The shuttle exited hyperspace after a short jump and locked onto the sole ship, a strike cruiser, near by.  A minute later, authorization to land was received, and it made the brief journey to the hanger of the ship.  Inside, three men and a women sit in side, waiting for the shuttle to land and the mysterious trip to end.  A moment later, the unmistakable whoosh of the repulsorlifts can be heard and the ramp on the shuttle descends to the hanger floor.  A short, well-built man boards to greet the occupants.

"Welcome.  Follow me this way, the Commander is expecting you."  He said without introduction.  The four occupants descended the ramp and followed him into the hanger.  The inside of the hanger appeared to be a step below organized chaos on an organizational chart.  It was littered with boxes, components, and equipment, most of which didn't appear remotely connected to anything one would fine in a hanger.  The corridors of the ship leading to the bridge didn't appear much different.  Everywhere you turned there were people busily moving equipment or make what appeared to be significant structural changes to the ship.

"It looks like this ship needs time at a dock, this refit is a circus" CWO Atrasin remarked, to no reply, as they climbed their way up to the bridge.  The bridge area, if anything, was even worse.  It appeared as though at least 20 terminals had been hastily installed in an ad hoc array, using every last bit of space.  The middle of the bridge had been overhauled, and a holoprojector installed.  One technician was working on it, and it was projecting the image of a planet.  Near the captain's chair, one of the officers, a lieutenant commander, appeared to be giving frustrated orders to a technician.  The man lead the four over to him.

"Three minutes forty-two seconds" the officer said as they approached, his back to them.  He turned to the four.  "That amount of time can mean the difference that leads to an unintended catastrophe.  Rule number one, never be late."

"I apologize Commander Hargraves.  I didn't expect to see you here, I suppose we are on the Doashim" Ibram Tyrol replied.  "Are you going to bring us to the man we are supposed to be about...all of this" he continued somewhat cryptically, unsure as of yet what he could say and to whom.  Arturus glared sharply at the four.

"I am the operational commander of this unit.  This is the first and last time you will hear me state that, and you shall never repeat it.  On board this ship you will refer to Lieutenant Commander Charlston as Captain.  He is the official Captain of this ship.  For the moment, I am here in an observational capacity for the NCC; you will refer to me as Commander, not Captain at all times in both official and unofficial capacities, is this understood?"  He asked sternly.  Arturus was, in effect, the ship's commander as well, but for operational reasons, it was understood that his executive officer was the "Captain", and official within VE he was the listed captain of the ship.

"Yes Commander" Artasin replied.

"Good.  At the moment, the navy officially believes you to be on a training assignment as part of a new leadership programme.  You will stick to that story.  We have you for ten days and unfortunately do not have any time to spare; these will be some of the worst days of your lives.  You were chosen for this assignment, because all of you have exhibited three essential traits: leadership, good judgement under fire, and the ability to handle consider levels of stress.  All of these features will be strenuously tested in these next days".

"May I ask what exactly it is we're here for?"  Bacredi queried.

"You four have been chosen as the first members of a covert operational unit for the navy.  To be clear, we have not, do not, and will not exist.  Using your skills and the training we will provide, you will undertake assignments of critical importance to the navy, often in places where the operations will be of a high degree of political sensitivity.  You are our dirty little secret as it were.  A bag of tricks: assassination, theft, electronic warfare, piracy, smuggling, kidnapping, sabotage, and infiltration.  If you repeat any of what you hear on board this ship, I promise you, we will clean up the problem".  He said, glaring at them to underscore the point.

"You will continue with your current navy positions, and be called upon at certain times for a variety of official tasks such as leadership training, capital ship training, etc.  Over the next three days, you are about to receive a crash course.  Sergeant Jakarson who saw you aboard will provide you with a schedule and the keys to your rooms.  Dismissed."  He said crisply.  The four newcomers and the sergeant saluted, and he turned to lead them away.

"Over the next three days you will have a very busy schedule.  You have exactly thirty minutes to store your gear, change into suitable athletics clothes, and report to level B2 to train at the obstacle course and shooting range.  In two hours you will begin hand to hand combat training, including the use of poisons and other tricks to defeat your opponent and make the cause of death appear accidental.  After that you will have a course in mechanics to learn how to pilot and sabotage different vehicles, and that will be followed by a two hour background session on the New Republic, so that if captured while using that cover, you can persuasively demonstrate your affiliation."  The sergeant began as they walked down the hall and down a level to where their rooms were located, next to the ship's officers.

"When do we sleep in all of this?"  Jolinar asked.  The sergeant glanced at her almost quizzically.

"After the seminar you will have thirty minutes to eat, followed by a four hour sleep period.  At 04:00 you will report to the obstacle course for training, followed by interrogation and torture training, both using and receiving, and a second hand to hand combat course.  In the afternoon you will begin training in surveillance techniques and electronic warfare which includes hacking, disabling security systems, and using electronic surveillance.  In the evening you will have a course on Thrawn's forces, followed by another four hour sleep period.  Final training on the obstacle will happen day three, this time in full commando gear and a test of your ability to evade cameras, disable security systems, and plant explosives.  Physically tired and sleep deprived, we will then put you through what we call the ultimate test, in which your judgement is tested in a high stress situation in order to see if you are ready for the task.  If you pass, the commander will have new instructions for you.  Any questions?"  He asked after outlining the lengthy agenda.

"Will we be provided with a schedule that outlines all of this?  Would have saved your time."  Tyrol asked.  The sergeant shook his head.

"You are expected to have committed to memory everything I just told you, and failure to follow the schedule will result in consequences in cell block alpha 345 - the behavioural sciences lab.  Clear?"

"Perfectly" Atarsin replied, none too impressed with the aggressiveness of the sergeant.

"Good, dismissed.  Reconvene in exactly 23 minutes - you know where."

Jolinar studied the obstacle course, keeping up the "confused newbie" act and running through some simple stretches to warm and loosen her muscles.  She was running through the course mentally, attempting to figure out the best way to bypass each obstacle.  She watched the first victim, someone by the name of Tyrol, carefully.  She preferred to watch others run such courses first and learn from their mistakes.  Jolinar wasn't delusional enough to think she was the best in the group or that her previous training meant she didn't have to pay attention.  She knew she was by no means an expert and that there was always room for improvement.  Jolinar made note of Tyrol's mistakes and came up with at least two alternatives to each.  By the time he was finished, she was ready to go.  It was a good thing too, because she was called next.

Jolinar stepped up to the starting mark and shoved everything out of her mind except the course in front of her and taking each obstacle as it came to her while preparing for the one ahead in the seconds between obstacles. 

She walked back to her place and ran through the same stretches she'd done before taking her turn on the course, while watching the next victim.  She didn't worry about critiquing her own performance just yet, knowing that had already been done by their training instructor and quite likely her fellow trainees as well.  She metally thanked whatever power it was that had brought her into this galaxy as a Mandalorian...she was able to handle a lot of criticism, and a lot of physical and mental abuse.  Pain and anger, if channeled in the right way, would only make her stronger... if she had the willpower to keep such feelings in check so they wouldn't interfere with rational judgement.

====Prior to Docking=====

Ibram sat at the back if the shuttle, eyes closed, feet up and resting on the seat in front of him. It had been nearly 12 hours since the strange man wearing the plain black uniform found him on Abrae. He hadn't been wearing any rank insignias or division badgers, but he had been flanked by four rather menacing stormtroopers, and had asked Ibram to follow him towards Navy HQ. Staring at the guards, Ibram couldn't quite bring himself to say no. Mira had been very annoyed at him having to leave their lunch early.

He had arrived at Navy HQ to find a travel bag packed for him, including all of the few personal possessions he would have wanted to take with him on a trip, when enquired, the man in black simply shrugged and said, “We've been studying you.”

After that he had been shoved onto a shuttle, and had spent the rest of the time pretty much staring at the same piece of ceiling. A couple of hours into the journey they had stopped at what he had assumed was the Epsilon System hub, as two pilots from Nazgul Squadron and a one from Kaph were also shoved into the shuttle. He had remembered hearing reports that they had been operating in the area.

“Well, this is interesting...” Chief Warrant Officer Astrain said to him as he sat down in a nearby seat.

“Not really, they won't let me tune in to the Holonet.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Couple of hours I think, Squadron's on leave at Abrea right now. I hope Tomas knows he's in charge...”

Gshlecc Artasin was the commander of Nazgul Squadron. Him and Ibram went back nearly a year, as they both joined up roughly the same time, although Ibram was technically the more senior. Ibram liked Artasin, although he could never quite figure out why – the Nazgul CO was completely tactless, outspoken, and hard as nails yet utterly dependable. Probably a good man to have by your side when shoved ceremoniously into an unmarked shuttle headed for an unknown destination.

Bacredi he remembered from his short stint in Viper Squadron. Being under Artasin's Iron rule seems to have tempered his ego a bit, although you could still see the ambition hiding behind his eyes. Still, Ibram gave him a friendly wave, and the two pilots exchanged some small talk for a bit until he went to sit on the far side of the passenger bay.

The fourth pilot he didn't know. Ibram had had little to do with the Academy for a while now, and so had not kept up to date with the recruits they were sending through into the squadrons. The twi'lekk woman of slightly shorter stature looked a bit apprehensive, although that was to be expected being the only female in a room full of men. Ibram had already caught Bacredi looking, and couldn't help but chuckle silently. The woman was still wearing her flight uniform, which showed off her Kaph insignia, but apart from that there was nothing much else to tell about her, apart from the tattoos she had on both lekku.

“Something caught you eye Tyrol?” Artasin said in his sarcastic baratone.

Ibram snorted, “You dirty old perv. I just don't know who she is.”

“Senior Crewman Jolinar, Kaph Squadron. Don't know much about her, but Lukas was telling me that she was brought up on Mandalore. You think I'm hard, better not get on the wrong side of her.”

Ibram gave Jolinar one last inquisitive look as she sat down by the door. She was quite attractive...

He shook his head and turned back to face Artasin.

“How is Lukas anyway? I haven't had a chance to speak to him since he was promoted. Stormz stepping down was so sudden.”

“He seems to be coping fine. He was a bit miffed that one his pilots was being swept out from under him, nearly got into a ruckus with that guy in black.”

Ibram laughed at the thought of Lukas punching the nameless man in the face. He missed his former Flight Leader.

As the shuttle departed once more, The four slightly confused pilots settled in for what they knew was a long journey. 10 hours later, and a voice over the tanoy announced they would be docking imminently. Opening his eyes, he stood up and went to sit with Jolinar by the entrance, tapping Artasin as he went.

The older man woke up with snort, and went over to join Ibram.

“Let's go see what all the fuss is about shall we?”

====Post Briefing, at the training course==========

This is frakking ridiculous...

Ibram charged headlong into the obstacle course before the sergeant could shoot at him a second time. Whilst not the most physically capable, time spent with Mira had taught him a few things, and had improved his physical shape considerably. It had also taught him the dangers of doing anything without warming up.

The first part of the obstacle was a shooting range filled with remote turrets. Spying a man hole on the far side, Ibram quickly made is way across the course dodging fire as he went and trying to use the exercise as his warm up. It didn't go to well, as several rubber bullets slammed into his arms and leg, and one hit him square in the back and sent him tumbling into the manhole. As he had thought, there were weapons here. He was mildly surprised to find that they were replicas of his own small personal collection – a DC-15 pistol, a wooden Stitch-Zu bayonet, and even his A280 heavy blaster.

The Sergeant's voice emanated from a comlink lying next to the pistol.

“You're probably marvelling the fact that the weapons you've found are a replica of the ones you personally own. We're not completely evil at this training facility, and we know that's it's probably best to start you off on weapons you know, I.e. ones you own, and then move you on to the more advanced stuff from there.”

Ibram quickly armed himself, and put on the comlink as the Sergeant continued.

“Every one of you will have replicas of your personal weapons stashed somewhere along this first section. You're first job is to find them, and then eliminate the turrets. From there, proceed to the next section. I'm not going to tell you what's there, but it'll be different for all of you. Carry on Tyrol.”

Ibram took out the A280 replica and tried to peak over the top the manhole. He was greeted by a volley of rounds from a nearby turret, one of which nearly got his eye.

Lovely...

From what he could tell, there were two turrets nearby that had their guns trained on him. He remembered seeing a third at the beginning of the course, and a fourth sat next to the entrance for the next part of the course. He racked his brain trying to find a solution.

What would Mira do?

He glanced down and saw a rock sitting on the side, and thought that she would probably throw the rock at one of the turrets. Ibram was sure if he tried that he would probably miss, but it did give him another idea.

“Come on Tyrol, you want to live forever? Move it!”

No sooner had the sergeant said then a rock came flying out of the man hole. As Ibram had hoped, the two nearby turrets started tracking it and tried to hit it with their pellets. What he hadn't expected was that, in trying unsuccessfully to hit the small rock, they managed to get each other. Ibram shrugged mentally as he climbed out of the man hole.

Two less things for me to worry about...

He ran at full speed to one of the now deactivated turrets, and used it for cover as he eliminated the other two.

“Not bad Tyrol, move on the next stage.”

He ran through the door, up along a corridor and into a room that was pitch black save for one spot light. It was shining down on a broken stationary Ion Cannon, some explosives that didn't have any det tape, and a multi-purpose hydro spanner.

Ibram walked towards the pile of junk, intrigued but excited at thought of having to use his mechanic skills. As he reached the centre of the room, the lights game on revealing 6 huge armoured droids stood around him in a semi circle. A seventh was lowered into place behind him to block the door.

“Well Ensign,” The sergeants voice said from his comlink. “You're probably wondering what the frak is going on? Well, since I do possess a benevolent side, I'll tell you. Those battle droids are on a timer of 5 minutes. Once that timer has counted down, they will activate and riddle you with heavy blaster fire. Unless of course you use the pile of junk in front of you to your advantage so that you can fight them. Carry on.”

Ibram looked up at the hulking droids in horror, noting that they had a timer on them that was counting down from 4:50.

Worst. Day. Ever.

(OOC: You kind of seem in the middle of something and have only made use of one part of what I initially posted.  I'm hesitant as to whether or not I should post part 2 yet.)

Ibram collapsed onto his bunk, utterly exhausted.

For the past three days, it had been non stop training, mainly at the hands of their gruelling drill sergeant. Ibram couldn't remember the last time he had been pushed so hard both mentally and physically. Still, he had been chosen to be part of what looked like an elite team, so he was determined to show everyone what he was made of.

Within the first day, he had proven to everyone that he was better at the mechanics side of things then everyone else, especially explosives. He still remembered the look on Atarsin's face when rigged his toothbrush to explode in his face, as part of their 'Creative Thinking' Module.

Despite a shaky first day, Jolinar quickly proved herself to be the master when it came to weapons and combat, even wiping the smirk of Bacredi's face more then a few times. She seemed to keep herself to herself mostly though, and even at the end of the three days, Ibram hadn't had much chance to speak with her.

Bacredi and Gshlecc were probably the most competitive out of the group, which Ibram put down to them being from the same squadron. Despite still being Bacredi's senior in terms of rank. Being part of a separate elite team had somewhat levelled the playing field, and the two pilots competitive hostility to each other soon became apparent. It didn't help that both their specialities lay in similar areas, and so they were frequently butting heads against each other in areas like crows blending, interrogation and interaction, as well as impersonations. Eventually, it was decided that Gshlecc was the better impersonator and interrogator, whilst Bacredi would be good with the crowds, and excellent at blending in and subtle information gathering. Which surprised the rest of the team, as Bacredi was one of the most annoying persons in existence.

Still, that had only been decided after lunch, as even the instructors had become sick of their feud. Gshlecc had even gotten a bit carried away, and had tried to assert his dominance over Ibram and Jolinar too. With the Twi'lekk being the most junior amongst them, she had little choice but to roll with Gshlecc's power trips. (Although he could  have sworn she punished G for it during the combat practices.) Ibram had just dealt with it the way he dealt with everything – by making stuff blow up in G's face, like the toothpaste. Although the hydrospanner was another good one. G soon learned to leave Ibram alone.

Despite everything, Ibram couldn't help but feel this had been the most fun he had in a long while. He knew Mira would have had a blast here, although he suspect the psychological reasons behind that were part of the reason she wasn't chosen. She would probably beat him up a bit when he got back, but he'd learned to roll with it.

He turned over on his back as Ghslecc and Bacredi tramped in to the room, just as weary. They had spent the past couple of hours undergoing the final tests to make sure they were right for this outfit, codenamed 'Reaper'. They had even let Gshlecc pick the motto since he was quite versed in a lot of academic subjects. Whilst Ibram thought it was a bit clichéd, it seemed to fit the purpose.

“That has got to have been the most intense couple of days ever.” Bacredi said as he sat down on his bunk.

“Oh quite ya wining you pansy,” Gshlecc grumbled. Passing the final test had done little to lighten his mood.

“Stow it sir,” Bacredi shot back. Ibram could tell this was going to degenerate into another slug fest, so he decided to go have a shower. They had been given the rest of the evening off, bar dinner, before new orders came. He hadn't showered since they'd arrived.

As he walked towards the communal showers, he passed Jolinar's room. Being a female, The Lt-Commader had decided to give her her own room, much to Gshlecc's annoyance.

“I'm a frickin officer for crying out loud!,” Gshlecc had moaned. “And I still have to muck it in with you boso's. Why does she get special treatment.”

“Because Arturus is old fashioned? Or wants to get into her pants with some privacy? I don't know. Take it up with him,” Ibram had said. Gshlecc never did.

He spared a glanced into the Twi'Lekks room as he went by, but she was just sitting on her bunk. He gave a polite nod.

Stepping into the shower, he turned on the tap and let the water run over him, enjoying the sensation  whilst he could. He had been like this ever since he was a little boy, as they had never had a shower of their own. Ibram used to always take a little extra longer, so that he could just savour the moment.

That moment was shattered as Gshlecc and Bacredi also entered the shower rooms, still shouting and arguing with each other. They were still arguing over the finer points of the Stealth Tactics seminar they had had on the second day.

“Guys, I swear, if you two don't drop it, I'm going to rig every frakking piece of personal equipment that you own, including your boxers.”

They two of them snorted.

“That's not possible Ibram,” Gshlecc said as he opened up his shower gel. The cap exploded, shooting a clump of gel into the man's eyes.

“Hmmm,” Ibram mused as Gshlecc writhed in agony on the floor.

“Didn't think that one was going to work.”

Against his better judgement, Bacredi helped up is commanding officer, as he wiped gel out of his eyes.

“You know, I'm so going to impersonate your dad and rob you of your life savings.”

Ibram grinned, but before he could retort, a female voice cut in.

“Now now boys, let's try and get along.”

The three pilots turned around to see see Jolinar walking past them to one of enclosed showers, Towel wrapped around her. The three men just stared.

It was a few minutes before anyone said anything.

“I think Bacredi just had his first orgasm...”

“Shut up.”

OOC:

Yeah I know, I've god modded the shit out of you guys, so sue me. I just felt like being creative :P and defining everyone's roles a bit. If anyone has any serious problems I'll change some stuff. Bare in mind i'll be going on leave soon.

Jolinar settled on her bunk in the room she had to herself and prepared to meditate for a few minutes.  The men in her training group passed by her doorway as she did, and Tyrol glanced in and nodded politely.  She nodded back, and began her meditations.  She didn't know why she got one to herself, and didn't much care.  It was an unexpected and welcome surprise.  She knew the men all had to share one, and did her best not to rub their faces in the fact that she had one to herself.  She figured the commander just didn't want to risk any inappropriate conduct occurring during training, or fights breaking out over who got to pursue her.  Such things had happened in the past, regardless of how much she encouraged or discouraged it.

After she finished and was feeling more refreshed than she had been, Jolinar realized how much she smelled--to herself, at least--and headed for the shower room.  First though, she stripped out of the clothing that had been supplied for use during training, and dropped it in the laundry chute.  She wrapped a towel around herself, grabbed her small bag of toiletries and a fresh set of clothes, and headed to the showers.  Predictably, the men were arguing about nonsense.  Amusing though it was in small doses, she had no desire to put up with constant bickering.

"Now boys, let's try and get along" she purred mockingly, sauntering past only a little provocatively.  She entered one of the enclosed showers, and shut the curtain.  There was complete silence for several minutes.  Then, over the sound of the running water, she heard one of the men say something that was unintelligible to her.  It was something insulting about Bacredi, because she heard him tell whoever the first speaker was to shut up.  She thought she heard a hint of embarrassment in his voice, and imagined his face was bright red.  She permitted herself a smirk and faint chuckle.  The men reminded her of some of the men she'd grown up around with their constant pissing contests, and sibling-like bickering.  She would never sleep with any of the men she worked with, but she had no problems with flirting with them and teasing them a bit.

By the time she finished her shower, the men had left.  She dressed, grabbed her things, and headed back to her room.  She dropped her things, and checked her messages.  There was a summons waiting for her.  She was to report to the briefing room immediately.  She swore, and checked the time stamp on it.  Thankfully, it had arrived only a minute or two ago.  She breathed a sigh of relief and headed towards the briefing room at a fast walk.