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On a nondescript level of the Imperial Sector lies a small tower shadowed by the star-reaching Imperial High Command twin structures. Everything about the building whispers ‘subtle’ from the private entrances to the outside lighting fixtures. Most would not even realize the building there were it not for it’s exclusive clientele.

Known simply as 'The OG', it is a restaurant that caters to the higher culture of Imperial society. Those with the power, those with the money and those with the connections to further the machinery of the New Order in all its various aspects were catered too by a best in the service industry.

No one really knows when the OG opened or how long it had been there but the exclusive restaurant survived notable galactic events as the fall of the Old Republic, the Rise of the Empire, the birth of the New Republic and it’s fall when General Kaine marched his soldiers back to Coruscant. And through it all, the small establishment remained a fixed picture along the city world-scape even with the rise of even larger, more opulent bureaucratic buildings dwarfing the small restaurant tower.

Even so, the success of the establishment was not in its connections politically, personally, socially or monetarily. No. OG operated on one principle and one principle alone. No matter the customer, if they could afford to eat at the OG, then top notch service coupled with top notch food made for a dining delight that their clientele would appreciate. For most men and women of means, of power and ambition loved to frequent those places that catered to them and OG was the premier of such places.




Simon Kaine stared out at the air-traffic below. The Coruscant night was a sight to behold as lines upon lines of lights traveled along predetermined routes and organized paths. The structures surrounding the restaurant tower glowed in the night and the stars were invisible to the eye. That was the price of illuminating the Imperial Center, the heart of the Empire, the Center of the Galaxy, Coruscant: That one could not, from the surface of the capital world see the stars.

“Too many lights..” he murmured as he stood in the waiting area with a drink in hand. The Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces saw, in the reflection of the window he stared out of, the approach of Grand Moff Zell. The older man, pushing seventy, was having his large leathery overcoat removed and stored when he pointed to the ceiling at the orchestral music playing overhead.

“What is that?” he asked pointedly to the young lady removing the coat.

As she neatly folded the coat over her arm she smiled briefly replying, “That is an orchestral rendition of a very popular song to hit the holonet waves.”

Zell grunted. Nothing was more puzzling than the culture of those living for entertainment. Still, the older man was curious and Simon could not tell if it was because of the young woman (whom he judged attractive enough for Zell’s tastes from what he remembered of the woman who had taken his own coat) or if it was because he truly wanted to know. You never knew with the old man.

“What song?” he asked, his attention resting upon her face.

The girl was oblivious. Or, if she wasn’t, she was clever enough and good enough not to let it show.

“Jeebus take the wheel.” She replied and quickly moved out of the way to store the coat and make room for a droid to come up with a drink menu. Zell’s attention was expertly diverted and Kaine smiled as he continued to stare out at the sights.

“What is that song about?”

As Zell ordered his drink, the droid answered, “It’s a song by a young teenager about a mother who loses control of her air-car with a baby in the back and asks for her god to take control of the vehicle before running into oncoming traffic.”

Simon turned to the older man and grinned, “Nothing is more popular to the masses than a mother who panics operating a vehicle and throws her hands in the air hoping her god of choice will suddenly materialize and save her from the disaster her negligence has created.”

Zell grunted again taking a long drink of his beverage and, handing the glass back to the droid for a refill, remarked, “Whatever happened to those dark aliens with the stringy hair that made some sort of rhyming diddy about their sorry lot in life and their addiction to synthetic substances? It had an interesting rhyming quality if unintelligent lyrics.”

Kaine raised an eyebrow as he thought back. “I think they did a ‘diddy’ about challenging authority. Census Bureau flagged them and they were eventually processed.”

“I hope that their entire fucking race was purged!” Zell suddenly shot out vehemently. “They started that fad didn’t they? That fad where they had some sort of precious metal or mineral put into their teeth?”

“An Ugnaught Consortium purchased the teeth. The department made quite a tidy profit.”

The droid suddenly returned holding another refill. “Your table will be ready in a few minutes.”

“That’s fine.” Simon replied. “There are others coming.”

Zell took the second drink and commented derisively about Simon nursing his. Kaine merely smiled and turned back to the imagery of the city below.

“Look at that sight, Azrael!” He motioned the older man over. “Our hard work is paying off and here we stand! No threats above us. No threats below us.”

Zell’s eyes greedily took in the view and his lips curled into a smirk as his glass touched them. “You’re an idealist, Kaine. You always were. That’s why you plan big and act to lash this fractured galaxy together under our control.”

“You don’t believe it possible?” Simon asked curiously.

The beverage Zell was drinking was bitter as his upper lip curled into his teeth, his features slightly grimaced as he swallowed it down. “I believe in calling things what they are. A fucker is a fucker. A bastard is a bastard and nothing we do will change that. You want to rope the Azguards into a pen and put them under your boot thinking they will adapt and adjust. I tell you now, they will not! At least they will not without an extreme show of overwhelming force and a brutal education about their place in this galaxy.” The old man turned to Kaine and he smiled. “I am an old man, Simon. I don’t have that kind of time to wait for these kriffin aliens to get the education on the facts of life.” He sighed dramatically. “Besides, who wants to fuck with them? No. Rather than lash them, it’s better to simply eliminate them altogether. It’s direct. It’s final. It puts anxiety to rest and best of all,” the old Moff brightened, “it’s cheap.”

“New Order Directives!” Zell put a finger on Kaine’s chest. “Now THAT is an accomplishment to boast to your whores about, Kaine! That was the biggest accomplishment you could ever have brought to the Empire!”

Simon’s eyes lit as he took another sip of his drink turning back towards the city lights lost in thought.

After a moment of silence, Zell coughed slightly and tossed the Supreme Commander a lecherous grin, “There’s a rumor that Bhindi Drayson is pregnant.”

Kaine’s lips pursed into a slow grin of his own. “Did you start that rumor?”

“Didn’t want you to prematurely give her New Order clearance.” The old man laughed. “Besides, the Jaeder clan would have shit jawas.”

The reference to one of the oldest military family in the history of the Empire and Old Republic gave Kaine pause. Such a familial situation was indeed rare. A grand father serving as a Moff, a father as an Admiral, a son as a Colonel.. or was it Captain? Kaine remembered the son rose in rank after the debacle on Sullust by the now defunct Diversity Alliance.

“Trachta should be on his way.” Simon commented off-hand.

Zell gave an uncomfortable snort at the mention of the ISB Director’s name. “So much for top secret.”

“He’s proved himself, Zell. Even moreso than Isard.” Kaine whispered sharply and Zell cleared his throat.

“I still prefer the she-devil to that mechanical monstrosity. Deal with the threats you know.” Zell sagely advised.

An eyebrow rose and Kaine wondered just how OGs would handle the dietary requirements of the Head of the Imperial Security Bureau.

Nervously, I’d imagine.

The reservation was being seen too and the employees of the particular establishment, while nonentities to Kaine typically, were rushing here and there in preparation for the private meeting in one of the exclusive alcoves of the restaurant. He briefly wondered what sort of anxiety the workers here were under to have so many high ranking people dining as a single party. Then he thought about how many famous ones of old would have enjoyed themselves behind the doors of the OG?

A small sliver of a girl moved past the entrance of the waiting area intent on some restaurant duty. Zell raised his eyes appreciatively. “Captain Gutt would have a time with her..” he murmured.

“Do you think about anything else?” Simon asked half in irritation.

Zell laughed at the question. “At my age, Kaine, who’s got the time?” He glanced at a nearby time piece and murmured, “Where the hell is Gutt?”

Again and again I find myself searching for something better then the illusion of life that blankets me, immersed in a heavenly body that I would like to completely disassociate myself with. The reality always hitting my like the blistering stars. The stars appear more horrible with each night that passes. Dark deep nights filled with unwilling servants catering to beings possessing great material wealth. Disgusting are those who circumstance favors. Their circumstance is nothing short of entertaining, amusing to see the distinct pattern they fit into.

“Excuse me”, I say as I pass through sardined guests. That seems to be the most prominent phrase here. Correction, “I’m sorry” seems to fit the mold better. As I pass through the lobby checking positions of the neatly arranged icons for their proper place. These things that create such an ambience should be obliterated all together. Such little dainty and large lavish things amuse the simplest of minds. Create such interesting ideas for discussion amongst the higher ranked. How obtuse can a man really be? Hatred overwhelms me every time I am here, regardless of how distinguished the guests may appear.

“Excuse me”, I say with great frankness as I accidentally bump into a man who is too large to be eating at such a restaurant that will not aid him health wise. He gleams at me disgustingly and in retaliation before he opens his mouth to share his wisdom I apathetically apologize,”I’m sorry sir, please excuse me”, not good enough. He barks out “what is this we have here, a clumsy wait staff, is this what is to be expected throughout the course of the evening here. I demand to speak to a manager”. He turns his back to me and continues his conversation with his comrades signaling me to leave and fetch what he demanded. A gofer he makes me, adding insult to injury.

Having found a new occupation with less disgusting ethics than my last, I agree in leaving the situation as it stands. Knowing those who share in his ideals will soon get there long awaited comeuppance. Knowing good is evident in only those who practice such things that never show in the clientele of this facility. Facility please, more like platinum plated trough for pigs.

Having fetched the manager I return to my other duties. The kitchen is loud and full of busy fast moving staff members ranging from all ages, heights, and origins. Some are great at what they do; others are great at screwing things up for the rest of us. How long have I been employed here now, almost 2 fiscal years, too long to bother focusing on for long periods of time. Leaving the most important things in life to think about after my shift. Seems as if it will be a long night with the lobby as crammed as what it is, and it’s early too. Typically the rudest guests arrive first and stay the longest, what a theme for the evening. My themed evening would have a different tune.

Trying my hardest to walk quickly with accurate steps so as not to bump into any more guests I precede to the kitchen. What a sight, if only the guests knew how easily their food could be tampered with. The slightest rude gesture from a guest should persuade me to do such things, but lowering myself to their level will only make me just comparable to them. Besides the standard of life some beings choose to live by show there integrity. My life, as much as what I can remember of it, will have little regret and much satisfaction. My dreams are all that paint any memories of the past. My note book beside my inadequate bed is filled with half dreamed occurrences of past recollections. Sleep is a wondrous idea at the moment, but I do have some energy might as well make the most of it.

The kitchen is where most of the action takes place here. In reality the kitchen is the easiest place of escape from the guests as well. Tall piles of dished crowd the DMO (dish machine operator) and still he drudges away. Harry has been here a long time, and is his silence you would mistake him for an incompetent slave. Silence is acceptance. Harry has been kind to me, giving me a safe place to sleep and food without question. Normally I don’t trust any living creature that looks my way. Knowing inwardly they only give to receive, and in some cases they assume they can take what they believe is owed to them. But Harry is different, maybe it is his simple mind that is easily manipulated that I don’t feel a threat from. In any case I am grateful for having bumped into such a creature.

“I’m right here”, I reply as someone extends their voice across the kitchen in search of me. My co-worker informs me that one of my guests is irate about a food item missing from their dish. With a slight sigh I reverse my motion and head back towards the dinning area. Trying to remember what the guest looks like I pass thought many tables swallowing their food. Wondering why can’t every one just be happy and eat what they are served. The only reason one complains about anything, weather it be food taste, service, temperature, or anything else, they are old and just upset because they are dying.

As I arrive to the correct numbered table I was given I am almost taken away. My throat is sore with the anticipation of what I will apologize for in addition to the initial complaint. I recognize the fat man sitting at the far end of the rounded table, that same bastard I had accidentally brushed up against in the lobby. But my luck, he wasn’t the one complaining. Instead, the most distinguished looking of them all is the one who speaks to me as I arrive at the table. He doesn’t bark, but instead speaks sternly of what he is disappointed with. Not paying much attention to his words I continue to follow his eyes with mine, trying hard not to break eye contact. I feel myself beginning to roll my eyes back into my brain as I frustratingly take the plate from his reach and begin to replace it for something more appeasing. Wondering why he doesn’t just wolf it down like his fat comrade. My stomach rumbles as I look at the place of half eaten food. Why is it that no one complains before they eat a majority of their protein. You either like it or you don’t, none of this well I liked it up till I got to this part of the plate. Entering the kitchen every staff member gets a chance to ask what happened, and asks what they complained about. Taking time from their duties to embellish on a complaint that could have been prevented if attentiveness would have been focused on initially. Good thing I don’t plan to make a career of this place.

Harry sees me slopping the remains of the food into a trash bin and inquires about the look of disgust I have painted on my face. I assure him it is again just another annoying customer thinking they will get better service and fresher food if they make a spectacle of themselves. My stomach turns as the good food gleams at me from the plastic container. So hungry and yet so disgusted with the food that is served here. Harry then disappears into the bathrooms with a hurried gesture about him. Probably going to sale some illegal goods to make money on the side. Another reason this facility should be shut down. So much flow of illegal items they might as well make them legal so as to make a profit from taxes. Almost all employees, including upper management makes some sort of profit on the side, except for me. No one knows me well enough yet to invest the possibility that I might turn them in for a promotion. Not that a promotion would change the clientele that dine here, and I will always have to deal with the clientele.

Arriving back at the table with piping hot waste I place it carefully in front of the tall man and to my surprise he thanks me in a nonverbal way and dismisses me. I glance at the fat man against my better judgment and see he is still gouging down his meal. "Exclusive client" I was told when hired; what a joke. Then again I also wasn’t informed of what type of conditions I would be working under. The long shifts in the private rooms are the worst, and the night has only begun. Hopefully I will be out early and only dealing with couples dinning-in tonight.

Ortho Gutt was not a man that one looked to for natural leadership. No, he was an opportunist and self proclaimed hunter. His warship, the ISD Predator, had one of the lowest moral ratings in the Imperial Navy. Not that such labels mattered much to the Imperial Captain. What did he care if his officers disliked him and his method of running a warship.

As long as they obeyed they could simmer in silence till their hearts bled.

Moral was not required to push a button and fire a turbolaser obliterating a freight carrying illegal cargo. Moral was not required maintaining a stationary watch over Garqi and a slick-running organization like Agro Incorporated.

With Afdol Hilter abruptly leaving his posh position and leaving his presidential duties to a successor left the Empire (most notably Kaine and that Imperial Intelligence bitch Ysanne Isard, the old crone!) curious and meddlesome in their queries.

And now he's been recalled from Garqi and his friend Captain Yatta took his old charge of watching Agro and the Empire's interest in their shipments of agriculture foodstuffs.

Agro was growing rich off the Empire's increased demand. The Empire was saving money with the 'preferred pricing' it had negotiated and maintained with it's military presence and Yatta was now getting generous kick-backs from Agro to ensure relations between Empire and Garqi remain positive.

With the GLF presence now dead in the galaxy, there had been no need to come down heavy handed on Garqi for which Gutt was ever so thankful. He would have hated to cut off the kick-backs that had increased his personal wealth to amounts beyond his wildest dreams.

He was a very wealthy man and what do wealthy men desire most? More money.

The fact that Yatta would now benefit from what Gutt considered his 'hard work' irked the Imperial Captain-turned-Governor.

Now he was just a Captain.

And as the Predator entered Corsucant orbit, the holonet sprayed the airwaves with the exploits of Telan Desaria, Vice Admiral Kraken and a certain Captain Thorton (whoever the fuck he was).

He airways were silent about any exploits he might have participated in and for a moment, regret began to pull at his ego. He had been out on the Outer Rim for a long time. Too long by the stories on the holonets these days.


Still, the waves were also silent regarding Grand Moff Zell and Supreme Commander Kaine. Only their glorious Emperor Hyfe was given his due airtime.

He began to assume that being neglected like Zell and Kaine made him just as important as these figures.

He was Ortho Gutt after all.



*

He walked into the OG, his mouth watering. It had been quite a few months since he last graced the restaurant with his patronage and felt a stirring similar to that of returning to a familiar brothel.

Only this time, he didn't have a budget to watch.

Some cute waitress ran past him as he walked down the lobby and he stopped dramatically to appreciate her figure though she paid him no mind.

Let him order their most expensive dish and she'll notice him then. Most women were easy like that. They gravitated toward a man who had money and he did what he pleased because..well.. he had money.

His thoughts of the waitress died in his mind as he walked into the exclusive waiting room causing a cranky Azrael Zell to comment on his tardiness and a quiet Simon Kaine to turn around. The Supreme Commander's gaze was erie in it's silence. Only the slight nod of his head gave Gutt any indication that Kaine acknowledged his presence.

He felt a little fear for a thought ran through his mind unchecked.

Had he done something wrong?

Had he displeased somone higher up the promotion ladder than he?

He wondered if that was the case, why dine him at the OG? But he knew not to take such things for granted. You never knew with Kaine. He always did the unexpected.

Putting on a brave front, the coward-at-heart Gutt spoke out, "I hope the menu hasn't been decided without me."

Silence.

Then Zell let out a cackle at the comment pointing to fat Captain, "We know how you like to eat, Gutt. Your pants have enough room to fit an entire company and their whores."

Gutt laughed feebly at the Grand Moff's joke at his expense, suddenly feeling nervous.

Kaine's lips simply smirked at the remark and turned back around.

"Who are we waiting for?" the Captain asked, wanting to be in on the up-to-the-minute intel.

"Trachta, Ckeller, Moff Jaeder, and Seamus Arliss."

Very powerful people indeed.

Trachta was Governor of the Mechis Cluster Protectorate as well as head of COMPNOR. That effectively put him in charge of the ISB (Imperial Security Bureau) as well as the famed Jedi Corps.

Admiral Ckeller he only knew by reputation. Her gutsy defiance at Tralus was hailed as one of the motivations for turning away the failed Coalition attack in the Corellian System a few years ago. He did not know what she had done recently but apparently she still kept company with the greatest power brokers in the Empire.

Moff Jaeder was a contemporary of Zell's and both served on the same Star Destroyer at Endor. But that is where the similiarities end. In his personal life, unlike Zell, the old Moff Jaeder sat as patriarch over one of the most decorated and famous military families of the Empire. His son was an Admiral, his grandson a Captain famed for commanding the defense of Sullust against the Diversity Alliance attack. With the help of Imperial Intelligence, the attack was thwarted and the then Colonel Jaeder rose in the ranks.

And who didn't know Seamus Arliss, the CEO of Arliss Industries and founder of Arliss Towers on Muunilist. With the Towers under the firm thumb of his daughter, Jenice, Seamus went on to expand their companies intergalactic holdings. While not boasting the expansive capital of the largely successful Seth Vinda in the Corporate Sector, Arliss Industries has built a name for itself rivaling other companies under the Imperial thumb such as Kuat Drive Yards. It is no secret that Seamus Arliss keeps himself attached to the powerbase of the Empire and finances or contracts many of their program initiatives.


And then there was Ortho Gutt. A giant rotund starship captain that liked to hunt, drive his crew mercilessly while taking credit for any exploit, take advantage of women and gourmet dining. He was governor of Garqi, overseeing a company that had ties to the defunct GLF terrorist organization. It was a position mostly won for him by Imperial Intelligence. A position he took advantage of.

What made him suddenly a member of this exclusive group wielding great power within the Empire?

"Shall I get you something, sir?" a helpful voice intruded into his worries and he turned sharply towards it.

"Calamari! Delicately crisped!" he snapped out trying to hide his startlement and nervousness.

*Note to self: Don't write posts at 2 AM*

Re-write coming.

Sorry Simon. :(

Passing through all the other sections of the restaurant I am almost happy that I will be confined in the smallest section having to deal with only small groups of beings.

“Nokia, I need you.” I hear as I turn around the corner almost in anticipation of another complaint that needs dealing with.

“Nokia, we need to bump you into the ‘party’ section tonight. We have an overwhelming list of reservations and can’t possibly leave it up to one staff member. You don’t mind do you?”

Before I even get a chance to swallow air to reply the manager turns and whisks away. I can’t even keep up with who is manager and who is wait staff. If it weren’t for the distinct difference in dress code I am sure no one else who was relatively new would realize the difference either. One would think there would be some sullen hint of higher education but no, not evident in any sort of the manner.

My name tag still reads ‘Noky’ from the first day I started here. I’m not the only bad speller on this planet it seems. The management here is very thorough. I haven’t wanted to change it yet do to the overwhelming advantages it brings me. When a guest reads the name and calls it out needing my attention, since I don’t respond to that name I almost don’t notice them making any fuss at all. Also it works well with complaints against me, as well as requests for me. With 110% turn over the staff can’t even think to memorize peer, manager, busser, cook, or any other name for that matter.

My hopes sinking as I continue to walk pass the seating section that I was originally stationed, knowing the night just got a lot longer and shittier. I begin to day dream about my mother. She always reassured me that life would be better as I grew older. She must not have known the world that I would be living in and that she would no longer play an active role. Barley remembering the way she walked, or her voice as she sang. Only her face left an imprint on my mind that could never be erased.

My stomach turns again and I feel ill. Having the slightest stomach virus for the past five days has been much of a nuisance for my working habits. Management wouldn’t allow me to stay away even if I were highly contagious. Guaranteed a health code violation to allow someone who could pass on viruses to guests as well as fellow co-workers to continue working in such a state. The money is good and my status is obscure. Shying away from lavish parties and day light hours I have kept myself quite apart from the real world. It’s nice depending on ones self for survival since no one else is dependable, not even ones’ birth parents. Not knowing my father has built up quite a bit of animosity towards the male species as a whole. I always categorize men as brainless with in five seconds of noticing them. Wondering how long it will take before my prejudice is confirmed. Unfortunate for me that statistically the majority of clientele are male in some form or another. Maybe if I had some memory of a father figure my tendencies in life would be less imperfect. If I had some concrete memories rather then just dreams of my past I would be more defined as a person. But I am sure there is a reason for the things I can not remember. Most of my dreams are founded with such enlightenment of my past and then turn to disgusting nightmares of disillusionment. Refusing to write down my memories or piece them together I force myself to focus on work. Anything to help me move out of Harry’s place.

Harry’s place isn’t nice. It isn’t even not nice. You can’t even use the word nice when describing anything he owns even if using ‘not’. Hypocritically I own almost nothing, but work attire and a few rags. Saving is my highest priority, my most outward priority at least. Spending as little as possible as much as possible. Taking advantage of all complimentary meals and open available shifts as possible. Working until sleep is the only thing I crave, and sleeping until I am rejuvenated to start working again. Don’t know where my next occupation will be, just hopefully not in the food industry. Again I recall my mother, I don’t remember her having an occupation, but I do remember her taking hand outs. Her nicest gift was a residence; she was so excited when we moved. I remember that well. The dream of a new beginning and most of the time I’m aroused from that dream before it morphs into a nightmare. But I have imaginably conditioned myself into waking up periodically in the night. Paranoia is quite prominent with my developed instincts.

Reality hits me like the stars blistering heat as I walk into what should be an empty room waiting to be filled with large parties. A multitude of empty chairs arranged around what seems like an endless supply of tables. This will be one of the larger parties I will be forced to take this evening’s shift. I glance at the lobby and realize it is fuller then ever with men and of course drinking themselves into morbid idiots. I love dealing with drunken guests. My wit and tongue can almost be as sharp as I wish. Half the time their neighboring tables realize the insults I direct at them more readily then themselves. It’s quite nice, but on the other hand, time passes slower in their drunken state. Normally they place a food order and allow only five minutes to pass and start to become impatient with the wait and grow louder with anticipation. They just make themselves look more like asses the more they allow the drinks intoxicating fluid to dominate them. Indirectly it makes me almost want a drink after work. Well, as they say here at the OG ‘another day another credit’.

It had been a long time since Bhindi Drayson had left the security of Yaga Minor, the fortress-world that was the capital of the Ubiqtorate. The affairs of running what was now the largest and most powerful Protectorate within the Empire were best left to lesser figures, and of late it had been Trinity acting on her behalf who had travelled from one end of the galaxy to the other carrying out her orders. But who was to observe the Observer?

As the Acheron had entered Coruscant's orbit for the first time in nearly a year, the Grand Moff once again admired the strange beauty the capital represented. Now, entering the non-descript building that was known only as "The OG", she frowned. Coruscant was home to many thousands of different species, and the planet stank of it. Even buried in the exclusive Imperial Sector, the smell of thousands of alien lifeforms was in the air. And the establishment? It lacked the grandeur of the Ritalla back on Yaga Minor.

"Why Kaine chooses these bloody holes-in-the-wall for meetings I have no idea." She muttered to no one in particular, her armed escort being her only company this evening.

Kaine would of course be there tonight. He was, after all, the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces, and had called the meeting. So too would Zell, the crusty ex-Moff whose position Bhindi had stepped neatly into when it was decided the man was too old and feeble to continue to hold the office.

"Rumours, indeed." Drayson thought. It was not, contrary to popular belief, Zell that had started the rumour that Bhindi Drayson was pregnant. That idea had come from Yaga Minor itself: an excuse for the Grand Moff not to appear in public. Zell, of course, had been only too happy to believe and expound upon it: no doubt anyone asked would tell you that Drayson had given birth to a perfect Little Zell by now.

She laughed at that thought, and with that fleeting smile still on her lips stepped through the doors into "The OG".

Kaine was indeed there, and by his side was Zell. But it was neither of those men that got Bhindi attention. Standing somewhat nervously beside them was another man, nearly as fat as he was tall, and already stuffing his face with something epensive enough to belie the Captain's insignia on his chest.

"You must be Captain Ortho Gutt." She said, fixing her attention on him. There were few in the Empire that would not admit that Bhindi Drayson was a beautiful woman, and the charm had the desired affect on Gutt. He straightened, nearly dropping his calamari, and did his best to look impressive.

"I am, Grand Moff. I must admit it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Ma'am. I have heard much of your exploits."

The man is positively gushing! Maybe this night will not be entirely wasted after all...

"And I you, Captain. The way you brought Garqi into the Empire without spilling even a drop of blood. Noble."

Gutt beamed, as Bhindi knew he would, and she turned her attention to the Supreme Commander. She thought she detected a flicker of a smile on the man's lips, but Simon Kaine was much more difficult to read than Ortho Gutt.

"Bhindi," Kaine said, "a pleasure, as always."

Zell leaned over to the other man, and Drayson could have sworn she heard something like "Well, I guess the rumours aren't true then."

The Regent class destroyer Farstrider emerged from hyperspace into the Coruscant system. The sleek prow of the gleaming white vessel cut through space surronding the capital of the Empire as it headed into a preassigned upper orbit above the planet. Traffic was, as always, busy, with scores of other military, civilian, and commerical ships darting about. A constant stream of bulk freighters came down and back up into the planet, while shuttles, trams, and yachts made their ways back and forth from customs stations in orbit around the planet and back down below. When the destroyer had settled into her orbital pattern, a single shuttle and two TIE-2 fighters emerged from it's belly and headed down torwards the planet below.

Sitting near one of the viewports of the shuttle, Park Alexei Kraken looked out at the view of the planet and some of the other ships and stations orbiting it. He recognized the form of the Acheron, along with several other flagships, command vessels, and large warships, some of them visiting, others on permanent guard duty of the capital. If the military might gathered here were to collect and launch together in formation, he had no doubt that the capitals of either the Coalition or the Dragons would fall within hours. Then the shuttle descended through the shield and into the atmosphere of the planet. His wife Melina, sitting next to him, clasped his right arm as a little bit of turbulence began to shake the shuttle. Other passengers included Commodore Brand, and some officers and their families, either here on leave or to do buisness. Kraken's was a little bit of both. While he was going to show up at a dinner date uninvited, his wife was going to go shopping in company of the Commodore, to have some time off and to enjoy the heavy urbinization of Coruscant, a planet wide city, whereas Grand Isle back home on Vladet was only a few tens of miles in size.

Almost precisley thirty minutes later, Kraken was inside the resturant called the OG, dressed in the TNO dress uniform, a standard gray outfit and hat with black gloves and boots, but with his V-Admiral rank bars and military awards clasped on. He walked back torwards the private parties section, and came to a stop inside the entryway. He immediatley recognized Bhindi Drayson, Simon Kaine, and Moff Zell, either from the holograms or from personal experience. One person he did not know was a rather plump Imperial captian. Clasping his hat, taking it off, depositing it on a nearby hat rack, he offered a slight blow to each of the people he knew, and then shook the hand of the bulwark Imperial captian.

"I do not believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. Park Alexei Kraken." said Park, giving a good vigirous shake to his hand.

The reactor core within Ortho Gutt's stomach almost nearly went critical. A circumstance that would have blown out the imprisoned calamari within leaving a stain on his backside.

It was, of course, a situation warrantying a certain amount of understanding as he found himself conversing for the first time with two of the Empire's elite. Two people he knew could order his death on the spot and suffer nothing of consequence afterward.

The famous Governor Park Kraken and the infamous Grand Moff Bhindi Drayson. Understandably it was the latter that caught his attention. The woman looked superb in her uniform and her eyes could arrest the very soul of a man upon looking into them.

"You must be Captain Ortho Gutt." she said in that sexy sultry voice of hers. Hearing her voice in person rather than holonet was euphoric in itself.

His hands started to sweat and his plate of calamari nearly slipped from his grasp. He pushed the plate into an oncoming waiter. "Take care of that." he said imperiously and drawing himself to his full height (which, of course, was not very impressive), he replied, "I am, Grand Moff. I must admit it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Ma'am. I have heard much of your exploits."


What sort of exploits could you accomplish in bed?

Ortho's overactive imagination was getting the better of him. He had always figured himself the dominant one with every woman he took to bed (either willingly or unwillingly). Women were subclass creatures with a singular goal of pleasing whatever man that wanted them.

The Grand Moff... facing her and sensing the power of her personality... her ruthlessness.. was well.. intimidating. And an intimidated Ortho Gutt seemed like a situation perverse enough to cause ..well.. movement in the front of his pants.

"And I you, Captain. The way you brought Garqi into the Empire without spilling even a drop of blood. Noble."

It took all Captain Gutt's self control not to burst apart in both fear, perverse fascination, nervousness and absolute joy!

Then she turned to Kaine and Ortho was left with his thoughts all in a jumble.

But not for long as the Master of the Mid Rim came walking up, extending a hand.

"I do not believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. Park Alexei Kraken."

"Captain Ortho Gutt, ISD Predator, Governor of Garqi," Ortho said with all the pomp he could muster. A cheap imitation of exploits as he stared at the one man who seemed to have gone toe to toe with the Dragon Imperium and not blink.

With Bhindi Drayson!

Ortho nearly spasmed in anticipation.


The others arrived in good order and soon it was announced by the hosts and hostesses that the private room for Kaine and company was prepared and ready for seating.


Kaine turned to the owner of the OG, who had walked up to personally oversee the seating. "The conversation within is of the upmost top secret importance. I was full discretion.."

"Say no more." the owner said. "The room is shielded with dampeners within the walls to prevent dissemination and reassembly of harmonics for any type of long range listening devices. A modular sweeping device engages every fifteen minutes in case of short range listening devices.

They took their clients and patrons needs very seriously. In the entire history of the OG, there had only been one breach of their security and even then, it was not their fault. The Emperor Palpatine himself had ordered the shutdown of the OG's internal security systems. As it turned out, he was being followed by people in the employ of the Bothan Spy Network and the topic of conversation that afternoon in the OG was the location of a second Death Star being constructed in secret near Endor.

Many Bothans died as a result of that little move but even so, the owner of the OG knew his system and new it was second to none...with the exception of the Imperial Palace.

"I'll have the best on my staff to see to your needs, Supreme Commander." the owner said and Kaine nodded in acceptance.

When the Supreme Commander turned back to his business, the owner retreated back to the employee areas of the restaurant. "Nokia! I need you to help out with a private party!"

The reactor core within Ortho Gutt's stomach almost nearly went critical. A circumstance that would have blown out the imprisoned calamari within leaving a stain on his backside.

It was, of course, a situation warrantying a certain amount of understanding as he found himself conversing for the first time with two of the Empire's elite. Two people he knew could order his death on the spot and suffer nothing of consequence afterward.

The famous Governor Park Kraken and the infamous Grand Moff Bhindi Drayson. Understandably it was the latter that caught his attention. The woman looked superb in her uniform and her eyes could arrest the very soul of a man upon looking into them.

"You must be Captain Ortho Gutt." she said in that sexy sultry voice of hers. Hearing her voice in person rather than holonet was euphoric in itself.

His hands started to sweat and his plate of calamari nearly slipped from his grasp. He pushed the plate into an oncoming waiter. "Take care of that." he said imperiously and drawing himself to his full height (which, of course, was not very impressive), he replied, "I am, Grand Moff. I must admit it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Ma'am. I have heard much of your exploits."


What sort of exploits could you accomplish in bed?

Ortho's overactive imagination was getting the better of him. He had always figured himself the dominant one with every woman he took to bed (either willingly or unwillingly). Women were subclass creatures with a singular goal of pleasing whatever man that wanted them.

The Grand Moff... facing her and sensing the power of her personality... her ruthlessness.. was well.. intimidating. And an intimidated Ortho Gutt seemed like a situation perverse enough to cause ..well.. movement in the front of his pants.

"And I you, Captain. The way you brought Garqi into the Empire without spilling even a drop of blood. Noble."

It took all Captain Gutt's self control not to burst apart in both fear, perverse fascination, nervousness and absolute joy!

Then she turned to Kaine and Ortho was left with his thoughts all in a jumble.

But not for long as the Master of the Mid Rim came walking up, extending a hand.

"I do not believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. Park Alexei Kraken."

"Captain Ortho Gutt, ISD Predator, Governor of Garqi," Ortho said with all the pomp he could muster. A cheap imitation of exploits as he stared at the one man who seemed to have gone toe to toe with the Dragon Imperium and not blink.

With Bhindi Drayson!

Ortho nearly spasmed in anticipation.


The others arrived in good order and soon it was announced by the hosts and hostesses that the private room for Kaine and company was prepared and ready for seating.


Kaine turned to the owner of the OG, who had walked up to personally oversee the seating. "The conversation within is of the upmost top secret importance. I was full discretion.."

"Say no more." the owner said. "The room is shielded with dampeners within the walls to prevent dissemination and reassembly of harmonics for any type of long range listening devices. A modular sweeping device engages every fifteen minutes in case of short range listening devices.

They took their clients and patrons needs very seriously. In the entire history of the OG, there had only been one breach of their security and even then, it was not their fault. The Emperor Palpatine himself had ordered the shutdown of the OG's internal security systems. As it turned out, he was being followed by people in the employ of the Bothan Spy Network and the topic of conversation that afternoon in the OG was the location of a second Death Star being constructed in secret near Endor.

Many Bothans died as a result of that little move but even so, the owner of the OG knew his system and new it was second to none...with the exception of the Imperial Palace.

"I'll have the best on my staff to see to your needs, Supreme Commander." the owner said and Kaine nodded in acceptance.

When the Supreme Commander turned back to his business, the owner retreated back to the employee areas of the restaurant. "Nokia! I need you to help out with a private party!"