence work, we believe we have isolated one race that could have produced the technology or possessed the ability for such a feat.”

“The Lorian race, though new to the Federation and rather small, does possess the technological capability to project an invisibility screen from a remote location, that could prevent a person from being detected and allow them an extreme freedom of movement, but, there is a second possibility. For sometime now, the Lorians have used a specific species, none as felines, in their military for advanced scouting and undercover operations. Their reasons for this concern a natural stealth ability that makes them nearly impossible to detect in any type of terrain. These felines are documented as having a natural ability to disappear from view, being almost impossible to detect with the naked eye. They seem to blend into their backgrounds so perfectly, they can become barely discernible.”

Artran paused while the council discussed amongst them, what he had just revealed. Once they had quieted, he continued, outlining more about the Lorians and how they had discovered the information. He then went on to describe Lorian guilds and the various illegal activities they were known to engage in. He went through reports on third space paths that had been detected through leftover partial rips in normal space and other scientific finds and calculations, some of which he did not even understand.

Throughout the briefing he answered question after question about things like signatures left in the computer system of the Belagorate. Most of the council was reluctant to believe him, stating that the Lorians were a quiet but respectable race that had made many contributions to the Federation by joining. Some even argued that all he had was circumstantial evidence, and they could not accuse an entire race based on something that flimsy.

It was then that Artran focused on one specific guild, the Pax. He brought up the dossiers on the various members and their connection to a variety of high-ranking officials. He brought out evidence of evidence of illegal activities by the guild, building a case against them. He used supposition and conjecture as fact until every member of the council was quiet and deeply troubled by his allegations. Finally, he brought out evidence that suggested the guild had actual possession is the missing cargo, including the weapon.

“I think I speak for all of us, Commander, when I say, the evidence you have presented us with does lend credit to your suspicions,” the Yaqovxz representative finally spoke. “How do you propose we proceed. Remember, Commander, the Lorian are a proud and powerful race, we cannot openly accuse any of them of this crime, even with the evidence your intelligence operatives have gathered.”

“I realize that, your Excellency, however we cannot do nothing, either. We must recover the weapon as quickly as possible. Even now I am receiving reports that the Hyperion armada is struggling. We need this alliance. Moreover, a ship, registered to the head of the Pax guild no less, has launched from the Lorian home world. We have to operate under the assumption that these individuals have seen the report sent out to the Ambassadors, so they must suspect we could find them. No doubt they are moving the weapon to another location and plan to get rid of it or worse, to sell it, possibly to an enemy of the Federation. The safety of the Federation is at stake here!”

“If I may offer a suggestion,” Tourushe said suddenly, standing and coming down to the dais. “If it please the council, I propose we do this as quietly as possible. We send one ship, with a crew we can trust, in pursuit of the craft. I myself am willing to go with them and try to ensure that there are no political repercussions. In the meantime, we move our intelligence operatives into Lorian territory and have them maintain constant surveillance on all areas of this guild. I also suggest that we keep this quiet from the Lorian government so as not to upset them. As you said, your Excellency, they are a proud and powerful race.”

“Your suggestion is worthy Tourushe,” the Dylpnomic representative responded. “We shall choose this course of action. Commander Artran, your son is captain of one of the fastest ships in the High Guard, correct?”

“That is correct, your Excellency,” the commander replied.

“Good. Have him return here immediately and inform him or this course of action. We place our trust in you, Commander Artran, and you, Tourushe, do not fail this council.”

That said the council ended. In groups, the representatives exited the amphitheatre, discussing what had been said. Artran waited until he was left with Tourushe's group, before speaking.

“I don't like this,” he addressed the Telorien. “You has better not mess this up Tourushe.”

“My dear Artran,” he responded as he took a council seat, “you must trust me, I have only our best interests at heart.” Snorting, he began to exit himself, the Lieutenant at his side.

“Oh Commander,” Tourushe called out suddenly.

Artran turned to see Tourushe; fingers tapping together under his chin and a devious smile on his face ugly.

“Do let your son know, we will have two extra quests on this little voyage. I'm having them picked up as we speak. They should provide some information that will come in very handy.”

That said he turned to speak to one of his aides.

“I don't trust him, sir,” Grenem said once they had exited the Senate building. “He has his own agenda in this.”

“In that, I believe you are correct, Lieutenant, however don't forget, we all have our own agenda in this mess.”

“But sir, I don't think he can be trusted.”

“I agree with you there, that is why I had you prepare our contingency plan. I refuse to rely on that begeskik. Is everything in order for my arrival?”

“Yes sir, I had the prisoner transferred over here this morning and the requisition went through without a hitch. Here's the data you requested.”

“Good. Have the prisoner brought to Briefing Room C and bring the things I asked for, I'll be there at 001245.”

“Yes, sir.”

Artran swung by his office to retrieve his link and scanner then headed down the hallway of the momentous Annex Building. The Annex contained all the offices of ranked High Guard officers as well as a several war rooms. The entire bottom was devoted to the intelligence division so a multitude of information flowed in and out of the building every hour. Despite its importance to the Federation, the building itself was pretty ugly. It had been constructed of a grayish marbled stone that had been meant to compliment the political buildings in the Federation district but had instead looked liked short gray mushrooms among the tall, graceful spires. It might not have been so bad on the inside if the architects hadn't used the same stone to construct the hallways. They gave the interior a depressing air.

As he descended to the 5th level he placed the crystal his lieutenant had given him into his PDV and began to skim the information on the prisoner waiting for him. A lupine, he had been drafted at a young age as part of a training program designed to create the perfect intelligence operatives. Several of the programs more apt trainees had been selected and reassigned to another program, one that worked on the control of the Security office. They had taken the young people and turned them into highly trained assassins and covert operatives. Artran himself had never supported that program and had been instrumental in having it disbanded.

However, while most of the operatives had been reassigned to other divisions, a few had escaped and disappeared, most likely to become mercenaries, Artran mused. But this lupine hadn't been so lucky. Apparently he had gone crazy and turned on his handlers. Believing him too unstable and knowledgeable to go free, they had imprisoned him in the facility by M-19, Marrios. Marrios was reserved for the most dangerous criminals in the Federation, those it was believed could not be reformed or mindwiped. Once you entered Marrios, you never left. Artran was about to change that.

Reaching Briefing Room C, he knocked on the door. One of the guards let him in and Artran got his first look at the prisoner, flanked by several guards in combat armor. The lupine had the characteristics of all his species, gray fur with its unusual sheen that seemed to make him gleam, a tall form, and a face that looked almost like a caniscans with a long snout and pointed ears.

“I know you don't have any idea who I am,” Artran said as he took a seat across the table from the lupine. Grenem was already there and moved up beside him.

“You are Commander Artran Debust Beenemes of the High Guard,” the prisoner replied, surprising them all. He had an interesting voice, very deep and almost hypnotic.

“Yes, I am. You are very well informed.”

“I make it my business to know such things.”

“How interesting. So do you know why you're here?”

The prisoner just shrugged.

“You're here to hear my offer. I'm going to give you the chance to earn your freedom and be a hero to the Federation.”

“Not interested, Beenemes.” The prisoner turned his back on him and stared out the small window. One of the guards smacked him for his disrespect.

“You don't want your freedom?”

“I have no desire to be a hero.”

“Really, not even to your people? I'm sure they'd be extremely grateful if you saved them from being annihilated.” “My people are not in danger.”

“Every race in the Federation is in danger! There is war coming, a war we are trying to prevent before it to late, but we have a problem and I believe you are the solution.”

“My people will have nothing to do with your war.”

“Your people are not going to have a choice. Read these,” Artran slid several documents to the prisoner who caught them with his magnetically bound hands. While the prisoner studied them, Artran studied him. According to his records, the lupine was supposed to be a paranoid schizophrenic, but, after studying his behavior pattern and the analysis done by the psychs, he didn't buy it. He hadn't been the only one, as several of the psychs had been agreed with him.

Despite being imprisoned, the lupine was in excellent physical shape. He moved silently and easily with a kind of coordinated grace. Artran was positive he had selected the right person for the job. The prisoner looked up finally and Artran was momentarily speechless. The lupines eyes were amazing. It was as if the sheen that covered his fur had collected together to form diamond shapes set in the middle of his eyeballs.

“What is it you wish me to do,” he asked, finally.

“Sir, I don't think this is such a good idea,” Grenem said to his commander as the returned to his office.

“You didn't object before Lieutenant, why now,” Artran replied.

“I don't trust him, sir, especially now that I have seen him. I don't understand why you trust him.”

“I don't, that's why your going with him Lieutenant.”

“That's another thing sir, I don't think he likes me and he does not want a partner in this, that was clear.”

“He doesn't like any of us so don't take it personally and you won't be his partner, you will be the one in charge, remember?”

“Somehow, sir, I don't see this working out.”

“Relax Grenem, this will work. He'll cooperate because his world is at stake here too. I've studied him; he's not what he appears to be. As long as his world is in danger, he will do whatever is necessary to protect it and I've just given him a way to save his people. He will do what we tell him to. All you two will need to do is retrieve the weapon; we'll leave the rest of it up to Tourushe. As soon as he gives my son a destination, he'll relay it to me and the two of you will follow.”

“In his ship, sir.”

“The ship, like the individual, was designed for something like this.”

“Perhaps sir, but still, I have a bad feeling about all of this.”

When the design for her was first presented, everyone agreed she would be the pride of the fleet and thus she was christened the Pride of the Republic. The first of a new class of heavy cruiser, she was born from a new technology that would allow her to slip in and out of third space undetected. She was built on a smaller scale then a normal cruiser, but with a stronger defense system and weapons payload that had ever been placed on a fleet ship, something that had come in handy since she saw action not long after she was launched.

The Republic was also the first ship to ever be launched without a captain. Debate had gone on for many weeks as to who should captain her and, although many names were tossed around, only one was deemed fit to be her captain. Captain Neran Debust Kaeshuc had already distinguished himself during the Battle of Ocderf 7 when he took command of the Armageddon after her captain died and turned the tide of battle in favor of the Federation.

From the moment he graduated from Fleet Academy with top honors, Neran had risen quickly up High Guard ranks. Anyone who had fought beside him in battle knew he was a dedicated soldier and those who went to the academy with him called him a natural leader and brilliant strategist. He had earned respect and promotions on his own merit and disdained the sycophants who hung around him because he was the High Guard Commander's son.

At the moment, he stood on the forward bridge of the Republic looking out of M-19, waiting for a shuttle carrying Ambassador Tourushe and party to dock. His father had already briefed him on the current crisis and his suspicions about Tourushe. A priority link was already open and locked so the commander would be informed of everything that happened.

Neran loved his ship, almost as much as loved being a High Guard officer. The Republic was elliptical with a secondary bridge resting on top of the main vessel. Sections had been removed from the ellipse to give her a more streamlined look and to give her fighters a secondary launching bay. Her interior was designed along the same idea. Everything was built into the walls so it could retracted and leave more space while each section of the ship was essentially self-contained of they could be close off a section and still operate smoothly.

“Captain, Midgar is reporting the shuttle as docked and all passengers are safely aboard. Ambassador Tourushe will meet you in your quarters, sir,” a young caniscan manning the COM reported.

Nodding, he turned to his first officer, a Geai named Drellem.

“Bring her about and make to jump as soon as we have a destination. I'll be in my quarters with the Ambassadors party.”

Drellem saluted then turned to the navigator.

Neran left the bridge and followed the main hallway to the transport tubes where he went down to the officers' deck. As he entered his quarters he found Tourushe already there, making himself comfortable.

“Ah, Captain Neran,” Tourushe rose to greet him.

“Ambassador Tourushe, my father sends his regards. Allow me to welcome aboard the Pride of the Republic.”

“Yes, she certainly is that. She's one of a kind, I understand.”

“For the moment, yes. However, there are five more in production for the fleet. Where are your guests, Ambassador?”

“Please, call me Tourushe, your father does. My aides are preparing my apartment. Oh, and I've had an individual placed in your brig. He will be able to provide us with information on our quarry.”

“I see,” Neran responded as he settled into a chair across from Tourushe. “Has this prisoner provided you with any information as to where the Gryffen is bound? From what we have been able to determine, she never actually entered the jump lane she was supposed to use.”

Tourushe merely smiled and sipped his drink. Finally he put it down and pulled a sheet of plast from his pocket. Placing it on the table between them, he slid it across to Neran.

“Everything I have already managed to extract from our most unwilling and foolish guest,” he said as he rose to pour himself another drink.

While Neran read through the newest data, Tourushe perused his surroundings. Despite the overall militaristic feel of the quarters, they were not uncomfortable. The captain was obviously a devoted of Fenshi. Aside from the overlarge chairs and table set in the corner of the sitting room, the rest of the room was very open with many low cushiony fenetre to sit on and low tables to dine off of. A few small but expensive videographs lined two walls and some small antique items were spread around the room. With pleasant lighting coming from the ceiling, the room had a relaxing atmosphere to it.

“Well,” Neran spoke once he had finished reading, “what do you propose as our first destination Ambassador.”

“I suggest we try Alliance first,” he replied. “It's a very large station and they do much commerce there. No doubt illegal activities go on frequently there.”

“Every world, colony, and space station has some crime no matter how hard they try to stop it.”

“You'll not find anything like that on a Telorien planet, Captain, and certainly not among our colonies, no matter where they are located. My government takes pride in not having a crime rate.”

“Surely Ambassador there is some crime, even if it is a random occurrence. No race has ever truly managed to stamp out the criminal element from its people.”

“We have. No crime has been committed by a Telorien in several hundred years.”

“How could your people have possibly managed that,” Neran demanded in shock.

“Easily Captain, my people feel that any action committed in the pursuit of certain goals cannot be illegal if they help one attain one's specific objective.”

“In other words, you believe the end justifies the means to get there. Interesting.”

“Indeed.”

Somewhat disgusted at such a cavalier attitude, Neran activated his link to the bridge.

“This is this the captain. Tell Drellem to set a course for the Alliance in the neutral sector,” he said into the link.

“Yes Captain, at once,” came the response.

“You know Captain,” Tourushe said, suddenly. “I find it interesting that your 1st Officer is not a Caniscan. That's very rare.”

“Not every member of the High Guard is caniscan Ambassador. Many caniscan chose to enter our own military academies instead of the High Guard Corum.”

“I understand your own brothers were some of them.”

“That is correct.”

“Not doubt your father was disappointed that only one of you followed in his footsteps but I digress. It's just surprising to find a Geai working among caniscan. Given the history between your people of course. The Geai once invaded your planet and enslaved your people for years. On top of that, they are a disgusting species, carrion eaters and cannibalistic at that. I wonder how you can stand to work with one of them.”

Resisting the temptation to rip the Ambassadors throat out, Neran rose from his seat and poured himself a drink. As he stood there he felt the sudden shift in the ship signaling the engine changeover and the jump to third space.

“My first officer is not a typical Geai,” he said as he sat back down. “Drellem rejected the ways of us people years ago, as many of his people are starting to do, and decided to lead a new life. He joined the academy with me and passed with excellent marks. When it came time to choose my second, Drellem was an obvious choice. I trust him implicitly and he has never let me down.”

“Interesting, a caniscan trusting anyone. Your father is one of the most secretive individuals I have ever met, something I have come to believe is a genetic trait with your people.”

“Were not fools, Ambassador. We learned many centuries ago the foolishness of trusting other races.”

“The Geai invasion?”

“The Geai were the last in a long line of invaders. Once we had removed them from our world it was decided the best way to prevent another invasion was to become stronger.”

“Really,” Tourushe replied, interested. “I always wondered how did managed to build such a militaristic society.”

“Breeding of course. The certain genetic traits were isolated then bred constantly into our race until they were the most dominate.”

“Such as?”

“Physical strength, height, stamina, flexibility, and aggression. From their we trained ourselves to be warriors.”

“But why build such a martial society? Your military controls the government, economy, even the education. Its rather Spartan, the way you people conduct yourselves.”

“Simple, warriors need discipline and the most disciplined society is one were martial law is the only law. Besides, the stronger we are militaristically, the less likely another race will attack us.”

Tourushe nodded.

“Yes, that does make sense although it seems a bit unnecessary now that the Federation governs us all. The likelihood of a Federation planet being invaded is slim.”

“That is not exactly true. The High Guard is still dealing with races that resist the Federation and rebel. They constantly make war on their neighbors and us. Plus you have the rogues, pirates, and now the so-called anti-federalists appose us. Look at the situation we are in now, the threat of a major war looming, chasing after some super weapon that was stolen right out from under us. Constant vigilance is still necessary.”

“This situation would not have occurred if it were not for these frelling Lorians.”

“I confess, I am not that familiar with the Lorian race. I have read the reports, of course, but they can often be lacking.”

“A degenerate race,” Tourushe said disdainfully. “You would find their society pathetic.”

“What makes you say that,” Neran asked, curious.

“You value law and order above all things, do you not Captain?”

“Well… yes.”

“The idea does not exist for Lorians. They have no set morality, no culture mores, and no religion to speak of either. These guilds that are little more then organized crime syndicates that operate without interference from their so-called law enforcers run their commerce. As for their government, it seems hopelessly corrupt. Though they claim the 'warrior caste' is in control, one sees little evidence on a strongly established militia force in control. What military they do have could be classified as pitiful, strictly planetary and not that effective obviously. Can you believe they had a civil war right before the joined the Federation! In fact, the only reason the Federation allowed them membership is the technology they possess.”

“It does seem odd that such a young race could be so technologically advanced.”

“A fluke no doubt. They certain don't devote any time or effort to developing their defensive capabilities.”

“Hard to believe the Federation would allow a race like that entrance. They have very standards.”

“I fear the High Council is not as effective as it once was. Will we be departing for Alliance soon, Captain? We are on a deadline here.”

“We have already jumped Ambassador.”

“Really,” Tourushe looked surprised, “I didn't notice.”

“Spend enough time on a ship and you begin to feel every movement she makes.”

“Even a ship like the Republic? I thought she was constructed better then that.”

“Did you feel anything, Ambassador?”

“Well, no but…”

“You're a civilian, if you don't mind me saying so. You probably only travel between your world and Galactic.”

“I have traveled a bit more then that, Captain,” Tourushe responded, insulted.

“I've spent a large portion of my life in space. Moreover, this is my ship. I know every inch of her and I can feel the engines vibrations change. A good captain knows his ship.”

“Well, I guess you're a good captain then, Neran.”

“That I am, if you'll excuse me Tourushe, a good captain should spend some time on the bridge.”

They both rose at the same time and exited. Neran waited until Tourushe had reached his quarters before making his way back to the bridge. There, he joined Drellem in his office just of the main section of the bridge.

“Captain,” Drellem said, handing over the helm link and date pad to his superior.

“What do you think of our guest 1st officer,” he said as he took his seat and plugged in the helm link.

“I doubt the Ambassador would care about the opinion of a disgusting Geai,” Drellem sneered.

“Oh, come now Drellem, surely the opinions of a racist bigoted behind of a cannarck don't bother you.”

Drellem snorted with laughter for a moment then caught himself.

“He maybe all that and more but he wasn't far off about my race. Face it, most of the Federation still don't trust the Geai, with good reason.”

“You, Drellem, are not like most of your brethren, something you have proven over and over again. Besides, any crew onboard this ship would willingly guard your back in a battle, isn't that right Pares?”

Lieutenant Pares Debarn Ichiul, the newly appointed second officer of the Republic and Operations Director nodded and smiled at Drellem as she placed new reports in from of the captain.

“That's correct, sir,” she said in response. “Latest com reports sir and an update from the home office. Came in just before we jumped.”

“Thank you Lieutenant.” Neran handed the information Tourushe had given him to Pares. “Review this then send it to the appropriate places.”

“Yes, sir.”

When Pares had left, Neran turned back to his first officer.

“Have you gotten a look at our occupant in the brig,” he asked.

Drellem nodded.

“A Lorian male and not a very happy one. They have him vibro-chained and he's still giving them trouble.”

“A Lorian, makes sense though why the Ambassador picked him up I wonder about. According to the Ambassador, Lorians are not very trustworthy so he could easily be feeding us false information.”

“Something to consider, yes. Although I'd say, from the looks of him, he's been worked over maybe he caved. You'll find this interesting though. He's not the only lorian onboard this ship. The Ambassador had a lorian female escorted over with him and she's now ensconced in his quarters. His aides tried to shield her but they were rather incompetent.”

“What is going on here, what sort of game is he playing,” Neran growled through his teeth.

“I'm afraid I can't answer that, sir. However, it is likely that she was brought aboard to help make this flight less boring for him.”

“No, no that's not it. He has too little a regard for their race.”

“That may no mean anything.”

“Perhaps but, he was not particularly eager to return to his quarters, I nearly had to throw him out.”

“I shall continue to monitor his quarters, maybe things will become clearer.”

“Very well.” Neran rose to leave. “You have the bridge again.”

“Where are you going?”

“My quarters. I didn't get a chance to wash his stench off me after he left and I feel unclean now.”

Chuckling, Drellem made his way to his own station while Neran departed the bridge.

“Maintain course heading,” Drellem informed the helmsmen as he sat back to monitor the Ambassador.

“This just arrived sir,” Lt. Grenem said to the commander as he placed the communiqués from the Republic on his desk. “The Republic reports that jump was made for the space station Alliance.”

The two were standing in his office onboard the Reliance, a battle cruiser, orbiting M-19. The commander typically withdrew to the ship when he wanted to be out of the eye of the High Council and Coordinator. Every member of the crew was fiercely loyal to him so he did not have to worry about leaks. He'd had the prisoner and his ship transferred there for launch once they had a destination.

Nodding, Artran activating his link.

“1st officer, make ready for the launch. Have our guest escorted to his ship. The lieutenant and I will meet you there in the main hanger. Have it cleared prior to launch and maintain cloaking at all cost into jump is down.”

“That's going to put a strain on the engines, sir.”

“Don't worry about it Lieutenant, she can take it. Come, we need to be in the main hanger.”

“Yes sir, however, I should tell you I have a bad feeling about all this.”

“Good, that will keep you alert.”