Walking down the command deck, Fyston held his dress hat under his right arm. He knew it was strange to be called out of flight duty, so he was forced to quickly change from his pilot's uniform into something more professional. His clean boots clattered on the metallic floor with every step, and Fyston's crisp uniform looked more like an officer's than a new pilot straight out of the Academy. He stopped and saluted the commanding officer, who promptly turned around when the clacking of Fyston's boots stopped.

"Hello, Fyston. I trust you know why you're here?"

"No, sir. I was pulled off of active flight detail just a few minutes before my scheduled patrol."

"Ahh, well we don't want to keep you from your duties, now do we? We recently discovered a plan to disable the major systems on the Fearless just in time for an attack on the ship. We believe we caught who was supposed to carry out the action, and their datapad has suspicious messages on it regarding what we believe are orders. The sender has routed his information through so many terminals, systems, vessels, and other datapads that it would take us ages to find him. We want you to give it a shot at getting this information."

"Yes sir, hopefully it won't take too long."

"Alright, dismissed."

Fyston saluted again and waited until the salute was returned and then dropped before swiftly turning and walking out from whence he had came. He walked to the nearest turbolift and pressed the "call" button. As soon as the turbolift had arrived, Fyston stepped in, pressed the button for the deck that the brig was on, and waited patiently for the turbolift to arrive. The turbolift beeped once as it arrived, and the doors slid open. He walked out clutching the file he had picked up from one of the men on the command deck.

Hmm, seems pretty elaborate. They both knew what time to activate their parts in case they couldn't communicate. I know a few of the Academy students who were assigned there, which makes it more personal.

Fyston strode down the hallway confidently, staring straight ahead and subconsciously timing his bootsteps to produce an official sounding march. He turned right and was greeted by the sight of two people guarding what was presumably the cell where the traitor was located. The pair stopped him as he went to enter and Fyston flashed them the file. The one on the right opened the door, which promptly slid open and shut behind him.

"So, how do you want to do this?"

"Oh, you're giving me a choice? The other two people who tried just came in here and started being very, very abusive."

"I can see why, that mocking tone of yours would piss anyone off."

"Aren't you here to figure out why I wanted to destroy that ship?"

"It's treason either way. I want to know both why you wanted to destroy it, and who your bosses are."

"Oh, well if you want it, I guess I should give it to you, you horned piece of crap."

"What rank are you?"

"Higher than you, Senior Crewman Horno."

"You should really shut up, you're making me angry."

"Shouldn't you add 'sir' to the end of that?"

"You lost your rank when you were locked up."

"Aww darn, I was starting to like that rank. At least I know I'm better than you, thorny."

"You're not having much of an effect on me."

"Come on, crown-head, you know you want to hit me."

"Kabno mali mint'aj!"

"Oh, is that your language? Zabraki? What'd you call me, porcupine?"

"GIVE ME THE DAMN ANSWERS! I'M TIRED OF MESSING AROUND WITH YOU! I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU! TELL ME THE NAME OF YOUR BOSS, THEN TELL ME WHY YOU WANTED TO DESTROY THE FRICKEN SHIP!"

"That's more like it. You want to kill me, don't you spiky?"

Fyston stood up, tossed the file at the restrained man, and walked out of the room. He locked the door to the room and ensured the soundproofing was on.

"The frontal technique isn't working. I want one of you to yell at me, act like an angry boss who's worried about defense and is breathing down my neck."

The man on the left of the door shrugged, and then nodded. Fyston deactivated the soundproofing and gave the man a thumbs up.

"WERE MY ORDERS TOO COMPLEX FOR YOU? I WANTED THE ANSWERS TWENTY MINUTES AGO! YOU'RE SO FRICKEN INCOMPETENT THAT I WOULDN'T TRUST YOU WITH A BANTHA CORPSE! PERHAPS I SHOULD BEGIN SPEAKING IN SMALLER WORDS, AS YOU OBVIOUSLY DON'T UNDERSTAND THOSE LONGER THAN ONE SYLLABLE! YOU'RE NOT EVEN AS GOOD A PILOT THAT THE ACADEMY SAID YOU WERE! NOW GET IN THERE AND GET ME SOME ANSWERS BEFORE I HAVE YOUR PILOT'S CERTIFICATION!"

Fyston wiped off a small particle of spittle, gave another thumbs up, and walked into the room. He crossed the table and pulled the picture of the targeted ship from beneath other pictures.

"I need to know who hired you, and why, and I need to know right now."

"Feeling pressure from the bosses? I think they're pushing you too hard, expecting someone who just got out of training."

"It doesn't matter. Who hired you?"

"What about a deal? I tell you what you want to know and you make sure I don't get the normal 'traitor' cell. I also want you to tell my family about my imprisonment. I also want your name, Zabby"

"Done, you go first."

"Only fair. I was hired by some Rebels on Byss. They're in the capital city. Only reason I accepted was because the Empire we're in is too ineffective to deal with things. If you could get me out of here, I could get you asylum."

"I'm Fyston Sutsgy, and I may take you up on that. I'll go contact the group you mentioned and come back to get you out, alright?"

"See you then."

Fyston smiled and walked out of the room, to which he activated the soundproofing of the room.

"You're breaking him out?"

"Relax, I got the information without killing him and using his brain as a meatloaf. I'm not making a deal, I just wanted the information so I could get that bigot out of my sight."

Fyston walked crisply back down the hallway, turning back towards the turbolift. Before he even opened the turbolift, he noticed the commanding officer standing down the hallway. The Zabrak took off the recording device he had hidden in his pocket and handed it to the man.

"You can return to flight duty, thank you. Dismissed."

Fyston saluted and briskly strode past the man.

Thank the stars that's over with.