Flavorful
A TWILIGHT IMPERIUM 3^rd EDITION (Shattered Empire) PBeM

:: MAIN ::	:: MAP ::	:: SUMMARY ::	:: POLITICS ::	:: FLAVOR ::
:: CARDS ::	:: TECHNOLOGY ::	:: DISCARDS ::	:: RULES ::

:: PROLOGUE :: CHAPTER 1 :: CHAPTER 2 :: CHAPTER 3 :: CHAPTER 4 ::

:: CHAPTER 2 ::
:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 ::

Sociologists have noted many times throughout the recorded history of the galaxy that each of the great races has a similar expression or proverb in its language regarding that time in a planet's day just prior to when the terminator delineated by its parent star's powerful rays passes over any given stationary point on a planet's surface. The N'orr -- who worship Sardakk, the Queen Mother -- say: "Kkahleg um mlarra akk terrlan."  The Yssaril -- inhabiting the inaccessible places of their swamps -- have been rumored to ponder: "Shshruun thshuurussh sssh."  And the inhabitants of the Federation of Sol may say: "It is quietest before the dawn."  Each of these ruminations makes a similar point about the nature of a planet's ecology.  Just before a planet's star "rises", signifying the beginning of the planet's "day", the ambient noise level seems to reach a low ebb. So, too, in the macrocosm of the galaxy.  A half dozen of the great races strive to reestablish their glory.  In relative silence they move about, reclaiming lost territory, each hoping to herald the dawn of a new day for the galaxy.  But, as the residents of Jord might say, there will soon be a "crack of dawn", which can only mean pain and suffering for many members of these great races. When that happens, though, is far harder to predict... The swirling maelstrom that was the Alpha Wormhole filled the viewscreen.  Captain Zelt watched it intently.  To him it looked like a giant eye, staring into his fiery soul.  The wormhole had always fascinated the Gashlai; many of their ancient creation myths mentioned the phenomenon which could be seen as a large speck of light on the Muaat celestial sphere.  While the ancients saw them as a source of good, the Lavar had been sent there because of the possible evil it could bring... Ervana read the deciphered message from Gambrinus, the Mentak Ambassador at Mecatol:   "Our popular law has placed our Coalition in a great position. Now is the time to petition for the Speaker Chair. I advise that we proceed." Ervana was thinking that for a diplomat, Gambrinus could be straight and to the point when needed.   The law had raised the stock of both Yssaril and Mentak. Indeed she recalled seeing excerpts from a speech by Admiral Sskril. He seemed quite energized by the commissioning of his new Dreadnought.  Speaker? Not a bad idea she concluded. But who will have the floor?     Gambrinus addressed the Assembly.   "We would like to thank our fellow ambassadors for their vote of confidence," he said ingratiatingly.  After a lengthy pause, he continued, "And now we would like to call to the podium the honorable representative from Muatt..." All commotion in the chamber came to a standstill as the Gashlai ambassador, clad in his Ember suit, moved ponderously forward to the podium.  Gambrinus, the Mentak representative, nervously smiled as he waited to officially transfer control of the floor to the being from Muaat.  As the man (? woman? thing?) approached, the temperature of the immediate area rose in proportion, causing beads of sweat to burst out on Gambrinus' forehead. "I accept your invitation," the Gashlai said formally in that unnaturally gravelly and processed voice, allowing Gambrinus to scamper back to his seat.  The Gashlai turned to address the chamber.  "My fellow representatives and ambassadors.  My people have dealt with oppression for an untold number of years.  The machinations of each of the races seem designed to inflict a heavy toll on lives and resources in the coming years."  He paused for effect, each representative hanging on his words.  "We must not allow the galaxy to descend further into war.  The empire must be reestablished as soon as possible!" All in the chamber recognized this as a vote of confidence, a way to recognize the legitimacy of several races at once.  But two races -- Mentak and Letnev -- had already elevated themselves in stature in recent months with their discoveries of the ancient artifacts of the Lazax armory and legendary precursor fossil.  None of the other races who had genuine aspirations to the empire wanted to further assist Mentak and Letnev, though this would mean dooming the galaxy to the bloody war that the Gashlai ambassador had apparently hoped to avert. The avalanche of "nays" was almost overwhelming. The small Winnaran council that met every few days on Mecatol Rex was noticibly concerned.  They had just received word that the L1z1x warships were advancing closer to Mecatol.  It wasn't a large contingent, but the Winnarans began to wonder if their former masters were planning on taking the planet by force.  For now, however, they could only wait and wonder. The people of Perimeter didn't seem too disturbed by the L1z1x troops.  Perhaps they were ready to receive their former emperors as well.  In any case, the L1z1x seemed to suspect something about the planet.  Perhaps it wasn't Mecatol that they were after at all... at least not yet. They still had not heard from the custodian they sent to [0.0.0] for some weeks.  They had received some status updates, and news that only strengthened the L1z1x claim of being descendants of the Lazax.  But news of their culture was sparse.  It was almost as if the custodian was deliberately holding information.  Most races had, early in their development, noticed a repeating cycle on their planet.  Whether they understood this was the result of their planets orbit around a star or not this phenomenon was inevitably defined.  The human’s called this a Year.  One of the great races, however, had no such word in their native tongue.  The Letnev’s unique planetary situation had never resulted in them defining such a cycle as such cycles do not exist on Arc Prime.  The Ao growth did not change with the passage of time, it was a constant that gave and sustained life.  A substance as close to divinity as anything could be to these dark dwelling people.  However, when the Lazax rose to power and established an empire of peace and trade between so many different races it became necessary to have a standard of time.  A Galactic standard was born, based on the local time of Mecatol Rex as defined by the Lazax.  Now, with the formation of a new Galactic Council the Letnev were compelled to adopt, once again, these foreign standards and concepts for communication and dealings with the other races.   I gazed out across the vast chamber with fierce pride.  Hundreds more of my people had completed their training and were arrayed in strict formation being addressed by the Baron before they officially began their commissions.  The desire to stay for the ceremony was great but I needed to leave, I was due on a ship heading to Wren Terra to oversee the final stages of construction on the new Space Port.  Key materials had largely been supplied from Arc Prime, transported there via returning food freighters over the last two years. “Sir, your ship is ready to depart now.” I nodded, turned, and strode out. Following the successful invasions of Qucen'n and Rarron, Master Agents Ssruu and Thilinn were recalled to the Yssaril home worlds.  Admiral Sskyrll boards the new dreadnaught Foul Thunder. The Yssaril Tribal Council needs to secure the system from potential defections. His fleet includes some destroyer escorts. Thinking to himself, Sskryll muses: "A new fleet will need to be constructed. The galaxy is a dangerous place. Peace with our neighbors through trade agreements is a friendly gesture but what of the rest of the races?  Already our neighbors are vastly more powerful, militarily speaking, than us. What if the trade agreements are not enough to keep the peace? Our meager economy is no match to the Baron's. And our navy doesn't have War Sun technology (yet)." Private First Class Johnny Rico snapped to attention with the rest of the platoon on the launch deck of the transport.  Sergeant Min slowly walked down the line, inspecting combat gear in this last step before hitting the beach.  Johnny didn't know why the infantry always called planet-side "the beach" anyway; Mirage didn't even have any surface water, let alone beaches.  But if Min said it was a beach, then Johnny wasn't going to argue with him. Sergeant Min stopped in front of Johnny and glared up at him with those beady, piercing eyes of his.  Min was only about five-and-a-half feet tall, but was almost that wide at the chest.  Johnny was convinced Min could throw a Sardakk N'orr through a wall if he wanted to. "Your first time hitting the Beach, right, Rico? "Yes Sergeant."  Johnny was standing straight as a rail, wondering when Min was going to move on. Min leaned over to him and said quietly, "Just stick with Johanssen like I told you and remember your training, and you'll do fine.  The cap troopers have already landed and are reporting minimal resistance.  Probably won't be too much to do down there anyway." Min moved on and Johnny could feel the tension leaving his body.  The sarge must have picked up on how nervous he was; it was rare for him to say anything to him that didn't involve some kind of butt-chewing.  His combat gear must have checked out OK. This thought of landing on Mirage and maybe having people shooting at him was really freaking him out.  Johnny wondered if it was going to be like this every time.

:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 ::

Gambrinus looked at the decyphered message.  "Mmmmhhh. The Hand sure's got me busy. Does she think the Galactic Council is the Table of Captains?  Well, we have to do what we have to do."  He called his assistant.  "Convene the council for an emergency session!"   The next day all the ambassadors and representatives were wondering what the matter was. Why is old Gambrinus gathering us so suddenly? There was indeed a special buzz felt into the overcrowded room. Finally Gambrinus took the stand.  "Fellow Ambassadors, Honorable Delegates. ... Technology! Technology is the Key to our future.  And therefore we put forward a special law.  The first vote goes to the Honorable representative from the Lazax. ..." The custodian was beginning to get worried.  His time to leave was drawing near,  yet he had heard nothing from the outside to indicate when and where to meet his shuttle. All around him, the planet seemed to bustle with increased activity and fervor.  It looked like the L1Z1X were indeed ready to reclaim what they felt to be theirs.  The custodian had not seen the youth for some time now.  Perhaps he, too, was caught up in the bustle. Whatever was happening, the custodian felt his time had come to leave.  The question was, how was he going to accomplish this? Tsion’s vast interior teems with the people of a dozen and more different cultures, a population that has grown ever larger since the massive influx of refugees during the final days of the former empire.  Once - and now again - a centre for trade and commerce, there is a constant flow of all manner of freight, information and people through the station.  Unfortunately for the Letnev not all of these people are law abiding, and the station houses many nooks and crannies for the unsavoury to hide in.   They were right to bring this to my attention.  Somewhere between Retillion and Arc Prime a full tonne of much needed produce had gone missing.  All the paper work seemed to be in order at every step of the long journey, all the appropriate seals remained intact and yet, the fact that it was missing was undeniable. It was done so flawlessly – it had taken weeks of tracking and examination just to narrow it down to Tsion.  This was no mere robbery of opportunity, this was the work of a highly skilled, very organised group.  It made sense that a place like Tsion would have such groups and that not everyone would be happy with the new strictures placed upon the station by our occupation.  Yet, I couldn’t help wondering if there wasn’t a larger force acting against us ... one of the other great races sabotaging our expansion. Admiral Sskryl takes a sabbatical on Shalloq, resting near the swamps of Venqua City. He reads from the Sacred Scrolls with the monks there: Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved Shalloq and heaven; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. Corporal Johnny Rico had his nose pressed against the shuttle window, taking in the sight of Jord as the shuttle descended towards the naval base at Quito.  The shuttle had to keep dodging swarms of fighters on training exercise from the nearby massive fleet carriers Thor and Odin, which made for an eventful ride down. Everywhere Johnny looked he could see how the defenses of the Jord system had been built up since he last saw home.  The Federation was sure working hard to get ready for something.  Johnny wasn't sure what it was but it had something to do with the Imperial claim.  Hopefully they could do it without him for a while; after the Mirage invasion he was ready for a vacation.

:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 ::

"Very good gentlemen.  Proceed with your individual assignments as planned." Three small holographic figures bowed as one and flickered out of existance.  Sushon Azh quickly rose from his seat and left the close confines and official recordings of the personal office of the High Fire Warden.  His destination wieghed heavily upon his mind. Lately thoughts of the solarius stone had engulfed Azh's mind.  He found himself lusting more and more for the experience of having his consiousness contact the swirling ether that revealed many things, yet shrouded others.  He would wake up in the night and have to restrain himself from leaving his heatslab and seeking out the stone.  The only time he felt fully focused was right after recieving the visions and carrying out the steps necessary to fullfil the destiny which the stone had shown him. Placing his hand on the pedastal, the entrance to the solarius stone's chamber opened.  Azh stared at its pulsating brilliance with the same awe he had when he had discovered it as nothing more than a simple archeologist studying pre-Hylar Gashlai culture.  As soon as he touched the glimmering stone his mind had been fillied with many things previously unkown to him.  Knowledge of things he had never actually seen, glimpses of possible futures, the feelings and motivations of certain people, these were all things that Azh had gained from the solarius stone.  The only price for this seemed to be an intense desire, a need to touch and commune with the stone itself. For victory, it was a price Sushon was willing to pay. Admiral Havvat woke up in a stupor. She could hear a series of loud noises outside her cabin. Her first thought was: The Jol Nar are attacking! However as the cobwebs cleared she remembered that the Jol Nar had renounced their claim to the Imperial throne after the Muaat had launched their legendary War Sun.  "Admiral Havvat," said a voice through the door. "Special orders from the Table of Captains."   Well at least the young ensign had stopped banging on the door.   Admiral Havvat didn't even bother to put on her uniform. She got up from her bunk by moving the two "creatures of the night" away from her.  "Hmm.  Two of them," she mumbled.  "I don't remember two of them...?" She read the order. It wasn't even coded.  "Well I guess everyone was at it last night. Then again we're still on Moll Primus."   From: Table of Captains To : Admiral Havvat Immediately sail out with flagship Mecatol's Curse to rendezvous with force from Vega System and ensure defense of construction site on Rigel III.    Havvat tried to concentrate on the message but as more memories from the previous night came into her mind, her concentration wavered.  Indeed, the night before an expedition usually turns into quite a mess for Mentak sailors.  There is Garbozian wine to drink as well as other unmentionable things that grow only on Retilion. And they had a full container of that good stuff!  Allegedly "acquired" somewhere around Trade Station Tsion.  Ah those forbidden things! Why are they always a little bit stronger, a little bit sweeter...?   The strange trinary signal, which was lately becoming almost commonplace in the past few years, once again blared throughout the galaxy.  Though the L1Z1X communications were now encrypted with an unknown cipher, it was simple to determine where it was coming from: Tequ'ran. A L1Z1X shuttle landed on the planet, and out stepped 148S, his cold eyes glowing.  The colonists still feared these intruders, but had come to accept them.  Thus far, the cyborgs had been true to their word; they did not interfere in the colonists' daily lives, so long as the colonists did not stand in the way of the Mindnet. The research facility on Tequ'ran had recently been upgraded; while it was once dedicated to researching warfare, the L1Z1X had insisted that diversity in research was the key to rediscovering the lost technologies of the Hylar.  148S was sent to oversee this transition.  High in the atmosphere of the planet, on his descent, 148S had inspected a newly created Space Dock.  Normally an expensive endeavor, 148S has used his specifically-designed quantum processor nodes to find more efficient ways to build it, and his final inspection was merely that of formality; he already knew that it was the pinnacle of perfection, an emblem of the L1Z1X race itself. Admiral Sskryl hears the glorious news from the Galactic Council: the rest of the galaxy has conceded to limits on covert ops. Such limitations surely will not affect Yssaril's agents in the field. Admiral Sskryl walks down the corridor near the R&D lab. Boisterous sounds from the lab are spilling out into the hall. Sskryl walks in to see what the commotion is.  The engineers and scientists scurry as the admiral walks in, composing themselves quickly.  In a thoughtful and quiet voice, the Admiral asks, "Why the ruckus, gentlemen?" One of the scientists answers: "One of our spies downloaded some information from the last Jol Nar vessel we've come in contact with. Using that information, we have been able to reverse engineer—" "Get to the point!" the admiral says curtly. "We've discovered Hylar laser technology! This tech will retrofit all of our cruisers and destroyers. Plus this technology will open up further avenues of technological exploration!" The admiral maintains his composure and says, "Carry on, gentlemen."  He walks back to his office in an almost ecstatic mood. Lieutenant Bismark put his pen down and rubbed his eyes.  He hated all this darn paperwork!  The naval bureaucracy was terrible; the forms he had to review to order the new flux capacator for the Lohan's number two warp engine took over an hour alone. It was something that just had to be done, he supposed.  Organizing the information to efficiently run an interstellar empire was hard and unglamorous work; there was no easy way around it.  The Winnarian Custodians were supposed to be impressed with this stuff too; any race that could produce endless tons of paper seemed to appeal to the Winnu and got you more pull inside the Imperial bureaucracy.  The Federation was already running the affairs for five planets other than Jord, which brought more senate representation and Imperial favors. Still, Bismark found himself wishing for something more interesting to happen soon.  The invasion of Mirage had turned out to be a dud, a peaceful annexation instead of the resistance some were expecting.  And the Lohan was just wrapping up a patrol guarding against the Mentak pirates, which was also uneventful.  Bismark heard that the Letnev had some problems with Mentak raids, but so far the pirates had not made it to Federation space.  Hopefully the luck would hold out. Speaking of endless paperwork, Bismark stared at the pile of forms he had to fill out for the promotion board.  After this patrol was done he would do a tour on Jord, and then he was eligible for promotion.  If they promoted based on how many papers you shuffled around on your desk, Bismark figured he was a shoo-in.

:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 ::

"Sir, scans of the planet indacate something unusual." General Umbat sat upright at the news.  The War Sun's sensors had been monitoring the masses of commercial and private ships entering and leaving the Primor system.  It was already a strategic position due to its proximity to Mecatol Rex and the access to the vast numbers of mercenary soldiers that frequented the planet. "What is it that is so unusual about the readings?" "I can not say sir, there is a lot of interference.  I am sure that our troops will be able to get better readings on the ground." "Very well.  Tell the Embers to prepare for the invasion.  I suspect that these sell-swords will not put up too much of a fight when they realize we are willing to pay..." Meta-Baston was one of the most powerful members of the Table of Captains. An experienced navigator, he had forged his mettle crossing Ablution's Edge aboard a destroyer with a skeleton crew. More importantly, he was considered a master strategist, skilled in the art of languages, always looking at the big plan, and often one step ahead of the other Captains. Meta-Baston never lost his cool even in the most dire situations and as such he was nicknamed Gentil-Baba; "The Gentle One."  More a description of his outer demeanor than a description of what happened to his enemies. A lot of his power around the Table came from his role as chief of "The Organization," the underground far-reaching network which had outposts all around the Galaxy.  "The Organization" dealt not as much in information as the fabled network of the Yssaril, but rather more on the "commercial" side of things: goods appropriation, funds re-routing, etc.  "The Organization" was responsible for the Mentak Coalition's source of foreign revenue, and with the resurgence of trade due to the races mobilizing, the network was very busy. Meta Baba was poring over decoded messages and reports. A  seemingly mundane report from Trade Station Tsion drew his attention.  An operative had been called in for questioning by the Barony's Internal Security Office, the dreaded 5th Directorate which was rumored to be under direct orders of reknowned Knight Commander Sir Urqan Zi`el.  Although the operative's cover appeared to have held up under questioning, Meta Baba knew better. Once the Barony's ISO got a sniff of you, it was just a question of time, especially with Zi'el around. This operative would have to be extracted or ... sacrificed.  Too bad, Meta Baba thought. We got some good stuff from Tsion.   Most of it had been sold on the market, and the money raised had been used to commission two more brigades and a destroyer, the Suhail, named after the very destroyer he used in his fabled crossing of Ablution's Edge.  How poetic, he thought. The Trade Station Sumerian continued to bustle with activity, despite the persistent L1Z1X patrols.  Even the smugglers on Arcturus seemed to have adapted to the new control of the system.  They barely noticed the dreadnought that was in orbit over the planet, and even the fleet of shuttles that landed on the planet a significant military force didn't seem to worry them; as long as they didn't get in the way of their "masters," they knew they had little to fear. What they didn't see, however, was a hooded figure that seemed to always know what was going on, and where to be.  To them, he seemed like just another smuggler.  What his true purpose was, however, they had little idea.

:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 ::

Magmus gazed at the holographic image of the lodinium mines.  Located under twenty meters of ice, the mines had already proven to be a valuable asset for Muaat.  Magmus longed for the intense heat of his homeworld; the sub-zero tempreatures of Bereg had begun to aggravate him.  Already he had commissioned the upgrade of the control center's heating equipment, and for them to be set to their maximum output.  For the glory of his people, though, Magmus would endure eternal cold. The High Fire Warden had entrusted him with the mission to Jol after the War Sun was built.  It was now his duty to watch over this stellar system, containing both Lirta IV and Bereg, which undoubtedly was one of the most valuable systems in the entire galaxy.  It would one day be the heart that would drive the High Fire Warden's plans forward, and it was time to get that heart beating. Entering the proper codes into the computer in front of him, the holographic image flashed from the mines to two large space docks obviously under construction but near completion.  The ETA of the remainder of the fleet was also displayed.  Soon this control center would extend well beyond the confines of the lodinium mines. In the distance Magmus could hear the howls of the arctic sharaks and wondered if all the new industrial development the planet had undergone could increase the planet's heat enough to make them extinct. Ervana was trying to concentrate on the book before her.  She had trouble doing so however.  Heading up the Table of Captain was not an easy job, especially as a direct descendent of Erwan Mentak.  All that pressure on being The Hand.  "I need to learn about all these races! Knowledge is power!" She willed herself to concentrate and picked up the text again:   Translation of the Yssaril Sacred Scrolls...   Book 1, Chapter 3, verses 9 through 16 Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are--- One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."   "Wow! Heavy stuff! This will take me a while, a long while..." As the Winnaran Custodian finally made his preparations to return to Mecatol, he took one last look around the strange city of the L1Z1X.  He hoped that his return flight would be uneventful.  Though he had been on [0.0.0] for several years now, much of that was the L1Z1X not allowing him to leave; their cold efficiency prohibited wasting even the small amount of resources needed to fly a shuttle home. He was convinced at this point that the L1Z1X were indeed who they claimed.  However, what he would not tell them is that who they once were would not convince those who are waiting for the Lazax to return; the L1Z1X WERE the Lazax... but they are NOT the Lazax now. As he took off, unknown to him he was being watched.  Deep inside the heart of the city, someone knew all about the Custodian and what he was there for and waited for the custodian to give his report, dry as it would be. The unknown watcher smiled, though if anyone had seen it, they would not have known whether it was a smile of pleasure, anticipation, guile, or something more sinister. Every nation, race and culture does or has done certain things that might be considered morally incorrect to the vast population of the galaxy at large.  The Letnev, already personifications of cold, hard Arc Prime, are not exempt from this rule. The Internal Security Office exists to deal with situations outside the usual purview of the Letnev's vast bureaucratic network.  Within the ISO there are five Directorates.  The first four directorates' responsibilities lie in the fields of information gathering, creative misdirection, espionage, counter espionage - in short, the usual gamut of vaguely distasteful activities that most advanced civilizations acknowledge as necessary but hypocritically condemn.  And then there is the 5th...  It is best not to dwell on the 5th Directorate or their methods but it would not be unfair to say that once you were in their hands your fate would not be decided by a jury of your peers.   I sat at a table, sipping Ao wine, waiting for a report from the ISO.  As I waited I thought back on the last couple of years.  On the surface it had not been very eventful.  Reports from the Office of Extraterrestrial Management claimed that all Reunified assets were showing no signs of dissension and production was at expected levels.  Expansion of the military was continuing nicely.  The biggest and most pleasing event by far was the recent breakthrough our scientists had made affecting our all-purpose interstellar carriers, they now matched or surpassed all the other great races' ships in that class.  The Office of Engineering and Manufacture had already seen to it that existing carriers had been retrofitted with the new systems.  The only thorns in my side right now were the Office of Reunification - they were making a fuss about lack of new reclamations, which made it seem like we had made little progress after our initial push; I would have to do something about them - and the disappearance of part of  the Yssaril shipment. “Lord Knight,” issued a deep, quiet voice from behind me.  I had not heard the man approach but I managed to suppress any startled reactions.   “I have much news on the matter you tasked us with." “Good,” I replied, “Join me, Sir Knight.  Tell me all.” Sir Daqan was a giant of a man, tall and broad of shoulder.  Head of the 5th Directorate and charged by me to resolve the Tsion trade theft matter after more traditional investigations had failed. Daqan moved around and lowered his massive frame into a chair across from me.   “A group called 'The Organization' was responsible.  We have traced the roots of this organisation back to a planet called Moll Primus.” He slid a data pad across with a  report from the Office of Historical Events which showed Moll Primus was a prison planet of the Lazax Empire. “Moll Primus is registered with the Galactic Council as the home planet of the Mentak," he stated.  “We do not have proof of a link between The Organization and the Mentak.”  He emphasised the word "proof" slightly.  It was clear what he believed, but he could give me nothing that would allow public accusation. “I see.”  I replied, thoughtfully.  “I want you to keep an eye on this organisation.  I want to know who they answer to, and I don't want any more freight to go missing.” “As you command, Lord Knight.”  He rose and left the room.

:: END OF CHAPTER 2 ::
:: PROLOGUE :: CHAPTER 1 :: CHAPTER 2 :: CHAPTER 3 :: CHAPTER 4 ::