“We need the room!”  Antigony Bhast’s voice cracked like a gunshot. The darkened bed chamber erupted with the sound of two seperate female screams and a male curse that would have curdled milk. The lights flicked on to reveal an oppulent boudir of vast proportions, walls hung with expensive hand woven tapestries, each one of which might have been a craftsman’s masterwork. The centerpiece of the room was a large bed covered with luxurious Quantiri velvet.  Atop the bed were three naked figures in various states of shock. One was the Countessa of Chandrapore, her pale white hair still piled in a fashionable beehive, was on all fours, naked, save for an expensive necklace with a vast silver-white star crystal that swung ponderously back and forth like a metronome before her impressive breasts. Behind her, paused in mid thrust, was the muscular form of Alexius Tan, his face mottled in rage, confusion and stymied lust. A second woman, a red head, of great beauty but more common stock and with more of an innate sense of modesty, was snatching up a pillow to cover her own considerable charms.

“We need the room,” Bhast repeated, her tone much altered from a heart beat before. She paused in the doorway, blocking the advance of the squad of soldiers behind her in order to maintain her Emperor’s dignity. The Contessa straightened, glaring daggers at Bhast for interrupting her rendezvous.  Though the general was a seasoned enough politician not to show anything other than steely calm, she was woman enough that her loins tightened at the view of the naked and furious aristocrat.

“Out,” Tan commanded both women, his hand sliding off the Contessa’s sculpted rump as she straightened and stalked towards a side door. The redhead, less poised, bolted for a similar door on the other side of the chamber, leaving the general and the self styled Emperor alone in the bed chamber. 

“This,” the Duke began in a cold dry voice, “Had better be good Antigony.” His voice was measured and cultured, the kind of voice one imagines issuing orders to execute all prisoners and then goes on to order from the wine list. Bhast braced herself to attention, a subconscious reaction developed over a career of being dressed down by superior officers rather than a conscious choice of her own.

“We found her my lord,” Bhast declared without preamble. The Duke reached for a garment of shimmering cloth that lay discarded by the bed. As he placed it to his body, the fabric seemed to flow and mould itself around his body, resolving into trousers of a vaguely military cut. Intelligent fabric was extremely expensive, its form fed to it by an AI to adjust to any circumstances, in this case the Dukes present need for modesty.

“Marquessa Falia?” The Duke asked, nodding Bhast into the room. She entered but made a gesture to the troops in the hallway beyond to hold their positions. 

“I wouldn’t disturb your eminence for anyone else,” Bhast agreed, she tapped a command on her wrist unit. A holographic projection sprang to life, still images of Solae leaving the Bonaventure, followed by a similar shot of Rene. A later video, grainy and shaky, showed an unknown assailant firing at Solae before she was whisked away by unknown allies.

“These are recent?” he asked pulling on a shirt even as he spoke, the excitement evident in his voice.

“Twenty six hours ago, on Zatis,” Bhast replied, gesturing with a fingertip to the timestamp which glowed in response to the indicator.

“The courier ship we sent to investigate our friends got lucky and picked it up of the local net, they landed their personnel and made back here at best speed,” Bhast explained. That was a fast run, even for courier ship rigged for speed, but the captain had correctly judged the urgency of the situation. The vessel itself had sustained damage from the strain, but he had bought the urgent intelligence that was worth a hundred ships.

“Our advance element has their ship locked down, I want to take a company there immediately,” Bhast explained, nodding over her shoulder at the soldiers lining the corridor.

“It wont be comfortable but if we cram aboard the courier ship we can be there in thirty standard.” A thirty hour jump with men crammed into the hallways of a small starship was no ones idea of comfortable, particularly with weapons and gear stowed, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Do it,” the Duke declared then paused.

“And take control of the PEA the moment you hit the ground, this is clearly their goal.”

Bhast bowed.

“It shall be as you command your eminence.”