Click...click...click...

The numbers ticked onward.  The screen flickered, the digits at the right hand end of the display blurring as they counted infinitesimal slivers of time.  Those further left were now dormant, having done their duty.  The years have been counted, the months computed, the days were now carefully being ticked off by the relentless march of numerals.

Now only twelve days and a few odd hours remained.

---

Twleve Days, Seven Hours, and Fifty-Seven Minutes from Zero

Riqimo hated his job at times like these.  People who never entered combat and simply crunched numbers behind their desks all day were certaninly not his favorite folks.  And he was surrounded by them at apparently a few days over a week and a half before a disaster that was known to be a risk for about two years.  Maybe if you found the right equation the problem will go away, unlikely but that was the mentality of the number crunchers in this area of the VE Intelligence.  Taking his eyes away from the dizzying blur of the faster ticking numbers Riq turned to one of the techs in charge, “So can you please tell me what the heck I need to do?”

“The encryption key, we haven’t been able to crack this one at all, it’s almost as if the key changes each time we try,” the tech shook his head tiredly and sipped from his empty caf mug as force of habit, hoping there was still a drop left.

“I’m curious why we have an intel leak for about two years in our system and it was never reported through official channels...” Riqimo glared sternly at the figure, hoping to intimidate him into giving out who gave the order to keep the security loophole silent.  Kami must have had the same idea, as she was glaring quite a bit more sternly from beside Riqimo.

The tech tried to bury his eyes at the bottom of his coffee mug, but as any man under such a gaze like that of a woman, he cracked.  Riqimo winced that it had to come to such tactics against a fellow male, but it was desperate measures for even more desperate times, “It was ordered, at the time it was considered minor, didn’t have access to any important files, and we were trying to crack it down anyways.  Didn’t seem to be a large threat.”

“Ya, ya,” Arnaut (the stand in PC for Wildcard) muttered, “I read the brief thing, it got worse, started accessing more files, until finally it will make our entire databank system public access, every file we have will accessible to any six year old knowing how to access the holonet.  It was rather nice of it to give us an exact second of when this would happen.”

“That’s the weird part, the person would have to have knowledge of the system to even be able to do that...” the tech scratched his head and turned back to the console screen.

“Exactly, we don’t just have a leak in the data pipe, we have a crack somewhere in the personnel.” Riq whispered in hushed tones, “I think what you have here is a wild goose chase, but we don’t have anything to go on.  If we reach ten minutes remaining...  you pull the plug.”

“But...” the tech stammered.

“I rather not have the average citizen knowing how to manufacture our most secret weaponry, and if that means stopping our own soldiers and scientists from accessing it, so be it.  It’s a small price to pay.  I will take Phoenix Company and follow this lead of yours, but you have to hold up that end of the bargain, got it?”

The tech nodded and closed his eyes, “Alright, you’re right, small price.”

“Alright Kams, Arn, start making the preparations, I got to brief the Prefect and XO as soon as they are done with their current meeting about the structure of the Corps.  If you can alert the Dominion to prepare for accomadating us and leaving the system in six hours, that'd be great,” Riq rubbed his eyes, “It’s going to be a long twelve days...”

Riqimo left the Prefect's Office, straightening his dress uniform gently as he went and making sure his officer sash was properly displayed.  He was already missing the Imperial Holiday Ball that started a short while ago due to this incident and apparently would have to pull out every trooper and squad leader from the party to deploy them.  Champange and fancy hors' devours would have to wait,

Riqimo sighed as he worked his way through the hallways, he'd let the troops have their fun before being pulled to join a campaign.  In the meantime however, he had to obtain support units and men from the regular army corps.

"Hey Brigdet, still working this late?" Riqimo nodded to his secretary behind her desk as he entered the waiting room to his office.

"Yes sir, just filing that paperwork that you needed me to do for the specialty training programs."

"Right, can you get Colonel Reaves of the on the comlink for me?  He's probably still at the 53rd Battalion barracks," Riq gave a nod of thanks and stepped into his office before Bridget could reply.  If these stressful stituations keep up, I'll probably have gray hairs by the end of the year... Riqimo openned his bottom drawer of the file cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Corellian Whiskey and a single glass.  He may be missing the party, but he certainly wasn't going to miss a much needed drink to soothe his nerves.

"Sir, Colonel Reaves is on commline 7 awaiting your confirmation," his secretary came over the comm as Riqimo finished pouring.

"Good evening Colonel," Riqimo flicked the switch and changed his deskcomm to speaker mode, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I require you to prepare your battalion for deployment."

"We're ready to support the Stormtrooper Corps, Lieutenant," Reaves' husky voice replied over the comm, "Just tell me where we need to be."

"The Dominion, we're leaving the system in about 5 and a quarter standard hours," Riqimo took a sip from his glass, "Pack something warm, you and your men are going to need your cold weather gear."

"An ice planet?" Reaves' voice seemed to pick up a little and Riq could imagine the man's shaggy beard curling up as he smiled.

"Yes, figured you'd enjoy it, hence my calling you for support."

"I'll round up my troops right away,  See you on the Dominion, and I hope you get some rest soon, sounds like you need it."

"I'll get some on the hyperspace jump I'm sure..." Riq smiled wearily as he took another sip, "See you soon."

Darr-Rann left the Prefect's Office only to be called right back. Apparently he assumed that running the academy relieved him of going on this mission. That only made Cosmic and Rizzit laugh.

"The only think you're relieved of" Cosmic said still half laughing. "Is having Snipes under your command..."

"Well, if you think about it...."Rizzit said with a smirk. "That is definitely a good thing in some ways...."

Rizzit laughed and then thought back to his days as Squad Leader of RAIDERS. Damn...we were a crazy bunch but Snipes...heh...he was insane. Poor Mara....every time we turned around she'd be duct taping him up or something. Good trooper though...you could trust him with your life and not be sorry that's for sure.

Darr-Rann eventually laughed himself. "So...to the Dominion then?"

"Yeah the ship we're taking is outside." said Cosmic.

Rizzit looked strangely at Cosmic. "We're taking your ship?"

"Yeah...as I said its right outside....you need to pay attention..."

Rizzit grumbled. I guess I need to get used to this. After all I am now under him...I have not been under or had anyone directly under me for years now. On the upside...I won't be traveling alone.... "Yeah sorry...you know...new job and all got caught up in my thoughts."

Aboard Cosmic's ship it was actually more spacious than Rizzit's Yacht The Avenger. Cosmic had a full access bar and luxurious seating. Not being used to the full-access bar, Rizzit and Darr-Rann were making sure Cosmic's stores did not go to waste. Cosmic had one and stared at the two drinking up his entire alcohol supply.

"You two should be ashamed of yourselves." he said and with a slight smirk added. "If only the rest of the Army could see how well their Executive Officer and Commander of Training behave themselves in the presence of the Prefect."

*HIC*"Sorry Cos. You know how Doc can be when he asks for help. You never really know where you're going. In fact...DO WE know what we're even doing? All I know is that there's a *HIC* virus or leak in our system." Darr-Rann saod while turning red-faced.

"Besides..."Rizzit added (also turning red-faced). "You would *HIC* hate it if the three of us died and as you died you knew that your alcohol would go to *HIC* waste..."

Cosmic's face stiffened. He actually found the two quite amusing but was not going to let them see that. "It would never go to waste..." he said with a firmness in his voice until he finally started laughing as he talked. "If we all died Snipes would see to it that he got his share of the booze...and by his share I mean all of it."

The three had a good laugh in fact...they laughed their way (all the way) to the ISD Dominion.

He slid his fingers across the edge of the desk, noting how much dust shifted off and flurried to the floor. Like snow. Like the snow that they were about to be fighting in, dying in. An omen? An omen of victory, perhaps? Or maybe something more sinister. A warning? Against what?

Arnaut shook his head shivered a little. He felt wound up, like a spring drawn too tight. He wanted to move, jump into action, get it over with already. He just had to...to calm down, calm the frig down.

He regulated his breathing and began to shift through the papers on the desk, trying his best to ignore the fact that his right hand trembled slightly as he reached for them. Though he denied it, Arnaut knew that he was scared. More scared more than any other combat mission had made him. Darr’s departure had been so...sudden. Arnaut had been just getting used to the platoon adjutant position. He’d been excited, preparing for the first major offensive with the platoon. Darr had been a good Platoon Leader; good with logistics, good with morale, good on the field. Arnaut had looked forward to learning a few tips on how to lead a Platoon, right from the battlefield itself. But now they told him he had to lead all of Wildcard into battle, with no real experience at all. He snorted quietly. He’d been a barely competent with one squad, and now they expected him to command three.

There was nothing for it. It was too soon into preparations for a temporary platoon commander to be found and transferred, and then there would be the whole transition phase for both the platoon and the new commander. Not ideal conditions for making war.

So here he was, in charge of a platoon. He wiggled his foot and shook some of the dust of his boot. Kind of boring, actually. Belying what was to come, no doubt. He sighed. He had to stop fretting. He was going to burn himself out.

Unconsciously, he looked up toward the desk, awaiting the orders that would never come. Of course. Darr was gone. He made up his own orders now. Right. He noticed the papers, still in his hand, and started flipping through them.

Requisition form, requisition form, transfer forms, logistics from all over the platoon. Wraith needed spare clips. Raiders was running low on armor polish, though Arnaut wasn’t sure how that was important enough to merit a form in his stack.  Requisition, requisition, requi...this was pointless. He needed to talk to somebody, get something...accomplished, do something. This waiting agitated him, like nails on a chalkboard. He tossed the papers backo nto the desk, not caring that a few slipped down and sped away, littering the floor. He’d get them...sometime. Not now. Sometime. He left the room and didn’t come back.

The hallways were empty. That was different. He’d expected officers, lots of them, to be hurrying past his room, busy with their usual jobs and such. No, not emptiness at all.

Then he noticed the poster hastily pinned to the wall advertising the Officer’s Ball, and groaned. He hadn’t realized that the ball was that night, what with the transfer, and sorting out the matters for the upcoming campaign. His squad leaders had probably been dancing in it this night, were probably still dancing, with just a few hours to go until they were to leave. Arnaut wondered if they’d gotten the orders.

The ball was probably loud. Like, really loud. And it probably had lots of alcohol.  His squad leaders had probably not gotten the orders, he surmised, definitely not. Nevermind the fact that orders had been sent out that morning and, by all rights, they should've been aboard the Dominion at that moment. Nope, they were still down there at the Ball, partying to no end. It was his job as a Platoon Commander to go retrieve them, and he’d be damned if he were going to shirk the duties of his new position.

He hoped they were still serving champagne. The Ball always had nice champagne.

Edited.