"I'm sure you know how it is, Stationmaster." Vathion pinned on a smile. "Changes in leadership makes people uneasy, makes them act in unusual ways. They weren't bad people."

The Baelton Stationmaster nodded, though he didn't look convinced.

"However, they were my crew at one point. I'll pay for all the damages and last rites."

"That is an agreeable solution," the man said. "I will have someone send you a bill as soon as possible."

Vathion nodded. "If that's all, I have other matters that require my attention."

"Yes," the Stationmaster said blandly. "I'm sure you do." He disconnected first.

Clenching his fists, Vathion screamed at the blank screen in his private office, "Damn you Gatas!" Thumping his elbows on the desk, he buried his face in his hands. "Failing! Already! The Fleet's going to fall apart, and it's all my fault!" If only Jathas were here. Jathas could always see the brighter side of things.

Vathion quickly pushed that thought aside and shoved his fingers through his hair, breaking the drying clumps. He'd had a cold shower earlier to calm his boiling blood. Then Gatas' list had come in, an hour late, and that was followed by the Stationmaster calling to tell him that there had been a bar fight in which four people listed as Natan Fleet crew had died.

With no one to talk to, Vathion got to his feet and began pacing. He hadn't exercised in several days now. "I should go work out," he muttered. It was at least something he could accomplish without causing any further problems. Except, more than likely, something would go wrong, and he'd have to run and fix it while smelling like a bag of dirty laundry.

Taking a breath, he dropped back into his chair and opened Gatas' list to review it again. There were fifteen fired from the three ships currently in dock. Six of them had booked passage onto other ships or gotten hired elsewhere. Five had not checked their mail yet, as they were on second and third shifts and were asleep still. Among those five were several high-level and important positions, such as Se'Mel, head of the third shift security in the brig. Kiti had quietly removed the message from their inboxes.

Then there were the four that had died in the bar brawl; two had been the Emperor's spies on the Xarian, and another belonged to Ha'Huran. The last person listed as dead from the fight was Se'Valef, which was weird, considering that Valef was one of Natan's close friends and not a spy. "What a mess." Vathion sighed again. He'd done what he could. "Kiti, if Gatas tries to send out any more orders without my permission, notify me."

"Of course, Stud Muffin." However, Kiti didn't sound very sure. "Is this really such a big deal?"

"Yes."

For Vathion's tenth birthday, Natan had sent a video game called Battle Fleet. In this game, Vathion had worked up from Tech-Engineer to Admiral, going through nearly every job available on a ship. He was no expert at any of these jobs and had messed up badly enough to get a "Game Over" plenty of times. But he knew enough that he could have fixed a Ferret engine if he had to. When he had first gotten to Admiral level, he had been informed that spies were on his ships. At the time, he had been upset and ordered the spies fired. Shortly afterward, Imperials attacked his fleet, and the mint-green Fuzzy Emperor called to screech, "Die traitor!"

On his second try, he left the spies and had people watch them. He found that the spies only reported what they saw and otherwise did no harm. The Cute Fuzzy Emperor was happy, the other Imperial fleet admirals were happy, and Vathion passed the level.

At first, he did not understand why he had failed. When he'd asked Natan about it, Natan had said it was because those people were owned by someone else. Leaving them meant that Vathion had no ill intent toward their owners. There would always be information leaks and spys. Knowing who they were and what they knew was crucial.

Though, clearly, Natan hadn't found out everyone's allegiances, considering what happened to him.

"Stupid," he muttered. In the main room, the door to the hall swished open.

Folding his arms on the desk, Vathion closed his eyes. He wanted to just curl up and die, but he knew that he would get no rest in death either. Natan's ghost would meet him and complain about how his son was a quitter. A soft clack of a tray on the desk beside him made Vathion sit up. Paymeh took a seat beside it.

The plate had a cinnamon roll and a cup of hot cider.

"It's not over," Paymeh said gently, "The Hyphokos support you. Watch Gatas, though. He's not going to give up. Play your game; read Natan's book; they have the answers."

Vathion looked down and sat back in his seat before he lifted his hands to scrub his eyes with his palms. "I'm going to get killed out here. I'm going to get everyone killed out here. It's not just a game! People are dead. My father's dead because of this stupid 'Game!' I'm never going to see Mom again. She'll be dead before the end of the year! Jathas is dead. I can't talk to any of my old friends. I can't replace Dad! I'm not good at anything! Not like he was!"

A tug on the front of his sleeve made him look down at the lizard. Paymeh pushed the cup of cider toward him. "Keep hope! Not all is lost! Only pieces. The solution is coming soon. You just have to hang on. Death is not the end."

Vathion pulled away but did take the cider. "Maybe not for a Hyphokos, but you can't take a Gilon mind and merge with it when the body dies. It's not possible."

Paymeh looked down. "Memories live on forever." The Hyphokos mantra; the one that made them willing to believe that death was not the final word. "You should go see I'Savon in sickbay. Maybe she'll give you pills to make you sleep better?"

Vathion's stomach gurgled sourly at the idea of taking pills. They had never agreed with him, especially when he was stressed.

Reaching out, the young man took the cinnamon roll and nibbled at it, turning to stare at the wall screen over his desk, which thankfully did not reflect his image like the bare walls did. "I didn't want to take over from him. I just wanted to be a captain in his fleet. Or maybe second in command of the Xarian, but not the admiral." He blinked away the sting in his eyes.

"Wasn't his intention either, but you were always the backup," Paymeh said.

Vathion stared down at the lizard in dissatisfaction. He seemed fine now, but Vathion hadn't forgotten Savon's earlier report that Paymeh was still under medical observation.

The morning of Natan's death, Paymeh had been discovered sitting next to the toppled crate poking at Natan's cold hand. That hand had been the only remains they'd not had to use a mop to retrieve.

After being taken to Sickbay, Paymeh had been completely incoherent, running in lopsided circles. In hopes that seeing Vathion would help, and because she could not leave Paymeh unattended, she had brought him to the shuttle bay. That had been the only time Paymeh had moved with any purpose since Natan's death.

Vathion figured it was just Paymeh being crazy and mistaking him for Natan. Jathas had died because of the mistake. Now the Empire was stuck with a measly replacement for their Hero.

Sinking down in his seat, Vathion kicked at the wall under the desk, listening to the dull clang of the metal. He swallowed an acidic burp as his stomach clenched involuntarily.

"I miss my friends! I miss Mom!" he whined, then savagely kicked the wall, hard enough to send his chair rolling into the center of the room. The floor here was tile, and they, too, reminded him of the floor in his house's kitchen and his mom standing at the oven, making casserole for dinner. They always had that on Tuesday.

Getting up, Vathion took his cider and cinnamon roll to the bedroom. "Turn on Interstellar News," he ordered, and he sat on the foot of the bed.

A blue-haired middle-aged reporter, seated at a desk in a newsroom, was in the process of speaking when the screen lit. "There has still been no conclusive word on the Alien presence entering Gilon space from the Teviot and Kom sectors. Though no investigation attempts have been made in the Teviot sector, due to the Rebel occupation, three more small assault ships attacked an Imperial Privateer fleet infiltrating Kom. All three alien vessels were destroyed."

On the screen was a picture of the three alien crafts. They were much smaller than Wilsaer Trader ships, certainly not made for long trips out. However, they sported the Tricannons the Wilsaer had as standard equipment on their Trader ships. Vathion knew well enough that the Tricannons were not of original Wilsaer design. Hardly anything was. Wilsaer were known for snagging detritus floating around after a battle.

The news anchor continued, "We got a short interview with one notable Serfocile captain that trades in that area." The screen flipped to show a Serfocile, typical of sheh's kind, with pale blue-tinted skin and large eyes. "Da'Muuli, do your people know of these aliens? What kind of message are they trying to send us?"

"We do not trade with those people." The Serfocile's antenna cocked at a highly-displeased angle. "They are uncivilized. Do not bother with communication."

Vathion sat shocked for a long time and missed the end of the news item. A Serfocile had just pronounced someone to be unworthy of trading with! It must have been the end of the universe!

"In other news, shortly after Ha'Vathion's first appearance, four members of the Natan Fleet crew were found dead after a drunken brawl on Baelton Station. We could not contact Ha'Vathion for comment, but the Stationmaster kindly obliged." The screen flipped to an interview with the Stationmaster.

A different news anchor appeared onscreen to conduct the interview. "So what's the word on these deaths?"

The Stationmaster, an older man nearing his eighties, said, "These people were honorably discharged. I have checked the paperwork. Everything is clear, and the Natan Fleet has no jurisdiction over the investigation of those four deaths. However, Ha'Vathion has graciously paid damages to the premises and ensured that their urns will be returned to their next of kin."

Vathion could have kissed the man for his smooth answers, even if he had been bugging him about the drug rings earlier that day.

The reporter said, "Thank you for your time, sir."

Back at the front desk, a woman with blue hair turned to face the camera. "We also have a special interview from earlier today with Ha'Vathion in his first appearance at Baelton Station."