Flensor looked up at the shuttle's ramp, examining the dull gray plating. He ventured further with his eyes and saw the Lambda-class T-4a shuttle's nose. Before he was able to fully appreciate the shuttle's design, he was pushed by a man in a Imperial Officer's uniform that was walking up the ramp. Flensor turned around to the officer and frowned at him, knowing he could do nothing but be pushed around like a grunt.  He grabbed a olive colored bag next to his feet by the handle and walked up the shuttle. As soon as Flensor walked inside the shuttle he felt a breeze of cool, dry air, in contrast to the planet's hot, humid atmosphere. He found his seat and strapped himself in, placing his bag in a open compartment above his head.

He looked around the room, he was the only crewman in the shuttle, everyone else bared the ranks of Lieutenant or higher. The only reason why he was flying with these pompous characters was because they were all headed toward the ISD Iron Duke. The interior of the shuttle shook for a second and Flensor peaked out from his seat and saw the shuttle was moving out of the planet's atmosphere. Flensor didn't enjoy being around so many high ranking people, he felt that they only received their ranks for chugging on doughnuts and drinking ale. But on the other hand, he knew they possessed the skills to lead him into victory or to his certain death, and felt that he needed to respect them so that he won't be plunged into the latter of the two. Flensor laid his head back onto the seat and closed his eyes, giving off a sigh of relief that the shuttle had successfully taken off.




The shuttle shook as it retracted it's wings and landed on the flight deck. Flensor opened his right eye and saw the officers unstrapping themselves and leaving. He opened his left eye and started to unstrap himself while yawning. Flensor rose from his seat after unstrapping himself and grabbed his bag, walking out of the shuttle. A gaunt human male in overalls approached Flensor and said, "Wait 'ere, Dunnay' is gunna be here in a jiff'. 'Ere, let me take your bag, it'll be in your quarters." The human grabbed Flensor's bag and walked off to who knows where. Flensor stood there and watched the shuttle take off as he was waiting for Dunny.

 
  After what felt like five minutes, Flensor saw a man who appeared shorter than him heading his way, he looked at the man's rank insignia and saw that it symbolized Petty Officer 2nd class. When Dunny finally met Flensor face to face, Flensor looked down onto the man. He saw the battered uniform and realized that this man had been the backbone of the Navy for a while, he started to like this man just because he was one of those who did the nitty and gritty work.

"Got a few options for ya - there's hot chow at the mess hall if you're hungry after the shuttle ride, or we could check out your new TIE Interceptor, or if you're feeling up fer a challenge, we could hit the simulators. Totally your call, mate."

Flensor rubbed his stomach and then said, "Ehh.. let's head on down to the mess hall, I'm feelin' a bit hungry."

OOC:

568 words :C Couldn't think of anything else.

Pherik Zail stared out the window of the Lambda-Class Shuttle, as it emerged from hyperspace and angled towards the immense capital ship nearby.  The Alderaanian, freshly graduated from the Vast Empire’s Naval Academy, had been elated to be assigned to an Imperial II Star Destroyer so early in his career, and he gazed up at the majestic vessel in awe.

The Halcyon Warrior, flagship of the Second Fleet, just kept looming larger and larger in the black of space above him.  The Lambda folded up its wings, guided in by tractor beams, and eventually the vast hangar swallowed the tiny transport whole.  The blinding white lights that filled the bay were a stark contrast to the dark of space, and it made Zail wince.  Despite the sudden pain to his eyes, he kept staring out the window, determined not to miss a single detail of the sights before him.

Zail, and the other new crewmen with him, stepped out of the shuttle as soon its landing ramp was deployed.  He breathed deep of the recycled air of the Star Destroyer, a scent that some people disliked but which he took an instant liking to.  The warship smelled of sweat, polish, fuel, and a thousand other things, but Zail summed it all up simply as ‘teamwork’.

Several other shuttles were disgorging passengers too, and Zail realised that this was quite a transfer of new personnel.  Then again, with 20 passengers per shuttle, even three or four shuttles were nothing compared to a Star Destroyer’s full crew of 37,000.

A young ensign met the new recruits as they stepped onto the deck.  He read names quickly off a datapad, not wasting time with pleasantries such as introducing himself, and directed those that answered to different parts of the ship.  Finally, he shouted, “Senior Crewman Pherik Zail!”

“Here, sir!” Replied the Alderaanian crisply.

“You are assigned as a Junior Bridge Officer,” Said the ensign.  “So get to the bridge!”

“Right away, sir!” Replied Zail, and hustled off across the hangar, a military-issue duffel bag containing his meagre possessions slung over his shoulder.  Much as he would like to stay and admire the TIE fighters and tech crews tending to them, there would be time for sight-seeing later.

Fortunately, he had learned the schematics and layout of an Impstar Deuce in advance, and had little trouble finding a turbolift to the bridge.  Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the lift and onto the command deck.

He turned to his left, and beheld the spectacle of the bridge.  It was just like the layout in the training simulators back on the Cappadocious, but something about the real thing just made it a hundred times better.  A quiet hum of activity filled the crew pits and work stations, the busy efficiency of Imperial professionalism at work.  He marvelled at it for a few moments, and then walked over to the duty officer in charge.

The officer in question was a human officer and not the Mon Calamari known as Commander Mihawk he was expecting.  The man glanced at Zail as he approached, sizing him up.

“Senior Crewman Pherik Zail, reporting for duty!” Said the newcomer, saluting.

“Lance Ongol,” He introduced himself.  “I’m the duty officer.  So you are the new JBO, huh?”

“Yes, sir!” Said Zail, and handed him the datapad with a copy of his transfer orders.

Ongol ran his eyes over it, checking the details, and then approved the transfer and noted the date and time.  “Welcome aboard, Mr Zail,” He said at last, handing back the pad.  “The Halcyon Warrior is a fine ship, and this is a fine fleet.  Life here is rewarding, but it is also tough, stressful, and hard.  You think you’re up to it?”

“Yes, sir!” Said Zail without flinching.  He knew the value of projecting an air of confidence.

“We’ll see,” Said Ongol.  “For now, find your quarters, stow your gear, and get some food and some rest.  Your first shift will begin tomorrow at 0600.”

Zail saluted sharply one last time, and was off.


It took a combination of maps, asking directions, and luck, but he soon found the four-man quarters that were to be his.  None of his new room-mates were present, so he dumped his duffel bag and made for the mess hall.  Well, one of the mess halls.  It was not possible to fit a crew of 37,000 through a single room three times a day for meals.  Zail made for the one nearest his quarters, and found a bustling hive of activity.  Here the smells of the place were less to his liking.

Taking a tray, he looked about at the food.  None of it seemed any more appetising than the stuff served at the Academy, but at least it was not worse.  The queue for the food seemed long, and he found himself next to two men, one of them extremely tall and the other scarred with tanned skin.  He wondered what the hold-up was, but soon saw that the duo were being barraged by questions from an overly talkative and quite possible insane Gungan cook.

Zail sighed audibly, and just wanted to get the food, get it eaten, and then get some sleep!

OOC:

874 words.  Okay, my first post!  Dunny said it was okay for me to join in. Even if I'm not a Nightshrike we are on the same ship.  And yes, this Gungan is an abomination.  And I saw you even added her to the Halcyon's wiki page.  EVIL!

Sam Jack Dunn knew in his heart that if his eyebrow rose any farther, it would undoubtedly leap free from his face and rise unopposed towards the heavens above. This Gungan certainly was talking poor Flensor’s ear off – perhaps his height made him stand out to her more. He didn’t even bother trying to keep the amused smile off of his face, admitting to himself that at least the Gungan was entertaining, even if his smile was at the expense of his newest Squadron Member. At least, Sam thought to himself, the timely arrival of Flensor meant that technically, he wasn’t the new guy anymore. He was glad – he damn well hated being the new guy to any group.

Ah well, at least it was past now. He rolled his muscles and used the time to stretch and try to do something about the ache in his back that he’d had all day, and was gratified to find that it was slowly starting to get better. Nothing like a bit of R&R to deal with those aches, pains and deep-tissue shrapnel wounds. He really hated B-Wings, on reflection. He hated B-Wings like Flensor appeared to be hating the sudden attention that was being directed his way. He sighed to himself, and prepared to step in to bail the poor man out when he heard an exasperated sigh sounding from behind them. He turned to face a man wearing the fatigues of a Bridge Officer, and a quick look at his rank patches revealed the man to be a Senior Crewman. Fresh from the academy then, and looking tired and hungry, too – if the twitching of his hand was anything to go by, at least.

His mind shot back to his childhood, a time when he would have been lucky to be able to eat one scrap every two days. In the man’s tired, hungry expression, he saw his past. He didn’t hesitate for a second, he immediately turned around fully and passed the man his own tray of food. He was never going to see anyone go hungry again. The emotion in his eyes was clearly visible as he held out a full tray of food for the young man.
“G’on kid. Take it. Ya need it more than I do.”
He said softly, before he was distracted by the soft beeping of some kind of alarm. He immediately snapped around to face the source of the noise, his hand at his holster, before he realized it was Flensor’s watch. His shoulders were already tensed, and his adrenaline had spiked. It took him a full five seconds to calm down. Sometimes, those ol’ instincts could be a pain in the arse.

He sighed in mild irritation as the young man abandoned him to the clutches of the mad, mad Gungan. He’d sneakily grabbed the Bridge Officer’s empty food tray, and this was now being piled up by an ungodly amount of food. Sam didn’t mind – as far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as too much food. Anything he couldn’t eat in one go would be carefully saved for later. He couldn’t blame the kid, though. Getting ambushed by…that…was bad enough when ya were awake and full of energy. It was clear that Flensor just didn’t have enough left to deal with her. Sam turned to face Flensor and, after nodding a quick good-bye to Shelly, started walking off in his direction.

He turned to face the new guy as well, and nodded.
“Ya look new here. C’mon, we’ll find ya somewhere quiet ta eat that, then if ya like I’ll give ya a tour of the Destroyer.”

OOC:

611 words. Just moving things along. Nothing to see, here.

Flensor had managed to avoid the verbal bullets that was heading toward his way. He wiped his forehead with his right forearm and watched Dunny talking to another person. Flensor examined the man, he's taller than Dunny by a few inches and that's the only thing that caught Flensor's attention. He glanced at the food on his tray and swore he saw something move, he poked a small mound with his right index finger, it appeared to be sweet potatoes. Flensor removed his finger from the mound and the mound jiggled a little, his look changed from curious to surprise in a instant. Sweet potatoes aren't supposed to jiggle..

He looked up and saw the two walking towards his way, he waited for them to be shoulder to shoulder until he followed them to wherever they were going. Flensor looked around, seeing nothing but tables,jumpsuits, and uniforms. He felt uneasy being in this giant mess hall, throughout the years as a child and adult he was a social outcast. Flensor hasn't seen this amount of people since being in the court jail room to wait for his verdict. After swimming through the sea of people they finally found a empty table, the chairs that they occupied had been arranged in a triangle around the table. Meaning that there was one chair at the egde of the table and one chair on one side of the table and the other chair on the opposite side. He sat on the table that was on the edge, he had always felt a sense of security when sitting on the edge of tables. If something was to go wrong he could easily jump out of his chair and deal with the problem, but with the chairs on the side of the table, the chairs would clash against each other which would cause the whole process of getting out of your seat more time consuming. He viewed that sitting on the sides of the table would consume more time than with a chair at the edge, he knew that one second could mean his death or his survival.

Flensor looked at his tray, examining the mound, it was now contracting and expanding as if it was breathing. "Thank You," "I am Pherik Zail, and I just transferred here from the Academy. Pleased to meet you both" Flensor raises his head and extended his hand towards Serpent. However, Flensor retracted his hand and gave Serpent a dirty look. He had looked at Serpent's uniform and saw that he bore the emblem of a Bridge Officer. It didn't matter if he was a Junior Bridge Officer, he was still a officer to Flensor. He hates Officers with all his gut, mainly due to the fact that Imperial Officers were the ones who arrested him... and beat him with stun sticks throughout the whole ride towards the court house. Flensor looked back down to his tray and jabbed at the mound with his fork.

OOC:

WC: 497

At last, delicious, glorious food. For someone who’s been in the vacuum of space with nothing in between one and death but a thin flight-suit and a thick layer of sweat for a few hours, few things are better than a nice warm meal. The young man who sat at the table with two taller Imperials knew the value of food better than most, and the very moment he was seated, his fork was already scooping up forkfuls of mashed potato and shovelling it into his mouth at break-neck speed, enough to make those around him wonder if he was even bothering to chew at all before gulping it down. For Sam Dunn, an orphan boy growing up on the street, a few lessons had been learned. Food was everything, and when you got it, you ate it quick, because you never knew if your meal was going to be interrupted.

He’d finished his fourth forkful when the new Junior Bridge Officer sat down and introduced himself, his accent definitely inner rim or from the core worlds…but for someone from the Kathol Outback, it could have  been straight upper-class Coruscanti and Sam wouldn’t have been able to place it. He simply paid attention to the words, pausing his meal to listen as he checked the many pockets of his flight-suit for something, and after a while pulled out a flask. He unstoppered the lid and a strong, acidic smell came out. Green stuff, the famed drink of the Starfighter Corps. It was an…acquired taste. First time Sam had been given a glass, he’d had to be sent to medical. Since then, he’d gotten used to it. He came from a hard-drinking culture, after all.

"I am Pherik Zail, and I just transferred here from the Academy. Pleased to meet you both"
He was about to return the greeting when Flensor offered a hand to shake, and then snatched it away, glaring at the new candidate. Now that was bloody rude – especially as Flensor was raw from the academy himself. Sam Jack Dunn took a long swig from his flask, then looked Flensor straight in the eye and raised a slim eyebrow slowly, regarding the man with a stare that made very clear his opinion on the other, taller man’s actions. His expression seemed to say ‘really? you’re really gonna treat your own comrades like that?’ He shook his head, sighed and turned to face Zail, deciding that bugger it, he’d play the good cop.
“Ah, don’t worry about the big guy, ‘e’s just a little tired and grumpy. Name’s Dunny, an I’ve just transferred in from the 153rd. Good ta know the man who’ll no doubt be saving me ‘ide someday.” He said with a good-natured grin, before sneaking in another swig of the probably restricted alcohol.

Ah, green stuff. It went down smooth as butter, and then kicked you in the gut with the force of a Scout Walker’s roundhouse. He’d grown fond of the Imperial-made alcohol, and alternated between forkfuls of potato, swigs of the stuff and conversation with the other two.
“Used ta be a law enforcement officer before all this. Used to protect the citizens of me homeworld…heh, then the Vast Empire came along, and offered the chance to protect the citizens of dozens of worlds. So ‘ere I am. What about you, Flensor? Ow’d you end up wearin tha uniform?” Sam was hoping he could thaw the man out a little, get him to stop being so cold and come out of his shell. The man was being a bit of a downer, Sam thought, and that wasn’t much fun. How people went around being angry all the time, he could never understand. He didn’t get to hear the man’s response, though, as the loud crack of fist against face brought his gaze instantly up, looking over at a gang of five stormtroopers picking on a Zabrak pilot.

Now now, that was not nice. Sam pushed his seat back and got to his feet, but before he could do anything, he watched what the pilot did to the Chiss that had thrown the punch. That wasn’t nice either, but it was effective, and the gang had started the fight. By the time Sam had hefted his hip flask and made ready to throw it, one of the Twi-leks was down, and the rest of the group was starting to gang up on the pilot. One against four wasn’t good odds when ya were obviously tired, and the man looked just plain haggard. He hefted his flask, and tossed it with all his strength, enough to send one of the humans staggering a step back, blood leaking down his scalp. By that time, Sam had leaped over the table, and was eyeing up the human coldly, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Amazing how war bring out the best in soldiers, aye? Ya’d think that all of us fighting for a common cause would get us to learn ta get along. But no, wankers like you just gotta ‘old stupid grudges. You don’t deserve to wear that uniform.”
His steel-blue gaze was entirely cold and unfeeling, and promised absolutely no mercy. It was the hard glare of a lawman looking at the crook he was about to bring to justice for his violent crimes. Even deeper, it was the look that the crook gave the lawman he’d just cornered before the savage beating commenced. The promise was delivered shortly after, as with a quick puff of exhaled air, Sam let fly a brutal upper-cut to the human’s solar plexus, driving the air from his victim’s lungs and causing him to double over in pain, wheezing. He put his weight on his right foot and brought up his left knee, hard.

It met the man’s descending face half-way and collided with the sickening crunch of cartilage and a spray of hot blood onto Sam’s flight-suit, revealing to all that he man was going to suffer a broken nose. The man lashed out desperately, and was lucky enough to land a blow to Sam’s right ear, sending him staggering back for a moment. It was enough for the man to recover, and he followed it up with a haymaker that a Wookiee would have been proud of. It whistled into empty air as Sam ducked the punch, one hand to his ear, and extended his already raised left leg upwards, driving the his steel-capped boot into the man’s groin with staggering force. It was too much, and the human crumpled without a sound, falling prone on the ground. A final, merciless kick to the ribs made damn sure the man wasn’t going to get back up for a while. One down, three to go. He hoped to crikey that Flensor and Zail were backing him up.

Especially when one of the twi’leks rounded on him with a metal food try, braining him over the back of the head with it and knocking him clean off his feet. Sam only just had enough time to roll out of the way of a brutal stomp, and reached out with a gloved hand to pick up his flask from where it had landed. Well, that was lucky. He took a quick, fortifying swig of the Green Stuff and lashed out with his foot, knocking his assailant off-balance and sending the stormtrooper crashing down to the ground beside him. In the end, he knew, all fights eventually hit ground level, and it became a grappling situation. Sam pounced without hesitation, ignoring the throbbing pain in his ear and forehead, and straddled the man’s chest, delivering a punishing punch to the throat. The twi’lek gasped for air, before Sam felt a massive impact against his back, and collapsed forward, realizing that someone had just broken a mess hall chair on his back. It hurt like hell, and he realized that for a few moments at least, he was out of the fight. Stars danced around his vision as he blinked, trying to clear his head.

He felt the Twi’lek under him try to get back up to his feet, and threw a punch towards the man’s face, connecting with a dull thud, and for a moment at least his opponent stopped moving.
He hoped the Zabrak and the rest of Nightshrike was doing better than he was, because his fight wasn’t going well.

OOC:

1,400 words. Sam’s no slouch in a fight, but these guys are Imperial Stormtroopers – shock infantry are a little bit above his skill level. Don’t forget, Shrikes, if you don’t have the Xeno Martial Arts skill, you are probably going to be out-matched in a one on one fight unless you fight smart and work together. Also, a little help, please?

"Ah, don't worry about the big guy, 'e's just a little tired and grumpy. Name's Dunny, an I've just transferred in from the 153rd. Good ta know the man who'll no doubt be saving me 'ide someday." Flensor chuckled and started to poke at a light brownish lump that appeared to be a piece of bread. He picked up the bread and sniffed it, Flensor didn't know why but he had this urge to sniff things before he eats them. After the bread passed his smell test, Flensor opened his mouth and guided the bread towards his teeth. Before he was able to take a bite out of his bread he heard Dunny say, "Used ta be a law enforcement officer before all this. Used to protect the citizens of me homeworld...heh, then the Vast Empire came along, and offered the chance to protect the citizens of dozens of worlds. So 'ere I am. What about Flensor? Ow'd you end up warin tha uniform?" Flensor gave a low toned sigh and placed the bread onto the tray, he opened his mouth to speak but then he closed it as he saw five men picking on a Zabrak.

Flensor eyed the group, ignoring his fellow peers. In a flash, the Chiss troop slugged the Zabrak in the face. "Looks like a brawl's a' brewin.." Flensor thought to himself. He watched as Dunny pratically jumped out of his seat, ignoring the dog pile that was forming onto the Zabrak. Flensor jumped a little, startled at what Dunny had done, he continued to eye Dunny as he threw the flask at the human and leaped over the table. He tried to keep his attention towards Dunny but was distracted by the three men still attacking the Zabrak.

His attention quickly changed to Zail, he chuckled as he saw Zail's opponent parried his blow and send a blow of his own to Zail. Flensor knew soon-or-later he'd have to join the fight but being the bread lover he is, he decided to enjoy the bread before him. He grabbed the circular shaped bread and placed the whole thing in his mouth, he chewed viciously while watching the brawl take place before his eyes. A few bites later, he swallowed the bread and grabbed a nearby glass, chugging it down. Flensor slammed the flask onto the table and wiped his mouth with his right forearm, he quickly got out of his seat and examined the battle before him.

All of the combatants was occupied with someone except one, a Human who was engaged with the Zabrak and had no one to worry about. Flensor grabbed his chair and lifted it up, giving out a groan in the process. The thing was pretty heavy for a chair, he bent his knees and threw the chair at the Human trooper, hitting him square in the back. The trooper fell to the ground with the chair right on his back, he got up as quickly as he fell, swatting the chair aside. He looked at Flensor with a very barbaric look and stood there. Flensor responded to the man's look by giving him a very scared and cowardly gaze. The Human appeared to have a hobby in lifting weights, he had muscles popping out of his uniform nearly everywhere. Despite his very muscular build. the man was very short for Imperial standards, he was 5'7. "Why the hell does the tall guy always have to deal with the midget in these fights?"

The short trooper let out a barbaric yell and ran towards Flensor, shaking his right fist in the air. Flensor quickly grabbed Dunny's chair and threw it at the trooper, hitting him square in the chest. The short trooper fell to the floor, giving out a loud thud as he fell. He walked towards the trooper with a victorious grin on his face. As he neared the trooper, he quickly pushed himself up and charged at Flensor, catching him completely off guard. The trooper dove into Flensor like a missile and drove them both into the ground. Flensor fell on his back while the trooper fell ontop of Flensor. Flensor felt as if his lungs had collapsed when he made contact with the ground, he gazed around the cafeteria and saw no one helping the bunch, just watching them and cheering on. The trooper adjusted himself so that he has both of his knees on the ground and in between the gaps of his arms. The trooper sent his right fist into Flensor's face and made contact with his left eye. Flensor's head recoiled backward due to the force and gazed around in a dazed manner. The trooper sent his left slugger into Flensor's face and slammed his knuckles against Flensor's right cheek. Flensor's head recoiled again and he stared at the trooper, barely awake. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the next wrecking ball that was en-route to his face.

OOC:

WC: 828 Who needs fist when you have chairs!

Sam Jack Dunn swore under his breath as he saw one of the Stormtroopers fall down right beside him – and from the look of the blood covering the man’s face, he wasn’t going to get up anytime soon. Now that was more bloody like it – he didn’t know who was swinging in to help out, but he owed whomever it was a Correllian ale. Another swift jab to the jaw of the human that he was currently beating on kept the Stormtrooper from trying to get back up again, but the man showed no signs of passing out just yet – it was obvious that Dunny was going to have to lay down a bit more of a beating first. Damn it, his fist was hurting, his back was hurting, and his head was hurting as well, but he wasn’t about to let the rest of the Nightshrike Squadron down.

He spotted the Zabrak go down for the second time out of the corner of his eye, and shook his head – damnit, they were pilots, not trained shock-troops like the Stormtroopers that they were brawling against! He knew he couldn’t keep up his current level of activity forever, or even that much longer. Another pair of punches discouraged the Stormie he was pinning down from doing anything, but until the guy passed out, Sam wasn’t going to be able to do much more than that. He raised his fist to rain down another punch, before a flash of blue caught his eye, and his body felt as if it was being electrocuted by a thousand tiny wires. His vision flashed blue, then white, and then everything faded to black…


Imperial Marine Ressel Pilate watched as the blue rings from his Blastech DH-17’s stun setting surrounded the human pilot and his stormtrooper victim, and knocked them both unconscious, keeping his blaster aimed at the two for the entire time. Reports of a bar-brawl had only just reached the response team, and he was just glad they had gotten there before the disturbance could spread ‘too’ far. The black-clad navy trooper then turned his blaster towards the tall Imperial pilot and the far shorter human that was trying to crash-tackle him to the ground, but a set of blue rings shot out from the weapon of one of his fellow marines, and the two collapsed to the ground quickly. It had been a damn long day, and it was clear that the marines simply had no patience for this kind of thing.

Another two shots knocked out the rest of the combatants, and only after all resistance had been crushed did the four Navy Troopers whom had responded to the fighting step aside and let a pair of Imperial Medical Officers walk past, dressed in the white and red uniform of their profession. They quickly and efficiently laid the combatants of both sides in a pair of neat rows, and began to inspect them for injuries. The Zabrak and four of the Stormtroopers were definitely going to have to be sent down to medical – but everyone else was going to be dragged down to the brig to cool off. With a sigh, Ressel hoisted one of the pilots over his shoulder and started walking down towards the brig of the Halcyon Warrior. Someone was going to be in trouble before the day was out.

OOC:

WORD COUNT: 561. This concludes NIGHTSHRIKE:SHAKEDOWN, and the continuation will be in the new main story – unless you’re a Zabrak, you’re probably starting off in your bunk or the brig. Good work on the activity everyone!