There was nothing here. Nothing but stars and darkness, as far as the eye could see.

And yet, there could be no doubt.

They had traced the ship through the jump, and this was where it had arrived.

But why here?

Bregg frowned as he stared at the screen.

“Are you sure there are no planets nearby?” he asked. “Or a space station, maybe?”

His second-in-command shook his head.

“Nothing at all.” He paused as he looked at the displays before him. “Although...”

“Yes?”

Ferris cleared his throat. “I’m picking up thilium residues.”

The colonel looked at his man with a surprised expression.

“I thought that stuff never leaked.”

“Not from an engine, it can’t. But if used as a weapon...”

Bregg grunted. “Are you telling me there was a fight here?”

“Not here exactly, but close enough for us to pick up on this.”

The commanding officer looked back at the screen, thinking.

Had they been attacked? Or had they been the attackers? And where were they now?

They had to be headed somewhere.

“Follow those traces. We might find more evidence if we get closer.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find, but at this stage, he’d take anything.

With a sigh, he headed back toward his office—which was just a door away from the bridge.

“Let me know when we’re there,” he called out as he closed the door behind him.

He paused when he saw Thiari’s men sitting there, waiting for him. He’d forgotten about them. With a curt nod, he walked around his desk and sat down.

“If I may,” said one of them—the one named Juden. A dark-skinned fellow with short hair and a scar under his left eye.

“Speak your mind.”

“Well, Thiari asked us to go with you and follow your commands, but that is all she said. We were wondering what this was all about?”

“Why are we here?” clarified his friend.

Bregg considered that other one. What was his name again? It was a strange one. Like something out of an old TriVid flick. It came back to him in a flash: Warthol.

The man was smaller than his colleague, with blonde hair and a slight limp in his right leg. But there was a fierceness in his eyes that hinted at plenty of field experience.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if both these men had served in some military force, or perhaps had been mercenaries—or pirates.

His fists tightened, and his lips pursed.

Better not to think of that.

“You are here,” he said, “because I need to capture a ship. A ship I cannot hold once I have it in custody.”

Warthol frowned. “Why not?”

“Because,” said his friend, “if he keeps it, it would fall into the hands of the Imperium.”

So Juden was the smart one. Good to know.

“I am the Imperium,” he reminded them.

“Of course. All the more reason you’d need us to hold the ship for you.”

Bregg grunted. And while he did not confirm that statement, neither did he deny it.

“On a more practical level, I will need you to be my eyes and ears on the field.”

Juden nodded. “Whenever you cannot have the Imperium involved. I understand.”

The forwardness of this man troubled him. It was irritating, but at the same time, he was relieved to see he was being understood. He had wondered how he’d get these men to do what he needed them to do without being too obvious about it.

“Why do you want that ship so bad?” asked Warthol.

Bregg turned a frown upon the blonde. But before he could speak, it was Juden who responded.

“Don’t ask that, buddy. It’s none of our business. All we need to know is what is expected of us, not why.”

That man wasn’t so bad after all.

The colonel smiled and nodded.

“You may go to your quarters now. I will let you know when your services are required.”

The two men stood, bowed their heads, and headed out.

Bregg watched them go, then stared at his desk.

Why indeed.

The Imperium was his life. And yet, the Imperium had destroyed him.

It would only be fitting, would it not, if he now destroyed the Imperium?

Of course, that was impossible.

At least, it was impossible for just one man.

But he could still hurt the Emperor.

He could hurt him bad.