"LENNY!", I shouted over the intercom, "get your skinny butt to my quarters, NOW MISTER!"

As our resident whizkid entered my room, I pointed to the com panel on my desk, "what the hell is this?  Why am I getting classified Fed bulletins on my screen?"  With a grin, Lenny answered me, "I figured you might like a peek at what they're up to.  C'mon boss, we all have records with the Empire, ain't it nice if we got a little heads up if they happen to be actively going after us?"

"You got a point," I realized, "any chance it's traceable back to us?"  "Nah...", Lenny replied, "even though it's coded, it's an open broadcast, the receiver equipment I used is passive and doesn't emit any signal.  They'll never know a thing."  Looking back at the screen, I asked, "then who is this?"  Peering at the image on the screen, Lenny replied, " don't have a clue, but the Empire seems awfully interested in her.  Looks like even they have no idea who or what she is."

"From what I'm reading, she's given them a hard time," I said as I read the rest of the file, "looks like the bastards are going to dissect her to get  the information they want, poor girl."  Peering over my shoulder at the screen, Lenny chimed in, "damned shame, they're going to cut her up.  She's pretty damn hot... well, at least for a blue skin, tentacle hair alien babe."  Turning back toward Lenny, I began to laugh a little as I responded to his last  sentence, "you know, I think Krebs is right about you, you are an incorrigible little horndog."  With a smirk on his face, he replied, "what can I say Boss?  I am what I am.  Any way, she's going to need a miracle to get out of this alive."

With a heavy sigh and in agreement with Lenny's assessment, I added, "a huge miracle..."

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