Era of Rebellion - Navigation

Christopher Levy, Katie Liszak, Alexander Olivia, and Anonymous.
Zero years before the Battle of Yavin (35:2:2) in the Alderaan system: Alderaan (Aldera: The Tranquility).
Commander Derek Atio, Trooper Zek Correson, Jherek Dali, and Trooper Alanya Rockturne.

Commander Derek Atio sat at a table in an outdoor Café in the bustling city streets of Aldera. He found himself today wearing the uniform of a member of the Royal Alderaan Civil Fleet, gone were any indications he was a member of the Rebel Alliance. His blaster carbine, a faithful companion at his side since before the Clone Wars, was left behind ... a product of Alderaan's strict prohibition on weapons of any sort. In front of him on the café table sat a cup of slightly-consumed warm tea. In his hand rested a datapad that he was studying intently. He was glad that the Argo was operational and back on the front lines, but he found himself uncomfortable being back on Alderaan. He was never fond of 'cloak and dagger' disguises, given the choice he would prefer to simply fight the Empire head on than play such games.

A light cough rose from the depths of the man's chest, having taken too long of a drag from that nicotine addiction he has had for the past thirty years. In the attempt to quite six months ago, his need for the paper rolled herbs only grew stronger with each passing day ... a terrible habit, but something had to wash out the prickly sensation of guilt that was his job. Right hand was lifted, brushing through scraggly chopped hair ... a few inches longer than the high and tight style Jherek Dali was used to. Clothed in the common garments of a civilian instead of the heavy plated armor his 'Teacher' wore on every occasion, Jherek found himself seated at said café' only a few tables away. A plate lay empty before him, a bottle of beer to the left of it and of course that smoldering cigarra held between his left index and middle finger. The Mandalorian had been traveling for quite some time and needed a well deserved break ... especially after his ship, the Navigator, took a rather nasty beating in a hunt gone horribly wrong. He needed advice from the Reclaimer, a woman who also called herself Alexandra Seraphim. Another drag was taken before the smoke was swallowed by a hefty swig of stale alcohol.

Derek heard the cry of a thranta and looked up, using his hand to shield his eyes from the powerful glare of the Aldera star. His eyes squinted through the glare as he spotted a flock of the majestic creatures soaring above them. His face, cheeks slightly swollen from too many years of laid back civilian life, lit up in a smile and he sighed, contently relaxed by the tranquility offered by this seemingly docile world. He lowered his head after a moment and looked through the bustling crowd. He wondered how long these people's true intentions towards the Emperor could remain hidden before they all suffered the terrible fate he had seen occur on Ralltiir. He shook his head slightly and returned to the more pleasurable aspects of the tea. Placing the datapad down on the table, he took a long sip of his tea, an uncivilized *slupr* breaking the silence of the afternoon. He gave a casual nod to Jherek and smiled, noticing he did not look like one of the locals.

The Mandalorian nodded back to the one who looked at him, raising a glance in a friendly gesture. Unlike his teacher, Jherek actually enjoyed the occasional civilized conversation and being in public without a stoic look upon his grungy features marred by a massive scar on the right side of his face and a slightly unkempt goatee. With his cigarra nearly out, Jherek used whatever was left on his plate to finish the 'job' of putting it out completely. One leg crossed over the other, resting one boot on the bar beneath the table ... shards of mud trickling onto the ground, an obvious sign he was not used to keeping them clean. At all.

"Are you here for the shockball game?" Derek asked as he looked over at Jherek. With the Aldera Thrantas taking on the Coronet Sand Panthers he had noticed an influx in characters show in the city lately. It was a well-known, well-publicized event that many of the locals were buzzing about. With the war raging on he had considered attending himself ... he was in need of some down time before heading back out into the war zone. He had played himself when he was at the University of Byblos, but he was never any good, and currently he was not exactly in playing shape.

"Huh? Naw, I'm just here wasting time until I can get my piece of crap ship off this rock." A swig was taken from his bottle before patting his vest down in the attempt to look for his pack of cigs. So far, nothing ... hands moving to his side pockets and down to his right boot where he finally found a flattened box with only one more delicious cancerous stick. Jherek retrieved it with a crooked smile after rolling up his pant leg and revealing a rather nasty looking bite mark only weeks old.:: "This planet's too clean for me to stay too long without reason."

"Oh I don't know," Derek said as his head looked around. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the hustle and bustle of the people moving through the streets of Aldera, the children playing in the local park, and the majestic thrantas soaring in the skies above. He smiled, inhaling the fresh, clean air deeply before opening his eyes and looking at the man once more. "I think this is a remarkable place," he told the man, sharing his views, "It is a civilization unlike any other place I've visited."

Derek took another obnoxious sip of his tea, the loud *slurp* drawing an annoyed stare from a more subdued commoner at the next table over. His swollen cheeks reddened as he placed the cup back down nervously on the table. He cleared his throat as he smiled apologetically at the elderly woman. "Sorry," he said with an embarrassed tone. A moment later the waiter passed his table, refilling the cup to the brim. He raised his eye brows at the server, nodding his head in an unspoken symbol of gratitude. He sighed as he looked down at the swirling liquid, closing his eyes as he listened to the peaceful sound of the playing children in the park. It was a pleasant departure from the horrors of the war.

Alanya disliked this place ... a lot. No weapons, she felt naked and even more out of place than usual, as she had not changed her usual wardrobe of combat jumpsuits selected to blend in with the environment, making her stick out like a sore thumb, offending Alderaanian fashion sense. Of course, the ban on weapons did not mean the infiltrator was without weapons, simply that she went to lengths to conceal them. She held between her right index finger and thumb a datadisk, clasped tightly against her thigh as she walked over to the table where Derek sat, sliding the datadisk onto the table. Surprisingly for Alanya, she did not salute or come to attention, given the nature of the place. Rather she simply slid the datadisk towards Derek, before intoning. "Sir, I was tasked with delivering this to you." She then leaned back, standing upright. She seemed to be a fan of good posture as she always stood straight, chin slightly elevated. At least she fit in one way with the locals.

Derek's eyes glanced upwards at the young woman and then down quickly at the datadisk. He quickly shifted his datapad on the table, covering the disk before it was seen. His eyes darted to the left and then to the right as he looked at the other patrons. Some of them had quixotic glances on their face as they watched the rather orderly woman. He cleared his throat uncomfortably as he focused his attention on her now. "Have a seat," he instructed to her as his booted feet kicked a chair out from underneath the table. The metal scraped against the duracrete floor it was seated upon, making a bigger scene than was already occurring. He lowered his head slightly, shaking it in embarrassment. It did not seem to be his day.

She nodded her head quickly. "Yes, sir." Although she would of much rather of left immediately, she was not one to decline an offer from a superior officer. She sat down into the chair, plainly ignoring the stares of the others around her. She had already earned quite the reputation as during the last day on Yavin she'd killed two Runyips, three Whisper Birds, a Stintaril, and a family group of Woolamanders, which had been more than enough to supply the crew with fresh meat, although some had balked at eating the younger members of the Woolamander family group because they were "cute." She had wished to hunt upon Alderaan as well, as she viewed it as the perfect chance to practice under real conditions taking difficult shots. She straightened up in the chair, her back not even touching the support as she looked directly at him, blue eyes unblinking for the longest. "Did you need something else from me, sir?" She asked, ignoring those around them, she didn't pay much attention to civilians at all.

Derek's hand instinctively moved to the collar of the Alderaanian uniform the General had insisted he wear. He had made the mistake of using the measurements he had on file from his service during the Clone Wars, and the clothing was tight and uncomfortable. He stretched out the collar of his tunic and swallowed, finally being allowed to take an unrestricted breath. He sighed as he withdrew his hand and returned his attention briefly to the tea. "No, Trooper," he informed her quietly so that the others would not hear her rank. "But," he continued as he took a quieter sip of his tea, "But you may find peaceful moments like this rare in the time to come so I thought you might enjoy it."

Again the soaring thrantas screeched, their calls echoing through the afternoon skies in an almost music-like chorus. She stared at him for a long moment, uncomprehending. "Respectfully, sir. I believe this time could be better spent practicing useful skills, sir." She said as she looked up, towards the sound of the screeching and turned to look back at Derek. "May I ask respectfully sir, why we have stopped here? Certainly there could be a better use for resources and manpower than..." She paused for a moment, she wasn't even exactly sure what it was they were doing here. But she was just a trooper, and such things were not always passed all the way down the chain. "...the assignment here." Whatever that was...

"There will be plenty of opportunities to use those skills," Derek explained to her as he took of a soft sip of the tea, the drink nearly consumed. "Look around you," he said with a smile as he extended his arms around him in a gregarious gesture, "These are the people we're doing all of this for. Sometimes it helps to remember that." His attention once again moved to look at the group of schoolchildren in the park before looking at the commando once more. "I wish I could tell you we were here for reasons like this," but, his voice once again lowering as to not attract unwanted attention, "Our current assignment will require us to spend a great deal of time here. Acting as a consular ship allows us to penetrate deep into the Core." He took another sip of his tea, finishing the cup and placing the empty back down. "Sometimes we must do what is necessary to keep up appearances," he concluded.

Alanya opened her mouth once, and then closed it again. As if she were going to say something in return, but instead thought about it for a moment, before nodding. "Yes, that is what we are here for." She said, before continuing. "Although sir, I know of no consular ship that has failed as many safety inspections as the Argo, sir." She said bluntly, watching him drink of the tea. She seemed uncomfortable in this place, as she did in just about any setting that did not involve combat, or training for combat. "Sir, I did want to ask you about the progress on the hunting and weapons permits I had applied for. It would be helpful to be allowed to hunt some of the local game...It me blend in with the locals, sir." She pointed out, using his arguments effectively against him, for her own benefit. Although her face remained impassive, betraying no hint of self-satisfaction at that.

Derek's brow furrowed every time someone criticized the ship, despite the fact the charge she made was quite accurate. "Be fair," he said as he considered the alternative, "I'll have you know that the Argo is in much better condition than every vessel in the Squib Reclamation Fleet." He chuckled, acknowledging the problems inherit with serving in the Alliance Fleet. "I am not sure the locals would appreciate you blasting any of the thrantas," he commented as his eyes again looked up to the sky in wonderment at the beasts, "but I will see about getting you all some practical training in the local terrain and with the wildlife." He nodded to her and hoped that his efforts would somehow reassure the Trooper that he would try and support her efforts.

She looked up as well. Instead of in wonderment, she was analyzing them, determining what type of lead she would have to give the creatures as they flew, and where exactly to place the bolt. She looked back down at him, still not understanding this reluctance to harvest a natural resource. There were inefficiencies everywhere, and this planet was a prime example. So much time and effort wasted on things of no real value. She had not bothered to visit any of the local museums or points of interest, as other members of the crew had. Rather she had simply spent her time training physically, and keeping the edge sharp. She nodded her head slightly. "Thank you, sir." She said, and as much as she disagreed, she would of course follow orders to the letter.

Upon departing the CR90 corvette Argo, the gentlemen proceeded within the café. Zek Correson, former smuggler who just happened to get caught up in the Galatic Civil War between Rebellion and Empire. He was assigned to pilot the shuttle Gilded Thranta onboard the Argo, not much of a job considering he would need to become the engineer and mechanic for the shuttle incase it malfunctioned. His attire consisted of beige slacks with knee-length boots tucking in the inseam and on his upper region, he wore a beige jacket with a white, fit tee inside. He made his entrance in to the café on the planet of Alderaan. Apparently, the Argo was on a diplomatic mission. He advanced further inside the café to grab a drink. "Corellian Ale, please."

The server provided the brash pilot with a mug of Corellian ale and then turned his attention to the commander, pouring him a third cup of tea. As the young woman had not yet purchased a drink, he politely placed a glass of gold water down in front of her.

Commander Atio watched as the shuttle pilot entered the café as well. He nodded to the man and waved him over to the outside table where he and the young Trooper were seated. "Zek," he said as his boot moved to kick out another chair at the table, "Did you complete your checkout on the Gilded Thranta?" He was not used to having a shuttle onboard, but the Fleet command had thought it best to give them a transport they could use to get into certain more hazardous situations and the Sigma-class shuttle fit the role perfectly.

"Thoroughly checked inch by inch. Had a R2 unit help me locate the problems since it damaged all of a sudden." His fingers wrapped around the handle of the mug containing the golden liquid. He head for the table where the others were at present. Zek accepted Commander Atio's invitation to sit down among them. He settled down facing in the direction of the others in the opposite way. He places the mug down while he glanced at Derek. "So any news lately, sir?" The so-called diplomatic mission had certainly left the shuttle pilot buzzing with some curiosity. His folded arms lay down on top of the table while he kept his focus on the Commander for answers.

"General Rieekan has called us here to receive new orders," Derek explained to the pilot in a tone of voice quiet enough not to be overheard. "What those orders are," he continued, his eyes glancing to the Trooper for a moment and then back to pilot, "I have no idea." His hands motioned to the Alderaanian uniform he was currently wearing, "But rest assured it involves a great level of intrepidity and subterfuge." He sighed as he considered the losses they had already suffered in the war, lifting the cup of tea back to his lips once again for another sip. "Have you two met?" he asked, his attention focusing between the Trooper and the pilot now.

Zek nodded in agreement to what the Commander had stated. A hush-hush is in order to avoid any suspicious characters listening to their conversation. He took it upon himself to not speak of it somewhere like a café. "Got'cha." He sighed before he lifted the mug from the table, tasting the beverage he ordered from the bar. He had to be sure to remember paying it this time. He did not like what happened last time. After taking a sip, he listened to Atio asking about his connection to the trooper. "No we haven't. Name's Correson, Zek Correson." He politely extended a hand out over to the trooper while he shot a glance at the woman present.

Alanya stared down at the beverage, and then up again, not touching it. She then glanced over at the hand that was offered, taking it and giving a firm shake. A very, very firm shake, as it seemed was customary amongst humans, some minor hand pain was apparently warranted. "Trooper Alanya Rockturne. SpecForce Infiltrator. Command Division, Fifth Regiment, Alpha Company." She said, before letting go of the hand and turning her head back towards Derek. "General Rieekan, sir? Then it must be of importance." She said, somewhat relieved that they might get an important mission soon, she was starting to tire of the constant repetition of shipboard life.

"He is the commander of our forces in this region," Derek explained to the Trooper as he continues nursing his cup of tea. "We'll be taking our orders from him for as long as we're operating out of this command," he looked around watching the people who were more focused on the broadcast of the shockball match between the Coronet Sand Panthers and the Aldera Thrantas than eavesdrop on his conversation. He thrust his fist up in the area and grunted as he watched Aldera score. He was eager not to look too out of sorts as he spent his afternoon at the café.

Quite a shake she had. Intentionally, the shake did leave a slight wince of pain. He hid his hand beneath to shake it off while she spoke of her position onboard the Argo. He kept himself silent as she asked about General Rieekan. He glanced at the Commander who suddenly roared to the game. He spun his attention to see the game quietly, but turned back to focus on the conversation. He did not bother to voice his own opinion since he was generally a quiet individual. He would soon hope to find themselves doing something for the Alliance instead of sitting back watching shockball games all the time.

She blinked at the grunt, and then turned to look towards the game. She observed it for a moment, before speaking. "Disabling the opponent at the ankles would be a better strategy, to hinder their mobility." She said bluntly, obviously not having a sense of "fair play" at all. She turned back to look forward again. At least such a thing made sense, physical competitions such as shockball should be encouraged. From the looks of more than a few people around the café, they should be playing it instead of watching it.

"Remind me not to challenge you in the ship's wrestling challenge," Derek said, nearly choking on his tea from the ferocity of her comment. Clearing his throat as the hot liquid went down the wrong way he elected to push his tea off to the side for the time being. "Have you had any chance to test out the flight capabilities of the shuttle yet, Zek?" he asked as his mind continually wandered back towards their upcoming mission. He knew that the shuttle was functioning, but older than the newer Lambda-class shuttles currently being used by their rivals in the Empire. Still, they had to take what they could get and be thankful to have it.

"Unfortunately, not. Couldn't find any decent place to test it with suspicion flying everywhere. Especially with you-know-who lookin' for us." Due to the stubbornness he created, he still kept it quiet to not draw attention. "The R2 unit discovered some malfunctions within the engines and landing pads. Shouldn't take very long to repair them." He lifted the mug from the table to take another sip of the dull taste. He shot a look over at the monitor picturing the shockball game. "I may need some useful upgrades for it, if you want it to fly dandy."

Derek's right hand moved the side of his face, rubbing against his cheek as he sighed. Nothing ever worked right it seemed. "As soon as the engineering team gets the shuttle ready," he said, his voice becoming slightly agitated, "we will take the Argo into orbit and we'll practice shuttle launch and recovery procedures." His hand moved to the cup of tear, nearly knocking it over as he let the endless series of repairs frustrate him a bit too much. "There is another planet in the system," he explained as he took a sip of the tea to calm himself down, "We'll see about running the shuttle back and forth and dropping the unit there." His attention turned to the Trooper again, "Maybe there is something there you can kill that won't require quite as many permits."

He rolled his eyes to the reference of killing. It would seem the shuttle pilot will not get an opportunity to kill anything ... or anyone ... if a situation became intense. "Guess we could. What system are you thinkin' of prepin' a drop for our troops?" He finished drinking the beverage he ordered earlier on. He would need to be sure that R2 unit is capable of locating the damage on the shuttle. It seemed the ones the Empire had taken hold of were in relatively much better in the service of the Rebellion. It seemed lately the Alliance is only getting old junk to work with since everything nowadays he must ask permission for.

"There is another world in this system where we will practice dropping the unit," Derek explained to Zek. He clapped his hands together in mock frustration as the Coronet Sand Panthers scored to tie the shock ball game. His attention focused to the infiltrator who was seated with them again. "I read you are from Tanaab," he explained, hoping he had remembered it correctly, "I don't think I've ever been there." He studied her for a moment. He had heard rumors about Infiltrators before and what they were capable of, but he had never been this close before.

Alanya nodded her head slightly. She would agree with the Commander's assertion that they should probably not square off. It would be rather uncomfortable if she caused him serious bodily harm while playing. "That would be excellent, sir." She stared at him evenly, before nodding her head in response. "Yes, sir. Where I learned to shoot, defending the Roba heard from predators and poachers, as well as the occasional pirate attack, sir." She said, ignoring the conclusion of the game. A tie, how useless. "You are not missing much sir, except for the Roba Steak, sir."

"Pirates?" Derek repeated, groaning in displeasure. During the years he spent working for Galactic Tours an attack by pirates was what he feared more than anything. They were an insufferable lot of scoundrels that made the honest merchant sailor like he used to be cringe, but considering how he spent his days presently he did not feel that much superior. At least they had equipment that worked, he thought silently to himself. "Can't stand the lot of them," he explained as he made 'small talk,' one eye always on the Imperial Holovision broadcast of the schockball game. "I hope you killed quite a few," he commented with a nod, "...although I hope you didn't eat any."

He returned a firm nod over to the Commander who had said something about another system where they would practice. In the meantime, he listened to the female trooper give her input about pirates. The discussion left him chuckling rather lightly about the thought of piracy. He remembered quite a few who had used the former smuggler for a few spice runs or transporting illegal weaponry past system checks before landing on the planet. Half the time he spent on Brentaal, he was working alongside rogues and criminals who wanted him to be sure the delivery was made. "Wouldn't want to get in their way. Not very friendly. Used to do a couple of runs for them back in my day."

Alanya did not say anything to confirm or deny the allegation. "They do not learn a lesson very well, although they did stay away from our family heard." She said as she added almost as an afterthought. "They made good target practice." She said plainly, glancing around at the civilians around before her attention returned to the table. It was easy to tell she was itching for action, as if hoping something would happen to break out of their routine and return to action. She'd been disappointed at her assignment, and privately she still thought her abilities could be better utilized somewhere else...but she was not an officer.

"You were involved with pirates?" Derek asked Zek as he took a deliberate sip of his tea while studying the man. He supposed the Alliance would take just about anyone these days, but he was surprised to find someone with that kind of history among their midst. He swallowed and put the cup back down as he looked to the woman again. "I'm glad you're on our side," he let her know, a small, nervous chuckle escaping his lips. At the moment he felt surrounded by people who might kill him and one that might even eat him.

"Ran loads of cargo for them. Transporting priceless goods for them the Empire wish they could use at their service. Even people for example." He had good old memories of becoming a criminal himself ... smuggling special
goods and living things across systems for a good price. "It was then the Empire managed to destroy my ship, the Vendetta. Being torn apart in space, I managed to escape through a pod and landed somewhere on Brentaal for awhile. Took me awhile to find my place working for the Argo. This is a little payback to them, I guess." He cleverly smirked at Atio for the nerves he was releasing. It made Zek softly laugh.

Derek nodded as he listened to the man talk about his history. He was experienced and that's what mattered. He would review the records again later, but he found talking to the crew was much more effective than simply reading some report on a datapad. "You're from Corellia?" he asked, as his eyes moved down to the datapad he had laid on the table. It seemed a great many people he met in the galaxy were from Corellia. They must breed like rabbits, he thought to himself, but if anyone onboard was going to be Corellian at least it was the pilot.

"Yes, sir. Where much of my training began. Used to be a farm boy." The tormenting images of his family being slaughtered were being brought up again. It left Zek to seek hospitality when he discovered the attacks were criminal related. This led to his involvement working for several criminal factions, like the Black Sun for example. He sat there looking over at the datapad his Commander had placed on top of the table. "Didn't really got a chance to join a flight school, I was taught by an old friend. So, whenever we're in a tough situation, I'll be sure to get your hides out of it. You can count on me." He released some enthusiasm towards the Commander, finishing his sentence with a wink of trust.

"Well," the Commander said as his attention shifted to the intensity of the shockball match again, his eyes darting from player to player as he got caught up in the moment, "I am sure you'll have plenty of opportunities to get us out of trouble." He cleared his throat as he remembered that time on Berea when they came under enemy TIE fighter attack while still on the planet's surface. That would have been an opportunity when a shuttle might have proved essential. He sighed as he took another sip of the tea, it looked like Coronet might win the match.

Derek turned his attention to the data disk the Trooper had delivered to him earlier that afternoon. With the excitement of the shock ball match he had almost forgotten about it. He slipped it into the side of his datapad and waited for the information to load. After a moment of waiting the screen remained blank. "Blast," he cursed as he threw a glance over the Trooper. He took the disk out of the datapad and held it to his lips and blew on it to clear it of dust. He slid it back into the datapad and that seemed to have work, the information began to come up on the screen and he began to read, his facial expression growing slightly concerned.

"A situation that I might be able to assist with, sir?" Alanya asked, leaning forward. Although she might be rough in her manners, she had a way of reading people that was rather disconcerting. She could already tell that the message she had given him was something he would not like. She tilted her head to the side, watching him carefully. She ignored the noise of the shockball game going on, keeping her eyes on him. If it needed somebody eliminated, she could certainly help with that.

Derek set the datapad down on the table in-between them and pressed the 'erase' button. A moment later the screen flashed and the data had been erased. As the shockball match wound down, Derek leaned forward and moved closer than they had been prior. "It would seem," he began in a hushed tone that surely only she could hear, "that you're about to get to use those skills in the practical sense." He nodded to her and then leaned back in the chair and turned his attention to the chronometer on his wrist, checking the time against the one recorded on the datadisk.

Alanya could not help the small smile that slid over her lips. She sat back and glanced towards the screen again. "...Wonderful, I was starting to get tired of blasting things that could not shoot back..." She said, wondering who the target would be, but that would be revealed later of course. She hoped it was something messy...she wanted to get her hands dirty again. It had been awhile...too long for her tastes. And many non-sentient beings had paid the price of her boredom, as she seemed to enjoy shooting anything that moved.

Derek observed that perhaps the woman enjoyed this line of work a bit too much, but it was not a comment he would be foolish enough to speak of. He simply nodded his head in false agreement with the statement she had made. Personally, he was much more agreeable to combat situations where the target did not shoot back. He ran his left hand across his right slowly as he considered the situation. He was glad that the mission was not a group operation, as he wanted more time to assimilate th new members of the crew. "Sit," he instructed to her, "Have a drink. There's enough time before we have to go." With that, his attention again turned to the shockball match.

She stared at him, she would much rather be preparing for the mission. But, she said nothing and simply looked back down at her untouched beverage before she looked over towards the match again, staring at it for a long moment before she looked away. She'd have to do some maintenance work on her rifle, make sure all of her equipment was still in working order, calibrating her scope...there were plenty of things that needed doing and here they were sitting, doing nothing. She looked down at the table, and kept her eyes there, lost in thought.

By now it was clear to the Commander that this young trooper was not comfortable in relaxed environments. He could tell by her body language, even though it went unspoken that she was having a miserable time. He sighed as he pushed the empty cup of tea away from himself on the table. He lowered his head dejectedly as time expired and Coronet had defeated Aldera. "All right," he said to her, a tired look upon his face, "Go make yourself ready." He shifted to his side in the chair and nodded to her once more.

She stood up quickly. "Yes, sir." She said, straightening but not throwing a salute in the middle of the crowded café before she turned on her heel and walked out of the café, eager to get started. She was going to head directly to the ship to ready her equipment, and then double check everything, and then tripe check it just to be sure. To analyze the mission from every possible angle. Only fools and smugglers relied on luck, she tried to eliminate it as much as possible from the equation, to leave only skill.

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