Flynn leaned the heel of one hand against the top of the console, gripping an orange mug of caf in his other hand. "So Draco is on his way to Engineering?"

"Presumably, sir," Darktrayn's voice replied, sounding muffled and modulated by the scrambler they were using. "I gave him instructions on disabling the primary transfer coupling ... they're going to have a mess on their hands when they attempt to jump to hyperspace. And if I may add, so will we if we can't get the hell out of here soon."

Flynn nodded to himself, struggling to keep every facet of the battle straight in his sleep-deprived brain. "Will that force her Captain to withdraw?"

"Well, it's going to rip a hole through most of the lower decks, and cause some decent delay, to be sure."

"All right. There's no prisoners on the ship yet, right?"

"Well that's the other problem, Commander. We've got ... at least one thousand or so prisoners here. When this thing blows, they could still get them out of the system. And even if they can't make a backup jump, they're going to try to get them out of here with the shuttles. I'm also thinking ... how we're going to get out of here without getting blasted on our way down."

Arkwright rubbed the top of his head, then leaned forward against the console again. "Well, we can scramble the pilots to cover you if need be on whatever ship you fly out of there, but we can't let the Empire leave with those prisoners. If they get back to Dr. Cerebus he'll be able to complete the trooper project with or without Morricon."

His chief engineer's voice spit back at him across space. "In our current situation, I see only one solution to that problem."

"I'm all ears, Lieutenant."

"If the concussion in this ship doesn't kill us all first, then I'll drop the hangar containment field."

He paused with the mug halfway to his lips, blinking a few times.

"Let me get this straight first. You're going to space all the prisoners?"

"I know that isn't the decision you'd like to make, Commander, but I don't see any other way. Additionally, there will be enough commotion on the exterior to let us slip past unnoticed. Unless you can come up with something I can't think of here."

Arkwright hadn't really heard the Lieutenant's reply. He stood up, then leaned his weight back against the opposite console, looking down at the mug in his hand.

The orange enamel was crossed by a web of fine cracks where it had been glued back together. His thumb traced one of the lines around the mug, feeling the hairline edge, while his thoughts followed their own line back through time. Back to memories of past missions ...

"... do it," he said at length.

For an equally long moment, his only reply was the surprised background hiss of the scrambler.

"... yes, Commander."

Flynn looked out at the blue-green planet spinning beneath them.

"Additionally, sir, they may try to tractor prisoners back in if the systems aren't destroyed in the concussion. You'll want to make sure the fighters are prepared to do whatever neccessary to prevent that from happening."

He shook his head, even though Darktrayn couldn't see it. "They'll freeze solid within seconds. I don't think they'll be of much use to the Doctor after that happens."

"Yessir. Meanwhile, I'm going to wait here until Draco finishes his work. If he doesn't make it in time, I will carry out this order while the ship is in hyperspace. I don't know what will happen when they return. Let's just hope he ..." There was an alarming pause.

"I need to go, over and out." With an electronic squink, the hissing fell silent.

Arkwright took a deep breath, still absent-mindedly thumbing the cracks in the mug.

"May the Force be with you, Dak."

The battle continued, and presently, the shimmer of a cloud of frozen gas and a myriad of tiny forms spiralling away from the Judicator was reflected in his clear blue eyes.

---

"Sir, B crew has finished the aft plate reinforcements on the ship, and my division is relaxing the shield coils. It'll take some time; you've gotta be gentle with them after all."

"That's great news, Ensign," Dakron replied as he downloaded the last of the crew reports. "All ready for tomorrow's celebration I'm sure, Ensign Malloy?"

"You bet, Lieutenant." Malloy grinned. "Yiplik has a bottle of Cambrian Wine he's been saving for a moment like this. I'm sure he'll be happy to pour you a glass."

"Oh, I don't know, Ensign. That's not my taste."

"Well, suit yourself, Lieutenant," said Malloy as he noticed the Lieutenant's rather blank expression. "Hey, cheer up Lieutenant, what's eating you?"

Dakron managed a smile, "Oh...nothing Ensign. Nothing."

"Come on now, sir," said Malloy as he knelt down to Dakron's seated height. "Did something go wrong on your mission?"

"It went fine, Ensign."

"Sir, that must have been intense. I can't imagine doing something like that! You should be one proud officer, if I may say so. I mean - by god! A Star Destroyer! It's not every day someone makes one of those bastards go belly up. I'm surprised Rebel HQ isn't pressing your for intel. How in blazes did you figure that one out anyway?"

Dakron let out a gentle laugh. "Oh, well Ensign, there's still some things you probebly don't know about me."

The ensign grinned and knocked the Lieutenant on the shoulder gently. "Well cheer up sir, Maybe we'll be able to get something out of you tomorrow."

"We'll have to wait and see, Ensign," said Dakron. "Now why don't you get back to your crew, you're doing a fine job."

"Yes sir!" said the ensign, and as they both saluted, he left the catwalk and proceeded to the decks below.

Dakron let out a sigh. He didn't feel right. Not right because he felt nothing at all. He shot over one-thousand civilians into space to their deaths that day, but felt no remorse for any of it. He should feel something, he thought. But he didn't. He didn't care. After losing everything you care about, you must lose the will to care at all for anyone, he thought. It made no sense though. Not to him. He shook his head and went back to his work.

A tall figure appeared in the door, holding a mug.

"Lieutenant," he said.

"Commander," Dakron raised his eyebrows with a wry smile, then proceeded to salute. "I don't see you here very often." He finished adjusting a few controls on the data terminal before focusing full attention on the commander.

The Commander waved him back to his work with a gloved hand. "At ease. I'm usually in here a lot. Just haven't had the time as of late." He approached and leaned his weight against a bulkhead.

"Of what service can I be to you, sir?"

"I'm only here to congratulate you on a job well done, Dakron. Very well done."

Dakron nodded slowly, as if contemplating if the whole statement was indeed accurate, running the events through his mind, and then making a final decision. "Yes, it proved successful," he finally stated. He stared forward for a moment, again in thought, before he turned to Commander Arkwright. "Success always comes at a price, though doesn't it?" he stated with the same uneasy smile.

The Commander sighed unexpectedly. "Always ... success only comes if you're willing to pay for it."

He took a contemplative sip from his cracked orange mug.

Dakron let out a breath of unsettled laughter. "I've heard that from someone once before," he said as he looked down at his crew from the catwalk. The two stood there for a moment before Dakron spoke up again. "What is your definition of success, Commander?" he asked.

Arkwright's eyes were also resting on the crew below them. Swallowing, he said, "I sometimes have trouble figuring that out. If you want to know what I think, though ... it's the greater good."

A moment passed, until it seemed to Dakron that the man wasn't going to elaborate any further unless prompted.

"So the deaths of those civilians ... was that for the 'greater good'?"

The other man seemed to need to build up the nerve to answer. "Yes. It saved the other billion still on the planet ... what's more important, it saved the hundreds of billions on other planets that Cerebus' prime stormtroopers would have slaughtered if the project succeeded."

Looking back up at his chief engineer, he added, "Like they say, 'The needs of the many ... '"

Dakron looked at Arkwright differently now. The commander's heart was faded, his vigor subdued. "The Empire fights for the 'greater good,'" Dakron challenged in a mannered tone. "What makes you so different, Commander. What makes the rebellion so different?"

"The Empire fights for its own good, Darktrayn. Not the greater. The Empire considers the needs of the few over the many."

He turned back to the bustle of repair below. "The Judicator's captain would have spaced those prisoners as soon as they were finished with them, but he doesn't pay a price. We pay for those thousand lives every day of our own. That's what makes us different."

"I do not mean to challange you, Commander. I believe you have just intentions," said Dakron as he observed Arkwright's expession with a subtle gaze of that of a medic observing abnormalties. "I suppose I ask because you seem colder ... more distant." Dakron grinned slightly. "You should be parading as as victor, not consolidating with my lonely state. Surely it can't be just this situation that is getting you down ..."

Arkwright nodded, fingering the mended cracks in his mug in a telltale fashion, and let out an unsettled laugh of his own. "Oh, but it is. I ... I've made mistakes in the past that make decisions like this weigh all the more heavily for me. Paying for victory with lives has given me pause ever since." Straightening and downing the last gulp of caf from the mug, he added with his geniune smile, "There will be plenty of parading tomorrow."

Dakron smiled and nodded, pausing for a moment to think. "Do you really think there's a 'greater good,' Commander?"

"Well, of course I do. You see it every day, in all these men's faces. They're all here for a reason - homeworlds, loved ones, things they've lost, things they've gained. There's good if you know where to look."

Dakron released his grip on the catwalk bars, his mind in thought over the Commander's words. "Maybe I haven't been looking hard enough," he stated, as if now it seemed more clear.

Arkwright turned back as well. "Maybe you haven't." Reaching across and bumping Dakron's shoulder with the mug, he said, "Looking forward to another tour of duty with you, Lieutenant."

Dakron smiled. "The same to you sir."

He gripped Arkwright's arm, pulling him back. "And for the record sir, I know there may have been some misconceptions between us in the past ... " He grinned, knowing something Arkwright hadn't thought he knew, "but I am determined that we can make amends." He looked over to the other side of the catwalk.

"And additionally, I am hoping you are quite pleased with the current state of operation in this department. I am determined to have this crew in the highest state of order." He gazed proudly over this area with personal approval. "You do not observe this area as much as you should. I will take you through the entire operation I have now organized sometime. I am sure you will be quite pleased."

"I'm sure I will be. The ship hasn't run so cleanly since Atticus left. With all the ... administrative things I've had to deal with I've had to leave most of the engineering responsibility up to you, but you've performed admirably. That's why you made Lieutenant so quickly."

"Thank you sir. I just thought this department needed some additional discipline. Atticus was a fine engineer, but when push came to shove, the crew wasn't prepared enough. I run simulations routinely now, and have created a chain management solution so that every crew member is aware of thier specific responsibilities, and it runs near flawless." He noticed some officers waiting patiently on the other side of the catwalk. "But, I do not wish to bore you, Commander, and I do seem to have some things to attend to." He smiled, and saluted the Commander with respect. "We will be seeing you all tomorrow."

"Absolutely," he replied, flipping the salute back lazily, and turned to leave, his orange mug dangling from one finger.