Raigen inserted his Imperial chain-code chip into the dataslot of Last Resort's control panel as he slowed his approach of the antiquated flagship.

    "Hailing Flag Ship Dead Gun, my IFF transponders are disabled. This is Gozanti Freighter Last Resort transmitting Imperial chain-code for authorized docking." Raigen pushed down on the blue, backlit button next to the dataslot initializing the radio transmission.

      "Dead Gun to Last Resort, stand-by."  Raigen pulled back on the throttle lever to the left of his knee and flicked a toggle on the overhead panel that was labeled A.T.R. Automated thruster response was a telemetry program that detected unintentional ship movement and compensated with engine input and directional combat thrusters. Raigen had designed this system as an early detection and countermeasure against tractor beams.

    "Welcome back, Mr. Tei-Yehn. Due to your ships size well have to bring you in via tractor beam. Disable inertial dampners and cut thrust and we'll bring you in nice and slow into the main hanger." Raigen knew the response was reflectional and the communications technician he was talking to probably knew that Raigen was rated to bring in the Gozanti under its own power, but procedures took precedent over pride.

    Raigen relaxed as the freighter, more of a light cruiser, was gentle taken by the tractor beam and pulled across the vacuum inside the gentle blue glow of the hanger's shield. A marvel of engineering, even to Raigen, the shield allowed metal and biological matter to penetrate it's illuminescent membrane, but rejected gas, plasma, and electrons. This allowed the breathable air provided by the ship's life support to remain in the hanger as ships passed back and forth.

    Inside the hanger, Raigen pulled down on the small level activating the landing gear hydraulics before the man on the radio could instruct him too. Last Resort came to a gentle halt on the polished durasteel deck below him. Raigen wondered how many shuttles they had to move to make room for him. . .one. . .two?

    "Kaythree, power it down and open the refueling doors. . .and let the crew handle it. I'll be back before you know it." Kaythree's transparent dome illuminated and spun with a series of whirrs indicating both his objection and his acknowledgement. Raigen began the long walk from the cockpit through the main control room to a gangway near the rear of the ship with a small ladder leading down through the crew quarters and into the lower cargo area where the loading ramp was. Upon descending the loading ramp, he was met with a familiar face.

    "You've got a lot of guts, coming here after what you pulled!" Xell Zeedrick smiled and reached out to embrace Raigen.

The sound of the engine sputtering and spitting filled the hanger, echoing off of the various shop clutter piled in the corners. It was a guttural sound. As if the engine itself had grown sentience and was now fighting for its breath. Clings and clangs joined the cacophony as the entire ship shuttered with the vibration of the struggling engine. There was a loud bang, though this time it was not the engine or the ship that was the cause. It was a hefty wrench grasped in the hand of a clearly frustrated zabrak. Her pale yellow skin flushed and covered with smears of grease and oil as she slams the wrench against the hull of the Redthorn.

“C’mon you stupid thing,” she snarled as she poised to smash her wrench into the hull again. The sputtering and spitting of the engine ceased suddenly and settled into a purring roar. The zabrak lowered the wrench, a smirk replacing the frustrated snarl.

There was a clatter as someone came around the corner and into the shop. He grumbled as he struggled to step over the discarded bits and pieces of droids and ships as they tumbled from the pile he bumped into and across the floor. “This place is a mess. I’ll be glad to leave, and hopefully soon.” He kicked a broken and rusted piece of chassis out of the way and moved in closer to the Redthorn and the zabrak.

He was an older man with tawny skin, gray eyes, and shoulder length hair in streaks of deep browns and grays, some of which was tied back. “By the sounds of it that may be sooner rather than later?”

What little smirk there was on the zabrak woman’s face faded as soon as her work was questioned. “I don’t know, Sionn, are you going to keep interrupting me?” She glared at the human from behind her goggles.

Sionn raised a brow and he sighed. “No need to be so snappy, Kest. The ol’ girl just sounds better than she did.”

“Yeah yeah.” The wrench was placed on the work table at Kest’s side and she turned to look at the ship as a whole. “She is sounding better. Only a few more tweaks and the Ghost should be ready.”

She wasn’t that old of a ship, but she had certainly seen her fair share of stressful years while under the command of her Captain. A Redthorn-class scout vessel, with two laser cannons - the second having been added as a modification - and basic shields. The hull was scarred and battered yet there was a clear sign of care being taken to repair what could be repaired over the years. The lasting damage marred what was left of the deep red paint of the duralloy that was once brilliant and new, now appearing old and chipped. Just under the viewport there was a nameplate, designating her the Renegade Ghost.

Kest gave the hull a pat. “That last run sure gave her a hit. Wish we had seen the debris field before stumbling elbow deep into it, but oh well.” She turned back to the work table and picked up a spanner. She eyed the engine, listening closely to the purr that she had beaten back into it. She readied the spanner and was about to go back to work but another clatter of discarded parts echoed in the shop again.

“Gorramit, this shop is a cesspool! Kest! How much longer?” The voice was a growl of frustration but there was a clear sense of anxiety behind it.

Kest’s eyes closed as she stifled an exasperated sigh, doing her best to keep her temper in check. Having her work questioned was one of her most triggering pet peeves. “Not much longer, Cap. Three, maybe seven standard hours depending on if I can find the last few parts I need in this ‘cesspool’ as you call it. The shields need a new gen-”

“Make it two hours. I got a comm that I was somewhat expecting but am not that happy about.”

Kest scoffed. “Yeah, Jace, the not happy part is pretty obvious.”

Jacen Caldwin shot a glare at the zabrak with his one green eye, the left cybernetic one whirring quietly as it also settled on Kest. “Don’t start, not right now. I’ll check my attitude when we get moving. Two hours and we go, coords are already sent to the nav-system,” he looked to Sionn as he finished.

The co-pilot nodded. “Understood, Captain.” He stepped over the pile of parts that he knocked over when he came into the shop and reached out to put a hand on Jacen’s shoulder. “Lets go make you some tea, since that’s the cleanest thing Kest’s friend can offer in this hovel.”

“I’m sure if he actually knew we were coming to use his shop he would have cleaned up a bit!” Kest growled as she went back to work on the ship as Sionn and Jacen walked out.



The kettle screamed as steam erupted from its spout. It quieted as Sionn pulled it from the fire and brought it to the table where Jacen was sitting with his head in his palms and a cup in front of him. Sionn poured the hot water into the cup, the leaves at the bottom of it swirled about and almost immediately gave a deep color and sweet aroma to the water.

“Your third cup in less than two hours, Captain. I haven’t seen you this anxious in a while.” Sionn filled his own cup, only on his second, before he set the kettle aside and sat across from Jacen. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen a lot of those people hasn’t it?”

Jacen nodded before bringing his cup to his lips and taking a long gulp. He ignored the heat and the burn of his lips, hoping that it would help ground him from his anxiety a little bit. He set the cup back down and looked across the table to Sionn. “Yeah, it’s uh. It’s certainly been a while.”

“Is that why you’re so on edge?” Sionn took a sip.

“That, among other reasons.” Jacen took another long gulp of the tea and set it down before plucking one of the stray leaves from his bottom lip and tossing it aside. The tea may be clean but the kitchen of Kest’s friend's place was just as messy as the shop. Jacen was sure one stray tea leaf added to the piles wouldn’t matter. “Long story, lot of history. I just wanna get out there and help if I can. They wouldn’t call back vets if it wasn’t important.”

“You think they called back more than just you?”

Jacen chuckled. “I’m just one crazy moron out of a lot. I’m sure they called in the whole calvary, or at least anyone who would actually listen to the comm rather than ignore it.” Jacen was about to take the final sip of his tea but stopped as he saw Kest enter the cluttered kitchen.

The zabrak was panting softly, leaning against the threshold with exhaustion clear on her face. “All set, Cap. She just needs to warm up for a few minutes to shake off the dust and we can get going.” Kest reached up to wipe a huge smear of grease from her cheek, but only made it worse since there was plenty of grease already on her glove. “Where are we going anyways?”

Jacen nodded at Kest, threw back the rest of his tea before tossing the cup to the piles and stood. “We’re heading to Tadath.”

Tonto had never been one for all the flash and pomp that seemed pervasive among those chosen to work at the academy. Aside from a few of the higher-ups, there was a stench of superiority in the air everywhere at the academy. One too many late calls to formation had been enough for Tonto's squad leaders to assign him to the armory here on Tadath for the last ten years. He sat inside the armory using a deep cleaning powdered acid to remove bits of carbon from the ancient E-11 blasters that had been signed out by one of the recruit platoons and returned after a day of use.

There was something to be said about being able to repair any of the existing troop-grade weapons systems. There was also something to be said for getting the actual field experience necessary to use the weapons. Tonto had been part of different active squads in the Stormtrooper Corps and had filled different roles in those squads. Sometimes, after a day of recleaning weapons that had been returned to the armory by recruits after they failed to fully remove carbon scorching or returned a weapon that was malfunctioning, Tonto longed for those days in the field. The best plans and tactics came from the manuals, but the best and brightest soldiers could be found in the moments of innovation and improvisation in a mission where parts of the plan were constantly being stitched back together. He had read the history books. It was this principle that had allowed the clones to triumph over the separatists. The ability for each individual to think and act in the best interest of mission completion without needing to wait for the next order to come through. 

A datapad interrupted his thoughts as it beeped quietly from the armory desk behind him. He gently placed the E-11 on the workstation in front of him and turned to answer the datapad. He saw the title of the message read Orders.

Orders? Like hell. No one is coming to rescue you from the armory.

He opened the message. It contained a cryptic message detailing a private cargo ship, one other trooper that he would meet there, and a flight to some muster on a fleet-level ship that was scheduled to take place. The orders were signed by the armory quartermaster, his direct CO with special instructions to close shop for the day and pack immediately. It also detailed that he would be assigned to a new command upon arrival.

I have never seen orders for transfer without the prior and follow-on commands listed. What even is this?

In the end, it did not matter. Orders were orders. Tonto was getting a second chance to be a better soldier. To do what he wished he had done on his first go around as a member of the infantry squads instead of being a brickhead of an eighteen-year-old who landed himself in a permanent armory position.

He turned away from the datapad and back to his workbench. He carefully hung all of the delicate instruments back on the pegboard and wiped down the table. He took the E-11 to the weapon locker, thumbed it open, and put it in the lockable slot. He shut the locker and turned back to the open passthrough window. He reached up and pulled down the metal gate that secured the front-facing portion of the armory. He walked to the back of the armory and punched open the door. He took one last deep breath memorizing this smell. This stink of weapon cleaning agents was the smell of mediocrity that he would burn into his brain and remember any time he thought about oversleeping or missing a muster in the future.

He stepped out and closed the door to the armory. He punched in the four-digit armorer code on the datapad on the wall to lock it down fully.

Tonto sprinted down the hall toward the trooper quarters. The academy housed thousands of VE troopers, trainers, and recruits. The trooper barracks were not far off from the armory and he needed to lock down his personal gear before leaving.

In the barracks, a few troopers were in their racks resting. Some were reading, and some were talking in small clusters in the large bunk room. Tonto hustled in doing his best not to make it seem like he was in a hurry to be somewhere else. He grabbed a set of civilian clothes from the trunk at the foot of his bed. A simple pair of tan pants and a deep brown traveling jacket with a white t-shirt. He stripped down to his undergarments and quickly changed into his civvies. He took all of his small possessions that were in or around his bed and shoved them into a small pack. It was not even half full, but Tonto had basically lived on base and in uniform for years aside from one or two other pairs of clothes. The rest of his possessions were in a storage unit on Tadath for when or if he ever purchased a home.

He slung the pack over his back and moved out of the barracks. He would need to catch a turbo-shuttle to the spaceport.

================1 hour later================

Tonto stepped out of the shuttle and into the busy spaceport. People bustled in all different directions. He saw people reuniting with family members as ships disembarked. He also saw ships loading up with new passengers of people, military and civilian, off on vacation or on a permanent change of station.

He walked quickly through the spaceport port heading for the area where cargo ships were being loaded. He saw the ship he was looking for. The name was the same as the one that had been on his datapad in the armory.

“Hey Ton-Ton. Going on a little vacay?” Asked a familiar voice.

Lance Corporal Drex had snuck up behind him. An old friend from the academy, Drex was one of Tonto’s favorite training partners. Drex had nodded toward the cargo ship that Tonto was just preparing to board. Tonto’s face broke into a giddy grin.

“No, just off to save the universe.” He quipped. “Let's get going.”

Time for a little change of scenery he thought as Tonto and Drex walked quickly onto the cargo ship and found some space to sit near the back of the hold.

No one came and checked the ship again. The ramp into the hold closed a few minutes after they boarded, and the ship moved off toward whatever new future Tonto had just been assigned to.

“Well, Jedi, do you still want to draw your lightsaber?” The creature once called Moelik Hond asked.

Between the two was a stone table, worn by centuries, chipped and moss covered. Around them, rain fell in the thick forest.

The Jedi, a human man in his late forties with a rough beard and silver streaked brown hair, looked at the lightsaber in front of him, then to his opposite, the Sith, who wore an old vacuum suit barely armored; their helmet was on the table next to an old blaster, but it was their face that was hard to look away from, a sickly sunken Chiss with lips cracked and bleeding from talking and a mouth filled with black saliva. They were grotesque, but they sat there under the cover of an ancient and ruined stone roof, talking.

The Jedi wished they’d learned more how to look into another’s mind, but all they got was the surface of the Sith’s, and it was only curiosity.

“You don’t deny you are Sith,” the Jedi said, slowly without looking away from his lightsaber.

“I do not,” the Sith said.

“And you will not turn away from the ways of the Sith?” The Jedi said, moving only his eyes to look at his opposite.

“I will not,” the Sith said.

The Jedi reached his hand out, hesitantly hovering it over the lightsaber in front of him.

“Then I cannot let you leave this planet,” He said.

“I must leave,” The Sith said, his arms still resting in his lap.

Around them the rain fell, pattering off leaves and running down stonework. Weather worn stone faces cried, their rainwater tears running down through grooves worn into their faces long before either man sitting below had been born.

The Jedi wrapped his hand around the lightsaber and stood up, activating the green blade. The Sith sighed and pushed himself, reluctantly, to his feet.

“Let me go back to my ship, we don’t have to fight, but I can’t take you off this planet,” The Jedi said.

“So you’d rather I die slowly?” The Sith said.

The Jedi paused.

“I, I could end it, quick, if you want,” The Jedi’s words were soft, empathetic, and wrong.

The Sith shook his head, grinning ruefully, “My life may look wretched to you, but it’s mine.”

“Then I have to stop you,” The Jedi’s hands tensed around his lightsaber, a lightsaber The Sith had barely acknowledged.

The Sith laughed, it was a wet, gravelly thing, like meat and bone in a grinder, “stop me from what? Living?”

“Your path leads to destruction, death, domination,” The words came from The Jedi’s mouth like somebody else’s voice, rote recitation.

“All paths lead to death,” The Sith said with a shrug, “I’d just rather later than sooner.”

The Jedi’s knuckles whitened around the lightsaber hilt, to his ears the buzz of its blade deafened the rain around them.

“Are you not going to pick up your blaster?” He asked.

The Sith blinked and The Jedi realized, finally, that it was the first time he’d seen the man do that. He looked so much like a corpse, his appearance was unsettling enough, that The Jedi hadn’t even realized, the man didn’t blink.

“Why? Power pack’s been drained for, I dunno, years. I wear it for your comfort, not mine,” The Sith looked amused.

“You’re mocking me,” The Jedi said, an edge crept into his voice.

“No,” The Sith said, “I just don’t have much use for one anymore.”

The Jedi squared his shoulders, exhaled. If The Sith wouldn’t pick up a weapon, he was probably hiding one. Or he didn’t need one, but The Jedi pushed that thought out of his mind.

“I don’t think you’re evil,” The Jedi said, “but the Dark Side will consume you. You still have time to turn back.”

“Look at me,” The Sith said, taking a step to one side of the table and picking up their helmet, “this isn’t exactly a cold.”

It was something of a relief, The Jedi hated to admit, when his opposite put the expressionless metal helmet over his head and hid his face. The inscrutability of blank steel was more comforting than the Chiss’s rotting face.

“I’m going to start walking now,” The Sith said, his voice given an electronic distortion from the helmet, “I’m going to walk onto your ship and find somewhere to sit down until you leave this planet.”

The lightsaber in The Jedi’s hands relaxed as he found a moment of clarity and focus. His apprentice was on the ship and she was still young, barely 20. Even The Jedi had found The Sith’s talk of freedom and broken chains persuasive, and he had the years and experience to know better than to listen to a Sith. He couldn’t let this man, this creature, near her.

The Jedi made a quick cut at The Sith with the tip of his lightsaber blade. The Sith avoided it with a shrug, moving his shoulder just far enough away from the blade to avoid contact.

“You’d have made a good Dark Jedi,” The distorted voice said, tinged with disappointment.

Jumping onto the stone table between them, The Jedi cut down at the armored Sith only to have his blade slapped away. Weird, but a Sith would have lightsaber resistant armor. It looked like a pretty basic vacuum suit, armored against debris, but hardly a combat model.

The Jedi jumped off the table, cutting down at his enemy as he flipped over the man, but The Sith just stepped to the side. As he landed, The Jedi pulled on The Sith’s stone chair with The Force, hitting him in the side and sending him stumbling into the rain. With The Sith off balance, The Jedi dove into him, cutting quickly from side to side, but The Sith’s forearm was always there to meet the blade and deflect it. He took a step back as rain pelted him on the head and sizzled as it hit the blade of his lightsaber.

Something was off in The Force, for all the time they’d talked, The Sith’s presence in The Force had been minimal, but now it was different. He couldn’t quite say why, or how, but something felt wrong.

If they’d both held lightsabers, the blades would barely be touching, standing a few paces away from each other. The Sith’s breath came heavy and distorted through the helmet; rain ran into The Jedi’s eyes. They stood for a moment, one’s face unreadable behind his helmet, the other’s set in grim determination, watching his opponent.

The Sith moved first, two big steps to one side, stepping into a punch aimed at The Jedi’s gut. The Jedi barely had time to tense him muscles before it hit him, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t take; he brought the pommel of his lightsaber down on the back of The Sith’s head with a crack of breaking plasteel. The Jedi had The Force, strengthening and quickening him, and The Sith was dazed. The Jedi kneed the man in the stomach, too close now for the blade, and The Sith fell backwards, but managed to turn it into a roll away.

“Not bad, not bad,” The Sith said, “But you’re no Jegora Fal.”

The Jedi focused, ignoring the rain, the banter, the broken rib, and pulled The Force into his lightsaber. The Sith was just outside his range, but he put all his muscle behind a thrust that would come up short, using the blade to focus The Force. As The Sith stepped forward, he was hit in the chest by a push that threw him from his feet and against one of the large redwood trunks with a crunch. He slid down and crumpled on the ground.

The Jedi’s teacher had instilled in him that Sith were tricksters, their nature was deceit, so he approached the crumpled form cautiously, with his lightsaber extended. He was glad he did when he could hear distorted wheezing, low and quiet. The Sith raised a hand, surrendering maybe. The Jedi didn’t finish relaxing before the hand continued moving and pulled the helmet off.

“I was,” the creature said, “really liking this vacc suit.”

The Sith looked up at him with pity. Pity of all things. The Jedi’s hand tightened on his lightsaber and he made a wide overhead chop towards the Chiss.

The Sith caught the blade.

He didn’t deflect it, he didn’t block it, he caught it in his hand. The absurdity of it gave The Jedi pause, and then he noticed The Force, the wrongness of it, like being burned by a trash fire and the taste of battery acid on his tongue.

He turned his lightsaber off and sprung back a few paces, putting him back under the stone cover, by where he’d ripped an ancient stone chair from the ground. As he watched The Sith stand up, he realized the sound of rain sizzling on a lightsaber blade had grown louder and he saw steam rising from The Sith.

“Every fucking time I meet somebody with a lightsaber, they try to stab me with it,” The Sith said, “it’s getting old.”

“Apprentice,” The Jedi said, touching a finger to the comm in their ear.

“Master, do you need help?” She said in his ear, far too eager.

“Take the ship into orbit, if you don’t hear from me in a few hours, get out of the system,” He said.

“Wha-”

“Please, it’s important.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” The Sith yelled, exasperated, “I just want a fucking ride. Stars and gods, you’d have been a good fit for The Order.”

Raigen and Xell quickly found themselves in benign conversation over a couple of cups of black Imperial Brew caf. Xeedrick had began with the various malfunctions and problems with the starfighters. Raigen continued with stoic recitations of ways to fix those problems. The topic turned to Raigen's retirement. Raigen went into great detail on the personal modifications he had made to the Last Resort, and how he planned to use it to collect parts from derelict ships, rebuilding them and selling them to spacers.

    "You haven't changed a bit. Still have your head in an exhaust port." Zeedrick was more natural in his small talk. He seemed generally interested in Raigen and his life. Raigen, in contrast, was stoic.

    "What's this about, Xell. You knew I was coming aboard so you must be cleared for it." Raigen finished his caf and tapped the mug down on the durasteel table. He looked across the table into Zeedricks eyes.

    "If I was you know I couldn't tell you that."

    "Cut the crap, Xell. If I'm here that means I'm cleared for it so spill it so I know if it's worth sticking around for." Raigen watched Xell's pupils dilate before they scanned the room.

    "Really. . .you might finally get back in the saddle and you're wondering if it's worth it?"

    "I'm wondering what kind of half cooked plan they plan on dropping in our laps." Raigen pushed the mug to the side and leaned over the table.

    "Where's the shit, Xell. . .somethings wrong." Raigen knew Xell was holding back. It was the fight of flight response. Xell had no reason to fear Raigen. Something had gone amiss prior to his arrival.

    Xell finished his caf and set the mug down on the table with both hands, sighing. ". . .Tech issue. Might make the mission more dangerous. . .might ground the thing entirely. I can't say more. You'll have to talk to whoever you're reporting to." Xell relaxed a bit on his stool, his load a little lighter.

    "Something I can fix?" Raigen offered, leaning back. He seemed similarly looser now that the tension had broken.

    "No chance. Not on our time frame anyway. And you didn't hear this from me, but at least you won't go in blindsided."

    Raigen nodded. "Well. . .what's frakkin new. We never were firing on all cylinders around here."

    Both men shared a laugh. It was Raigen who got up to retrieve another round. The mess hall was empty. Just two friends sharing information over a hot drink.

It has been some time... time since the days of the Vast Empire. Since the Battle of Belgaroth. Since that fateful accident that nearly killed the former Warrant Officer and Squadron Commander of the 175th Vast Imperial TIE Interceptor Squadron under the 27th Phoenix Wing attached to the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Halcyon Warrior of the 2nd Fleet of the Vast Imperial Navy. The first few years were spent recovering back home on Onderon, after the civil war had finally come to an end. The Royalist faction had retaken full control of the planet and of the Dxun moon, putting an end to the insurrectionist threat once and for all. Queen Anora Kira had stepped down shortly after Cayden was brought back home, and her daughter, Talia Tavers, took the throne and was coronated Queen of Onderon and Dxun. Peace and stability had finally been brought back to Onderon... but it would not last forever.

The New Republic, quickly expanding itself and it's reach following the collapse of the final Imperial forces over Jakku, and the internal collapse of the Vast Empire as a credible threat from the Outer Rim, found itself sending envoys and dignitaries to the various worlds of the galaxy in order to, as they put it, 'form a more perfect union in which all may benefit and prosper.' Onderon, having just ended their own internal conflicts after breaking free from Imperial rule, was not ready to return to a greater galactic community. Instead, Queen Talia, under the guidance of her husband Dorn and her children, began a program of military expansion to secure the Prael Sector from piracy and other unsavory entities. Old Republic surplus was purchased and refurbished before being put into service, the flagship of the growing Onderonian Royal Navy being a rebuilt and upgraded Acclamator-class Assault Ship. Other vessels, such as the Sphyrna-class Hammerhead Corvettes made popular by the Rebel Alliance during the Galactic Civil War and CR-90 Corvettes, and some newer vessels such as a pair of Longhorn-class Escort Cruisers and even a pair of the Bothan Assault Frigates recently put on the market by Bothawui Shipyards. Angela and Cayden oversaw the fleshing out of the Onderonian Royal Navy during these years, with practical input being submitted by Cayden on what capital vessels and fighters to obtain to fill their ranks.

For Cayden, returning to life on Onderon proved difficult, especially during those first years being essentially tied to the bed where his old childhood friend Arianna Blaire would help him recover, after having finally caught up with him after her brief stint of duty within the Vast Empire. She even commanded his old squadron before it was retired. Life was... for lack of a better word, peaceful. But even then, with everything at his disposal, Cayden kept a watchful eye on the HoloNet, listening to news broadcasts and other less reputable stories he could find. Spoke to shady travelers as they passed through the Starport District. At the end, he could only hear one thing... that war was coming for the galaxy again. Whispers of a growing First Order, some sort of self-proclaimed inheritors of the Galactic Empire, rising in the Unknown Regions. And even less reputable rumors being tossed around that the former Grand Admiral Thrawn had returned. He didn't want to get involved... he didn't want to go back to that life. But he knew he had to. He knew that if he didn't, how could he look himself in the mirror knowing that he could have done something. So... he made a decision.

== Onderonian Royal Palace - Throne Room - 23 ABY ==

Cayden stood in front of the throne, his mother Talia sitting upon it. Next to her on her right was her husband, his father, Dorn. On her left stood an aging general who was once the head instructor of the Onderonian Royal Academy. Cayden was dressed in the formal uniform of the Onderonian Royal Navy, a stylized version of the Imperial Naval Uniform using the Imperial rank insignia while also sporting the ceremonial sash of the Onderonian Royal Family. On his right shoulder was the insignia of the Onderonian Royal Family, on his left was the patch of the Onderonian Starfighter Corps. A blaster rested in its holster on his right thigh, polished to a shine. He let out a gentle sigh as he spoke. "I'm only asking to be able to take a fighter - my personal fighter - to go and substantiate these rumors. Nothing more. And if I don't find anything, I come straight back here and resume my duties," he said as he look at the three individuals in front of him.


"And what if you do find something, hmm??" the old general asked, taking a step forward. "Your Highness, we simply cannot allow your son to go off gallivanting across the galaxy on a wild lolthcat chase because he heard some hearsay about some... First Order... who might try to force us back under Imperial control!"

Talia merely observed and listened, listening to her son and the general argue.

"If I do find something... well, I might know of a few people who can help. Or at least, distract this First Order so that Onderon may be able to survive. If I am forced to engage with the First Order... well..." He said, trailing off as he was attempting to think of something coherently clever.

"... That is why he won't be going alone" a female voice from behind Cayden said.

He quickly turned around and saw Arianna Blaire walking into the throne room, dressed in a similar uniform to him, sans sash. She stopped next to him and gave him a slight smile.

"Commander Blaire... it's bad enough that he wants to go. We cannot spare two of our senior officers during this time of crisis!" the general rebuked, huffing and crossing his arms out of frustration.

"What crisis? You mean the peace we have enjoyed for around two decades? The revitalization of our economic sector? We even have planetary governments and the New Republic buying samples of our flora and fauna to reseed devastated worlds from the war! Onderon is in a new golden age, and you call that a crisis?" Cayden retorted as he took a slight step forward. "Or do you mean the advent of a criminal organization trying to establish itself upon the Dxun moon to disrupt trade routes? That is a job for planetary security, not the Navy. Cameron is the one you want to talk to about that."

"You know as well as I do that they have a number of ships that have been evading our defensive patrols for months!" the old general said loudly, hands balling into fists slightly.

"And you know as well as I do General that the Royal Navy doesn't need the two of us to do the work of the entire Navy!" the young prince answered, his own fists balling up as he took another step toward the general.

"Enough." The voice of the Queen cut through the tension like a vibroknife through flesh. "I do not believe in these rumors, Cayden... but," she said, glancing coldly at the general on her left. "But if you feel strongly enough that these rumors may be true... you and Commander Blaire can go and substantiate them. If they turn out to be true, no heroics. Come right back here and report directly to me. Is that understood?"

The pair of officers gulped slightly as they both nodded and gave Talia a crisp salute.

"Yes mother... investigate then report back here with our findings. No heroics," Cayden summarized, glancing at the general to relish a bit in his discomfort.

"And... seeing as this is an Imperial-aligned faction... take a Gozanti with a detachment of Interceptors as well. No sense in putting you both in further danger by making you investigate this... First Order... while flying the same ships the New Republic does," Talia said with a slight smile.

Cayden nodded slowly as he turned to leave, Arianna following close behind him.

"Good luck, my son... and good hunting," Talia said, the last part softly as she turned to the general to discuss something with him.

Cayden and Arianna stepped out of the throne room and began leaving the Palace, picking up two packed rucksacks they had stashed just outside the throne room doors. Whatever the answer would have been, they had always intended to go investigate. But now... they'll have a small crew and some additional pilots to assist them.

"Arianna, we are going to take the Rising Dawn and her crew. She's already outfitted and carrying a flight of Interceptors, thankfully. She should be in spacedock finishing resupply," Cayden said as he pulled out a datapad and tapped at it. They were making their way down the Sky Ramp and into the city proper. It wasn't too short of a walk to the Starport where they can take a shuttle up to the station in orbit and board the ship. Just through the Main Plaza and down the main boulevard until they reached the Starport. Simple and easy… if it wasn’t for a speeder accident in the middle of the road. The pair came to a stop and looked the scene over, Cayden frowning slightly. “I was hoping to be able to get there quickly…”

“We could always cut through the alleyways to get to the Starport,” Ari said as she pulled out a communicator. “Commander Blaire to Dispatch.”

The speaker on her communicator crackled a bit as a gruff voice cut through. “Dispatch here. How can we help, Commander?”

“There is an accident at the base of the Sky Ramp. Some minor injuries. Two damaged vehicles. Requesting medical personnel to assist those injured," Arianna spoke into the communicator, motioning to Cayden that they should keep moving.

"Affirmative. Medical personnel and security officers have been dispatched. They should arrive within a minute," the Dispatch officer relayed before the comm went silent.

The pair kept moving through the city, making sure to keep clear of the accident as a medical transport and security speeder arrived to secure the area. The walk only lasted for only a few more minutes as they stepped into the congested and pungent Starport. Beings of various worlds moving about, military officers and cadets going over orders for the day off near the fighter hangars. Cayden stopped to peek into the hangar, spying a pair of TIE/In Interceptors, one emblazoned with the insignia of the 153rd Vast Imperial Fighter Squadron Regents and the other bearing the insignia of the 175th Vast Imperial Fighter Squadron Aurora. “Umm… Ari…? What are those…?” He asked as he thumbed toward the pair of Interceptors.

Arianna quickly ran over and stopped next to him, looking into the bay before letting out a slightly audible groan. “I told them they go in the museum… Sorry, Cayden. I was hoping for them to be a a surprise…” she said as she rubbed the back of her head. “They’re for your exhibit in the Royal Museum…”

“… my exhibit?” He asked, raising a brow. “ But I don’t have an exhibit.”

“You do… it’s just not done yet,” Ari replied as she moved around him, pulling out her datapad and opening images of what has been put together for the exhibit. They showed some video reports and testimonials of citizens and Onderonian soldiers talking about his exploits during the Civil War… they even had his old Imperial flight suit that he was found in after Belgaroth. “I was working with the curator and your mother to put it together…”

Cayden placed his hand on the datapad and looked her in the eyes, speaking softly. “I don’t know what to say-”

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s not even done yet. Once they get the fighters in, then they-“ she interrupted before he cut her off.

“- except thank you, Arianna,” he finished, giving her a light smile. “It’s… not often I’m thanked or given praise for what I did during the war… least of all while I was in the service of the Vast Empire. I did what I had to do to learn the skills… get the resources… and make the contacts that I did in order to save our world. So thank you Ari… it means the world to me.” He wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace and held her close.

She stared up at him, her cheeks tinged a light pink as he pulled her into the hug, her own arms slowly wrapping around him as she closed her eyes, a slightly pained smile crossing her face. “Of course, Cayden… it’s what friends are for…” It hurt her to say that last part… ‘friends’… maybe she should finally tell him? This would be the perfect time to do it… “Cayden, I-“

He held her for a few more moments before interrupting her. “We can’t take those fighters up then. For the best, probably. Come on… we can catch a shuttle up to spacedock that leaves in a few minutes,” he said as he let her go and began walking back down the hall to the other side of the Starport.

Arianna stared after him for a few moments, a blank expression on her face before she smiled lightly, shaking her head. “Always on the move…” she said to herself, quickly taking off after him. The pair were about to round the corner and start approaching the shuttle when her datapad went off. She pulled it out quickly and flipped to the message, slowing to a stop as she read it’s contents.

Cayden turned back to her as he was about to start boarding the shuttle when he saw her several paces behind. Slowly, he went back over to her and tapped her on the shoulder a few times,. “Hey… you okay?”

She looked up at him and slowly gave him the datapad. He took hold of it and read the screen over, his brow furrowing and a frown forming on his lips as he read through the orders. “Report to the Dead Gun, huh…? I mean… we don’t have to follow these orders…” he said softly, continuing to stare at the datapad.

“No, we don’t… it’s not like we owe the very survival of our world to them or anything…” Ari continued, studying Cayden’s face.

“It’s not like serving them was a significant part of our lives… or that the friends we made while there were a big impact on the people we are today…”

Arianna slowly took the datapad back out of his hands and put it away, glancing up at the shuttle behind him before looking up at Cayden. “… we’re going, aren’t we?”

He looked up at her after a moment and nodded, smirking lightly. “Of course… question is… how are we getting there…”

“Well… about that…” Ari said softly, looking around as she turned back around and began heading to the fighter bay. “Both of those Interceptors are equipped with the full package of upgrades standard VE TIEs came with… shields, life support, hyperdrive… the whole kit. We even added a droid interface for the nav-computer, to make calculations for hyperspace jumps faster and easier.”

He watched after her for a second before breaking into a slight grin and jogging after her. Both of them walked into the fighter bay and beelined to the adjoining locker room. It had been some time since either of them wore a flight suit, but the motions were familiar to them… comforting, almost. They took their helmets and put them on before exiting the room, grabbing a pair of duffel bags loaded with their clothing as well as blasters, ammunition, food rations, and whatever other supplies they may need. They both looked up at the pair of racked Interceptors before at each other.

“Next stop… VE space…” Cayden said, smiling inside his helmet.

“See you when we get there, Cayden,” Ari replied, giving him a quick, two-fingered salute before she began riding the gantry lift up to the catwalk over the TIEs.

Cayden hopped onto the other lift and sped upward, crossing the metal catwalk at a brisk pace before he dropped himself down into the cockpit of one of the Interceptors, the one bearing the insignia of Regents Squadron. He gave the controls a scan, taking a moments to let his brain catch up before practiced motions took over. His fingers glided over the controls, toggling switches and pressing several buttons. The fighter came to life around him, lights flickering on. The targeting screen in front of him lit up and displayed several lines of code before it displayed the targeting reticle. He looked over at the side readout display and began going over a quick systems check. Subconsciously, he flipped on his comm and keyed it in to the old Aurora Squadron comm frequency. “Ari…?” He asked over the comm waves.

The speaker in his helmet cracked a bit before her voice came over crystal clear. “Yes Cayden? Is everything alright over there?”

“My readout display is showing that the onboard reactor is putting out more power than it should be? And… hold on…” he said as he changed to a different screen, this one showing lines of text. “Did you… modernize the ship systems?”

A soft chuckle could be heard from the other side of the comm as Arianna replied. “Well… at some point, I figured that you would want to actually fly one of these Interceptors, so… I made sure they could keep pace with some of the up-to-date fighters that are being put out. Shields and weapons draw a bit more power, but they use it more efficiently. Your biggest power draw is still your engines, which now push you a bit faster than you’re used to… You know, to compete with the New Republic A-Wings. In case the New Republic tries to incorporate Onderon through force.”

He smiled wide inside his helmet, nodding as he began powering up the engines. “Of course, of course… to compete with the New Republic… it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re a bit of an adrenaline junkie, is it?”

She scoffed over the comm, but he could hear the smile in it. “What? Me? What about you, mister ‘I’m going to travel halfway across the galaxy to get money and weapons to fight a civil war’?”

“That… well… I suppose I could have just gone to the New Republic, seeing as they were closer… but come on, you’ve got to admit… it was a fun ride,” he replied as he watched everything come to full power.

“That it has…” she said after a moment, thoughtfulness filling her voice. Silence filled the comm before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I… yeah. I’m ready. Sure I was in a coma for a few years… after a combat accident flying in one of these… if there is one thing I’m good for, it’s flying. Now… let's get out of here,” he said as he switched to the frequency for Starport Control. “Control, this is Captain Tavers onboard Interceptor Aurek 1, requesting departure for myself and Aurek 2, over.”

“Aurek 1, this is Control. Transmit launch orders and clearance codes now," a gruff voice came from over the comm.

Cayden tapped at a few icons on the readout display, sending over the requested items.

"Your orders say that you are to take a shuttle to space dock before transferring to the Rising Dawn," Control replied back.

"Yeah, well… Commander Blaire and I figured that, since we were going to need Interceptors anyway, might as well take two up that bear Imperial markings. Hide in plain sight sort of idea," Cay responded as he gave a glance to Arianna's Interceptor. He muted himself on the Control channel as he spoke to her. "I really hope he buys it… otherwise, we're gonna have to-"

"Understood Captain. You and the Commander are cleared for departure. Safe flying and good hunting," Control said as the hangar bay doors opened. The channel went dark after that.

Cayden let out a sigh of relief. "Let's get out of here, Ari," he said as he engaged the repulsor field and guided the fighter out of the hangar.

Arianna was quick on his heels as her own fighter followed his out of the hangar, angling up toward the upper atmosphere. Both fighters began to accelerate up and up quickly, fire rimming the edges of their solar panels and cockpit before they broke free out of the atmosphere and into low orbit and into space. "Okay… hyperspace coordinates set. Ready on your order, Cayden."

He smiled a bit inside his helmet, hands gripping the control yoke as he looked at his display screen. "Alright… Next stop… Vast Imperial space and the Dead Gun," he said, pulling back on the hyperdrive lever. The two fighters began to accelerate quickly before they both slipped into hyperspace, bound for the region of space just past Abrae.

OOC:

WC: 3513

This is part one of two of getting to the Dead Gun. Second post will be going up hopefully around the time the troopers are getting to the Dead Gun.

I won't lie... I really did enjoy writing here again after all this time.

Tonto had tucked himself into a corner of the cargo bay. There were no internal lights in the cargo bay as cargo did not need lights. Drex had slunk away to find a box to lay on and Tonto had sat down. His back on one bulkhead and his head resting against the box to his right. He felt out of place without a uniform or armor. It had been years since he had even ventured off base. Initially, he had been on restriction. His duty posting or the barracks were the only two places he could go for about a year on Tadath. The punishments for junior enlisted being UA for any period could be quite severe. It came with the size of the Vast Empire. There just was not time for the high command to look at every instance of military disobedience case by case. It also had not helped that the high command and elite crews had been working on a coreward push towards Coruscant when Tonto had decided to be a rambunctious youth. His mind drifted as he gently dozed in the dark cargo bay.

The people who had been left behind were the underachievers, the brown nosers, and the less intelligently gifted. Tonto thought he had punched his ticket as an elite trooper in Blackjack squad. It was proof that pride came before the fall. All the elite troopers had received orders not unlike the ones he had received prior to boarding this cargo hauler. Report to blah blah place for blah blah muster. He did not remember the exact details. All he remembered was that he knew he would be gone from Tadath for a long time. His home world. The home of the Stormtrooper Corps. He had jumped on his speeder and gone back to his home town which was about 400 miles away from the Blackjack barracks at the time. A young 19-year-old Tonto had driven his V-35 for four hours to make it home after final muster at the Blackjack barracks. He had gone to his parents and told them that he was leaving for a long time. He had explained that this was all he wanted to do with his life. To live it in service to others. They had been sad and proud and muted all at the same time. They did not say much after he told them he was leaving. Just asked him to be safe, to be strong, and to come back when he could. He made those three promises to them and left.

There are pivotal moments in people’s lives. Moments where one entire life course or another rest in the balance of a singular decision. As Tonto clambered back into his V-35, one of those moments presented itself to him. He could go back to the Blackjack barracks now. It would take him about four hours to return and he would be able to sleep for about six hours before muster at 0700 to leave Tadath. This was the practical thing to do. Being well-rested and ready was a good choice. But that was the road not taken. The alternate life. Tonto instead pulled the door shut on his V-35 and drove two streets over before quietly parking his speeder and getting out. He walked another block and reminisced about how long these blocks had seemed when he was a young boy. He passed a gravel driveway and reached down to scoop up some small rocks.

He stopped in front of a small white two-story house. It had four windows on the front and a deep red roof. A small carport was attached to the side with a speeder under a cover. The front walk was about ten feet long with grass on either side and a four-foot tall chain link fence surrounded the yard. A small mailbox sat on one side of the gate in the fence.

Tonto threw a rock. It sailed through the air and lightly tapped one of the windows.

Nothing.

He threw another rock. A light came on inside of the room and he saw a shadow coming toward the closed blinds. The blinds were pulled back.

Drex kicked his leg hard away from him and his body slumped down the wall squeegee’ing his face down the side of the cargo crate he had been resting against. Tonto lashed out with his extended leg and felt it connect with both of Drex’s ankles. There was a loud thud as the other trooper hit the floor next to Tonto hard.

“You criffing idiot. You were mumbling in your sleep about missing that stupid ship again.”

“I was just getting to the best part of that memory, you actual porg pellet of a human being.”

“We just started slowing down. Why don’t you snap to you spiky-headed rat..”

Sure enough, as Drex said it, Tonto could feel the shift in the contents of his stomach as the ship began to slow. They had reached…well, they had reached wherever this ship was supposed to be taking them. He had no idea where that was or even what to do when the cargo ship had landed.

The orders he had received had been so cryptic. They contained enough information to tell him where to go, but nothing about command, or location he would be arriving at. He had been trying to piece everything together in his head. They had pulled two troopers on administrative duties from the academy staff. That means they were probably pulling troops from the army that people would likely not notice were being changed out. They had sent them off on some random cargo ship, so that meant there would not be a large number of army personnel convening wherever they were going, and finally, they had sent them off with no destination and no reporting command meaning the things that were going to be part of this new assignment had a clearance level that was above both Drex and Tonto. All of that put together led him to…what exactly? A whole lot of mysteries and an opportunity to really put his foot in his mouth when they arrived wherever they were going.

Gravity had not changed much in the cargo bay. It did not feel like they were landing planet side. There were two loud clangs as dock clamps secured the cargo ship in place. A slight sound of decompression as the inside of the ship and the outside of whatever landing or staging area they were in equalized the pressure. The cargo bay door opened. Light flooded in. The cargo ship had landed inside of a massive hangar. Ships were all over the place, landing, taking off, and being ferried into different storage compartments of the ship. Drex and Tonto tried to move inconspicuously off of the cargo ship. They had no bags, so there was nothing to make it look like they had just arrived.

“I am going to try and find the barracks on this boat and see if someone there knows that we are here too.” Said Drex as he began to move toward the open blast doors in the hangar.

“I will see if there is some arriving personnel that I can follow to some form of an army command on this boat.” Replied Tonto. He turned and looked around the hangar. There were not many arriving ships. Plenty of the personnel here were unloading the cargo from all the different cargo haulers, but not many of the ships had people leaving them.

Tonto spotted a shuttle that was just landing. It looked like a Lambda-class shuttle. That usually meant there would be personnel inside. He tried to walk in a casual manner towards the shuttle before realizing that literally no one in the hangar was moving in a casual manner and picking up the pace. The shuttle landed and Tonto had just reached the front of it. Two groups, one group of six and one group of four were exiting from the back of the shuttle. Tonto’s jaw dropped as he recognized one of the group of four that he had been slowly drifting close to.

“SIR!” Tonto exclaimed He snapped to attention and offered a crisp salute as he recognized the legendary retired Second Lieutenant Joamer. Four heads quickly swiveled toward him. Three men and a woman looked at him with bemused expressions except for the Lieutenant who was staring daggers at him.

One of the men hurried forward toward Tonto. As Tonto looked at the four, his eyes focusing on each face, he recognized the woman.

“MAAM” He exclaimed lowering and re-raising an even more ferocious salute as his brain put together the necessary synapses to recognize Brigadier General Ayme Katash.

“Uh.Ladies and Gentleman!” Tonto said realizing that he was actually a criffing idiot like Drex had been telling him for years. He screwed his eyes shut as he held the salute in place.

A hand gently pushed his salute down. “They would prefer if you did not go around showing all the military pomp and circumstance that you are used to from the academy.” Said Jace.

“You hear that, Jace? Someone actually thinks for once I’m a gentleman.” Heliwer chuckled. Jace rolled his eyes.

“He obviously doesn’t know you yet.”

Heliwer shrugged. “I can’t argue with that.” He put a hand on Tonto’s shoulder roughly.

“Better mind those “sirs” and “ma’ams”, kid. This ain’t the parade ground.”

“Aye… I mean right.” Said Tonto before realizing that was exactly what Heliwer was talking about.

“..And we are Senior Sergeants. Those two are the shiny collars.” Said Jace as everyone eased the tension of the moment.

“I was just.. I uh.. I wanted to report for duty, but my orders have no command chain. I was looking for other army personnel to report in with and I guess I got a little flustered. 10 years of working at the academy has made some fairly deeply ingrained reactions.” He said hoping that this would ameliorate some of the tension.

Tonto looked hopefully at the four other army members around him hoping that the next thing someone said would tell him where to go. He was not cut out for all this decision-making stuff. He had never assumed that officers would smell so much like they were sweating out a bottle of whiskey.

Smoke filled the tiny cabin, acrid and pungent. The taste of the plastic that was sparking in the small dark pod, rich on his tongue. Panic engulfed him, taking hold of his body and breaths coming short, sweat starting to pool around his brow, veins bulging front he effort as the oxygen ran out.

Anival suddenly sat up, the effects of the memory still clinging onto his mind. It was just a dream. He reminded himself. Just a dream..or a memory? Or the memory of a dream. He couldn’t recall anymore. The years had passed and the full memory was mostly gone, now just its shadows haunted him. To this day he couldn’t stand tight spaces. The memory of just being in that smoking failing escape pod. The endless weeks waiting for a call that never came, but what filled him with dread the most was not knowing the whereabouts of his comrades.

Throughout the years he had floated from place to place, finally settling on Valahari. He was known in the neighborhood for fixing speeders cheaply. In other circles he was called on to smuggle the occasional item or two. It was work, and kept him occupied. The rush of the battlefield was in his blood, and he always chased that high. It was a curse, wanting to go back to what he was, but knowing he was a shadow of the man he had been forged into. His younger self would have never smuggled, or wallowed in drink. Even as the thought popped into his mind he could smell the stale whiskey on him, even stronger the smell of the effects of overconsumption. A loud dry cough interrupted his wallowing, and he cleared his throat. Anival got up and lit a cigarette to cover the smell as well as to nourish the craving.

Looking around the room he spotted a stain he knew had to be cleaned, the source of the sour smell. The room itself was dimly lit, the sun's rays peeking through the curtain and resting on his datapad, an old thing from his old life. It was always there, always charged, but nothing on it. It had been fourteen years give or take, and he hadn’t heard anything. He dreamed some days that he was piloting a LAAT/i into combat, blaster bolts flying every which way. The knowledge that each person trusted the other implicitly. The sense of belonging, of being a part of a whole.  Those were the days. Strange what some yearned for. Stranger still, at least to him, was that he felt empty.

The void he felt, he tried to fill with worldly pleasures, but nothing came close. The despondence of knowing it was all gone was too much to bear. Choking back tears, and a sob that he knew would send him off into the depths of despair, he walked into the refresher. He peeled off his clothing and let it pile like so much trash, like peeling off his sadness. The hot water did wonders for him, soothing aching muscles, and washing away some blood to reveal bruises he didn’t know he had. A fight must have broken out in his drunken stupor. Feeling refreshed, he walked out, a towel around his waist, and he froze. The datapad was blinking, he closed his eyes. Was this yet another dream? Please gods, any gods, don’t let it be a dream he thought. He couldn’t handle it. He knew, just knew at his core if this was another dream he wouldn’t come out of it.

Opening his eyes slowly, he let out a ragged sigh. There it was blinking. Slowly, ever so slowly he picked up the datapad, a holy relic, and activated the screen. There, against a black backdrop, were azure blue letters. REPORT TO RAIDERS SQAUD, then a list of text for coordinates. A smile crept onto his face. It was time, time to go home.


It had taken almost two weeks, hoping from planet to planet before he got to his coordinates. He had barely made the departure date. After taking several air taxis and running, lots of running. He arrived at a small obscure spaceport. There he saw the shuttle that was to take him home, CHXI - 17236. There were others there too, alot he didn’t know, in fact not a single face he could recognize. He went through the boarding process, gave the man his luggage and got on the shuttle. He took a seat, and this time let sleep take him, he would dream this time of home.


A deep fear took hold of Anival as his boot was about to disembark the shuttle onto the durasteel floor of the hangar. What if everyone he knew was dead? Then a bigger fear. What if they werent? What if they saw him and pitied the poor wretch he had become. With a deep breath, he stepped onto the bay. The rest of the occupants exited, he was wondering where to go when a loud “sir” caught his attention. Anival turned to look at who was making so much ruckus and again, the fear swirled within. There was Joamer, and Havock. He started walking towards the group. Knowing they would not only have answers for where to report, but also. He wanted to see the two with his own eyes, and hear their voices. He arrived just as the other man introduced “shiny collars” and hovered behind them, afraid to speak, and yearning to speak. Again, he could fear the tears forming, it had been such a long lonely 14 years, and finally, he was home.

OOC:

Sorry not quite the 1k but close? Getting to the swing of things and I promise it will improve with stuff to focus on!

Tonto sighed inwardly. He could have waited. If he had given the damn PA system another fifteen seconds it would have called the officers away and he would not have made such a fool of himself. As always, impatience and excitement had led him to try to find answers and move toward the solution as quickly as possible when sometimes the slower, more cautioned approach was the better answer.

Ah well, he thought. Even if he had just made a complete damn fool of himself, he at least had shown the proper respect. He had not been ordered to do otherwise. He had not been ordered to do anything, in fact, besides arrive on this ship.

How did these spec ops teams function if everything was veiled in secrecy including their orders?

Lost in thought about the utter failure of his probably unreported arrival aboard this vessel, Tonto returned to reality out from his internal spiral of shame to notice the officers turning to leave. His arm began to rise to snap off another salute.

SMACK

Heliwers hand swiftly wrapped the back of his head and he let out an involuntary hiss of air as the sting of freshly slapped skin sent pins and needles shooting down his neck. It was just enough of a slap to make the salute turn into a hasty wipe of his hand across his forehead before returning it to his side.

“I thought academy pups were good at following directions.”

“Like I said, deeply ingrained reactions,” Tonto muttered mostly under his breath. He needed to stop firing back with every comment. He was either good enough to be there or he wasn’t. He had been stuck at the academy for ten years because of his past mistakes. He had done hundreds of hours of simulated training. He had obeyed every rule, courtesy, and regulation for ten years and apparently, all it had earned him was an inability to act appropriately as a member of the squads in the field. It's time to try and regain his footing. “So what do we do now?”

“Find the bar, drink, let them come back with the bad news, then figure out how the feth we are to accomplish whatever fool crackpot job they have for us. Jace?” Tonto internally groaned. The last thing that he wanted to do when he had already managed to fill his stomach by shoving his foot in his mouth was lose his ability to think clearly at a bar with his potential new fireteam members. He supposed it did not really matter where they ended up as long as the group was together and ready. Hopefully, the their next briefing when the two officers returned from their formal briefing would furnish them with whatever high command had determined that the best plan was that involved pulling a bunch of retirees and rejects together to make a squad for whatever this mission would entail.

“Good a plan as any.” Jace nodded. “Let’s get a move on before we attract more attention than we already are.” Tonto heard the slight amusement in Jace’s voice and saw the small smirk and well-deserved side-eye that Jace directed toward Tonto. He highly doubted that this was something he would live down in the future. First impressions were hard to revert. It would take a lot of good fieldwork to get his ledger back to zero.

The group set off through the hangar. The loading and unloading units and other orderlies in the hangar moved swiftly back and forth flowing around the small group as they moved in the direction of one of the enlisted lounges. As they walked down the long corridors Tonto again wondered to himself how he had ended up here. He was beginning to think that it was not because of his past experience with the Wildcard Platoon squads ten years ago. It likely was not because of his experience working in the armory as there were armorers everywhere in the fleet. They had just passed a refresher when Tonto felt a slight buzz as his C1 personal comm notified him that he had a data pad message.

“Need the refresher. I will catch back up to you in a moment.” Tonto said to the Sergeants as he began to turn into the refresher they were passing.

“Don’t get lost in the wastes and go pissing all over yourself with excitement if you see an officer in there.”

Finally figuring out how to react appropriately, Tonto just turned and entered the refresher without saying a word.

He entered the refresher and saw that he had a message from Drex:

Subject: Found the Command

Contents:

Where did you wander off to? I found the Marine command on-board and they were expecting me. Had my name on the roster and everything. They said I was the only new trooper listed as a transfer though. Come find us on deck three!

Tonto took only a moment to think. He was not on the roster for the ground forces that were typically assigned to this ship. He had somehow managed to run into another contingent of soldiers who also had no idea why or where they were supposed to be. He did not know if this was the right place for him to be, but he also now knew he was not supposed to report to the other ground command. He would continue to stay with the other RAIDERS until someone told him otherwise.

He hesitated for a moment with the message open on his data pad then clicked it off without responding. Drex would wonder where he went, but he could not divulge information as his slapped head kept reminding him. Other people were not supposed to know that they were here or where they were going.

He hurried back out of the refresher and down the last few feet of the corridor to the entrance of the enlisted lounge.

Large industrial lights hung from the ceiling and were covered with different sponsored coverings that lowered the level of light emitting from each one. The sponsored coverings said different things about the types of alcohol available at the bar.

“Antakarian Ale: Cure your ALEments!”

“Imperial Bourbon: when it's hot, grab a brrrrrrbon!”

“Dragonberry Rum: Time flies when you’re having rum.”

There were green felted sabacc tables and a few pazaak tables set out around the bar, but most of the floor space was taken up by a dancefloor and dining tables. The dining tables were wood top epoxy finished with bright chrome wraps around the sides. The chairs looked like bolted-in barstools with red plastic tops. Jace and Anival were sitting at one of the tables toward the back in a darker corner of the bar.

So what, do the professionals always just choose the shadowy corners? I have a lot to learn about this stuff.

Tonto went and sat at the table. He looked around for Heliwer when he sat and saw him at the bar. Heliwer must have watched him walk in because when he made eye contact with Tonto, he waved and gave him a thumbs-up. Hoping that this was friendly cajoling that he had made it back from the bathroom all by himself, Tonto threw up a sardonic thumbs up back to Heliwer. He turned back and listened as Anival and Jace were discussing their arrival to the Dead Gun which he had just learned was the name of the star destroyer they were on.

"Good. . ." The officer checked the timecode on his datapad, "Afternoon. My name is Agent Rhys Ulgo with Naval Intelligience. I've been serving with the Imperial Navy for ten years and my current position is the equivalent of a Naval Commander. I began my career as a bridge officer I have a specialization in naval fleet analytics."

    Raigen sighed. He recognized the pattern. Any time an officer unfamiliar with those they are briefing begins a brief they usually begin with an introduction and short personal history. It was exhausting.

    Agent Ulgo scanned the room and continued. "I'll get to the chase. You're wondering why you were called out of hibernation to deep space." Ulgo pointed to his datapad and the holoscreen fluttered to life with a galaxy map. A small section of the 'northwestern' portion of the unknown regions was highlighted in red.

    "This. . .is the First Order, or was approximately ten years ago. The red section is the area we believe they control. They're a military junta created by some of the Empire's more radical officers following the battle of Endor. Unlike many Imperial Remnants, they didn't stick around to fight the growing New Republic or to carve out sections of the known galaxy for themselves. After the battle of Endor they simply dissapeared. They showed up again
recently in rumors from spacers on the northern edge of our territory approximately ten years ago. . .This is them today." He reached down to his data pad and the highlighted area grew tenfold.

    "The first order is unlike any other remnant we have encounted. They are highly secretive, they operate in the unknown regions, and we've encountered exactly zero defected members of their organization. Recent attempts to infiltrate their systems have been unsuccessful. To date, we have lost seven teams attempting to set up field offices on their controlled planets.

    We know that their technology far outpaces our own and the New Republics. They have new star destroyers, new starfighters, and even their stormtroopers utilize advanced armor and weaponry.

    What we don't know is their numbers. To date, we cannot pinpoint a capital planet or large fleet concentration through agents posing as traders. Last week, however, we received intelligience suggesting that they are buying up bulk metal and spacecraft parts and shipping it here, to a plant named Yandl. Our astronomists tell us that there are no habitable planets in this system. Our analysts believe this to be the location of one of the First Order's shipyards, possibly their largest."

    The agent drank from a glass on the pedestal before continuing. The holoscreen switched to a model of a sleek, new, TIE spacecraft. Raigen's eyes widened as he admired the streamlined pylons and solar panels. 'Fast' was all that came to mind.

    "Our mission is to infiltrate the shipyard and secure scans and photographs so that our analysts back here can get a better estimate of what their industrial machine is able to output."

    "Ensign Zeedrick along with some other engineers in the recent Officer Candidacy School came up with this design in the last class as part of a hypothetical project. Our Research and Development team was able to put together a model. Codename "Runner," this ship is light and fast. Unfortunately, we were unable to outfit the ship with long range communications or hyperdrive, but we have devised an alternative plan, albeit, on short notice.

    We want you to go undercover as salvagers to sell this ship to the First Order." He thumbed his datapad and pulled up a hologram of a Correllian DP-20 gunship. "This is the Ferocious, but don't let her name fool you. She's been mothballed in our reserve fleet for a decade and no longer has weaponry, life support, or flight control. Her engines are still functioning and we believe the first order will be interested in salvaging her for spare parts and metal. Inside Ferocious, we will conceal the payload, codename Runner, and a single pilot. Upon deliver to Yandl, that pilot will exit the Ferocious, take photographs and scans of the shipyard while avoiding destruction or capture by their security, then escape and rendezvous in deep space with the rest of the team."

    Raigen scoffed. . .loudly. "Sounds like a suicide mission. What idiot are you going to get to fly that sortie?" He looked to Cayden and the woman he entered with for agreement.

    The agent frowned and continued, "Runner is currently more than capable of outrunning the First Orders ships in subspace, however, to date we have not been able to successfully fly her due to limits in pilot capability. To be frank, Runner accelerates so fast that our pilots cannot withstand the gravitational forces."

    Raigen's mouth closed upon hearing this, suspecting what came next.

"That's right, Mr. Tei-Yehn," Agent Ulgo said victoriously, "Among other biological systems that were upgraded as a result of the trauma you recieved from your accident, we installed a cardiovascular pump beneath that duramesh skin suit you're wearing. In addition to being a built in G-suit, it has the capability of pressurizing your blood beyond normal human capacities. We believe this will allow you to successfully pilot the Runner." Raigen slumped in his seat, arms crossed, realizing that not only did he get the shit assignment of the mission, he was likely the only person capable of doing it and therefore could not refuse. "And your very public personal history as both an enemy of the Republic and as a salvager makes you an ideal point man and natural cover for this mission. We had planned to provide you with a craft for hauling the Ferocious, but I expect you've come equipped for that looking at that massive monstrosity in the docking bay."

    "Mr. Tavers, Mr. Tei-Yehn will need a capable pilot to retrieve him and the Runner. Your record speaks for itself, and I suspect more than just your Imperial loyalties compell you to seeing First Order space first hand."

    Agent Ulgo looked toward Havok and Joamer. "And for the RAIDERS in the room. Your job is to ensure that the databox in the Runner makes it safely into our hands. Should anything happen to Mr. Tei-Yehn or the Runner, you and your team are to retrieve the databox and return it at whatever cost. I cannot stress how many good field agents we have lost in First Order territory. Our presence there is nonexistent. We needed a team that was removed enough from the Vast Empire to be able to blend in naturally but also capable of seeing this mission through at all costs."

  "Should you accept, you will speak to no one else of this mission and report directly to me aboard the Dead Gun upon completion. This is a black operation ladies and gentleman. That means no one is coming to get you should you fail. Of course, you're all retired and no one can force you to accept. But for operational security, should you decline, you will be sequestered aboard the Dead Gun until it's completion. . .Any questions? . . .and yes, Mr. Tei-Yehn. This job comes with ample monetary renumeration up front. You need not worry about payment or operating costs."

“Tavers won’t be flying that brick you call a freighter though.” Joamer said as he stood up and nodded to his old friend. “He can have second seat but I’ll fly her, let’s quickly get everyone onboard and get out of here. Far too many eyes on this thing as it is. Grab what you need, let’s have wheels up in forty-five minutes.”

    Fifteen years ago, even in uniform and aboard the fleet flag ship, Raigen would have decked him for that comment. Not the brick part, Raigen took that as a compliment. Last Resort was chosen for her size and commonality among the entire galaxy. Raigen often commented that he had her stripped to the bulkheads, but that was a lie. The Last Resort had very little in the way of original parts and he'd used the husk of the ship mostly as a blueprint to keep the original shape. Every bit of metal had been cut out with plasma torches, the outer shell held in place by temporary scaffolding, and Raigen had replaced eve the interior bulkheads with carbon weave synthfibers. Expensive and time consuming to form and shape, the carbon synthetic framework lightened the ship by over half. Raigen then began replacing the original ship systems with specially sourced equipments, all the highest possible quality he could physically fit inside the hull. Then can the outer framework. The exterior skin would have to remain metal, pressure and frictioned welded at the seams to provide an adequate hermetic seal where there werent sealed access hatches and to make the ship appear somewhat stock from the outside. By all estimates, the Last Resort was just about the most advanced ship money could buy.

    It was the audacity that irked Raigen. The idea that he would help himself to the pilot seat. Raigen smiled after turning away. Along with the extensive slave circuitry, Raigen had programmed the ship systems himself, linked them to his own biometrics, and installed several failsafe to prevent what had amounted to five years of hard labor to build from being hijacked by anyone who thought they could get one over on him. Even the most skilled slicer would find the Last Resort a brick wall. . .as both the flight control panels and programming language itself was written in Tusken, and, since the sand people did not actually have a written language, only Raigen would recognize the phonetic version he used to code the ship. In short. . .someone trying to steal the Last Resort was going to have a very rotten day without physically towing it away.

    'Forty five minutes?' Raigen thought, 'This guy wouldn't last a week in the sand hole that raised me. Raigen had learned early on in life that you only truly owned what you carried on you. Everything else could and would, eventually, be left behind when shit hit the fan. Raigen stopped next to a GNK droid passing in the hallway and stopped it with his hand. He produced his small datapad, pulled the memory chip from its slot and left the pad atop the droid's chassis before turning toward the hanger. Raigen bit into the small memory chip, snapping it in half, swallowing both pieces. He then activated his comlink, "Kaythree. Ready us for launch. And turn off the gas jets. We'll have company."

“Amacuse won’t be flying that brick you call a freighter though.” Joamer said as he stood up and nodded to his old friend. “He can have second seat but I’ll fly her, let’s quickly get everyone onboard and get out of here. Far too many eyes on this thing as it is. Grab what you need, let’s have wheels up in forty-five minutes.”

'Well… I guess that makes my job easy… also means we can bring an extra two TIEs in case things go sideways, instead of just the one…" Cayden thought to himself as he gave Joa a conciliatory head nod. He looked at Ari next to him before motioning her to follow him as he left the briefing. The pair exited the briefing room and began making their way to the hangar deck. "Thoughts Ari?"

"I think the mission is poorly crafted, honestly. We run the risk of inciting the First Order further by engaging in such subterfuge. We would be better off doing more covert insertions into their space, posing as civilians wanting to live under an ordered regime," she replied as she kept pace with him, pulling out her datapad.

"I mean… it's not much different a plan than what we were going to do originally, honestly… except now, we won't really have any support fighters to assist, should things go sideways… and knowing the reputations of some of the people on this mission, it most likely will," he said as he stepped into a turbolift. He waited a second for her to get in before keying the main hangar deck.

"We could see about attaching our Interceptors to the Gozanti as support… can't do anymore than that, due to the design of the Runner… though, it might be a bit odd for a Gozanti with a pair of Interceptors to be towing an old DP-20 to the First Order to sell as salvage…" she replied quietly, tapping at her datapad.

"Unless we paint the Interceptors. Make them not look like they would be in Imperial service… same with the Gozanti, honestly. Hmm… I'm leaning towards red colors for the Interceptors. And maybe a creature of some kind for an added touch of ferocity…" he mused out loud, glancing at her datapad.

"We have under forty-five minutes, Cay. At best, we can do a rush paint job on the TIEs. Should do two colors then… red and a dark yellow. Something that sticks out to show that we have nothing to hide, and that maybe… just maybe, the TIEs are more for decoration than serviceability…" she said with a slight smile, showing him his datapad and the basic two-color paint design she had in mind.

"Mmm… you're right. Two colors would be best. You get some of the engineers to help with that, and I'll get the Gozanti prepped for departure. If we time it right, we should meet the deadline. If not, then… well, you and I will just have to fly the Interceptors to catch up with the transport at the rendezvous," Cay said with a smirk, giving her a slight nudge. The doors slid open and he watched as Ari stepped out onto the catwalk for the TIEs. "Be quick, Ari… as much fun as it would be to chase after the Gozanti, I'd rather not hear about it from Joa."

She gave a light chuckle and held out her arms from her sides a bit, grinning. "Me? Be late? When have I ever been late for anything?"

He was about to retort when the lift doors slid closed and continued going down. He chuckled to himself and smiled as he rode it the rest of the way down. "She's not wrong…" he said to himself as the doors opened and he stepped out into the hangar. He looked around briefly before he spotted what he would consider to be a bit of a junker of a ship sitting at the far end of the hangar. He tried to see if there were any other Gozantis parked inside, but that one appeared to be the only one that the NI Officer would classify as a 'massive monstrosity'. "Oh boy… I just hope that pile of scrap can actually perform under pressure…" Quickly, he dashed and made his way to the ship, hoping to be able to get it in some semblance of space worthiness before the troopers arrive.

As Cayden was heading to the Last Resort, Arianna was flagging down a pair of engineers she noticed were doing maintenance on one of the TIEs nearby. "Hey, crewmen! I'm pulling you off your current assignment for a time-sensitive project!" she called out as she approached them.

The two engineers stood up and looked at her. One of the waved her off and went back to work as the other one pulled out a rag and began wiping off his hands as he approached her. "Sorry miss, but we've got a schedule to keep. The Chief Hangar Master is very strict about adhering to the maintenance schedule."

She get closer and stopped about two meters away from him, frowning slightly. "Look… Senior Crewman. I have a priority mission that departs in forty minutes, and I have a pair of Interceptors that need a new paint job so that they don't look like actual Imperial fighters. Design is very simple, only two colors. The three of us can easily knock it out with minimal disruption with the maintenance schedule," she said as she stared at him.

The younger Senior Crewman was about to answer when the older and much more surly Petty Officer stood up and walked over. "Listen lady, everyone's got a priority mission to get ready for. We can't and we aren't going to break our schedule just for a bunch of space yuppies to go and ruin perfectly good fighters. You can submit your request with the Hangar Master, or you can go without your requested work."

Ari stared at the older Petty Officer, spared the younger Senior Crewman a glance before she looked back at the older engineer, smirking. "Very well, I suppose I shall have to inform Agent Ulgo that a pair of engineers are standing in the way of this mission succeeding…"

The Petty Officers eyes widened very slightly, but it was the Senior Crewman who spoke. "Agent Ulgo..? As in… Naval Intelligence Operative, Agent Ulgo?"

"The very same," Ari said with a smile, nodding.

The pair spared a glance before the Petty Officer spoke. "What needs to be done exactly, miss…?"

"Warrant Officer. Warrant Officer First Class Arianna Blaire. And that pair of Interceptors both need a new paint job so that they look like they were salvaged and painted in order to not be confused with standard Imperial Interceptors," she replied with a smile as she held out her datapad for them to look over. "We have… less than forty minutes to get them done. The more rushed the paint job looks, the better."

OOC:

WC: 1166

Split up the pair to get more work done in a shorter time frame. Also gonna bring the pair of Interceptors they came in on... y'know, in case the First Order decides to shoot. Plan for success... prepare for disaster.

“I am Raiders Though” Anival said without thinking. “I am. Joamer?” Anival said, feeling like a small child getting a parents validation in an “I told you so manner” The slight embarrassment he felt at the moment changed his mood tremendously. 

Anival watched the remaining exchange with a slight smile. So this mans name was Heliwer. Or was It Garrarth.  “Lets get a move on before we attract more attention than we already are” Anival nodded, and they moved as a group towards the lounge. Heliwer moved towards the bar. Anival scanned the area looking for a table. “Over there” Anival said pointing with his head to a table in a quiet corner. 

Once Heliwer was back to the table, he offered drinks. Anival took his and knocked it back. Instantly the thick oily drink coated his tongue. He wanted to be offended but didn’t know the reason behind why this specific drink. Maybe he was overthinking it, either way he wouldn’t admit it, but he had spotted a pair walking by with a bubbling red and purple drink that smelled of some sort of berry that he was wanting to try so very badly. He sighed, he couldn’t bring himself to order one in front of these guys, at least not yet. Slowly, with the alcohol flowing and the atmosphere he started to get into the rhythm of being just another trooper. Throughout the night he kept slapping Tonto on the shoulder blade with the jokes, almost as if asking “did ya get it?” he was liking the guy, well as much as someone could like a stranger. He reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t figure out who. Eventually, he felt comfortable enough to share a story.

“It was my first mission being ASL, and well, during those times I was still a little bit human supremacist-y” He started, feeling a tab bit nostalgic. Zeshuan the Trandoshan, and Grahim the Gungan popping in his mind. Even now, after all this time he wondered how a Gungan had passed basic training, let alone become a stormtrooper.  He continued to tell his story about the mission they had undergone and how the team had split up, getting more and more into the tale of how his half of the squad had finally cut off the escaping enemy. “So then I activate the adhesive grenade, and go to throw it, but I hear a “trooper stop” and so I do. You know, reflexes” a quick stop to wet his lips from the cup in his hand “And the damn thing goes off in my hand.” 

“So did he get away?” someone asked

“No, that’s the best part, and If I do say so where my genius lays. The adhesive foam had made a wall out of us! The exit was blocked!” the group roared laughing, the image of a wall of stormtroopers stuck in adhesive foam preventing an enemies escape.

“Well, good morning sleeping beauty.” Came Heliwers voice. Anival turned to see and sure enough Tonto was getting up.

“Izzat Hoamer and Javock.”  Tonto asked no one in particular, his muddled voice clearly showing the effects of drink.

“Hey, you’re supposed to get drunk enough to do something stupid, not drunk enough to be stupid,” came Joamers voice as he walked towards the group. Everyone started to get up at Joamers words and started putting the knives into the table.  Anival rolled his in his hand before finishing the last of the jawa juice and driving his knife into the table. His letter wasn’t anything fancy. In fact, it had been the same for many many years. It was a short and simple farewell to his squamates. He hadn’t changed it as it didn’t specify anyone, it read Simply “For the glory of the empire”

After boarding the Gozanti class freighter the first thing Anival did was make a beeline for the refresher. He had several drinks to empty, and teeth to brush. The taste of fermented bantha hide was not something he enjoyed, and his was already hatching a plan to get back at Heliwer. After splashing some water on his face, he made his way to the crew quarters. Picking a quick bunk he threw his bag on a bed, claiming it by virtue of his stuff being there first. A vibration ran through the hull of the ship, engine getting ready, warming up. Wow they were not wasting any time, they were already prepping to leave. Had he taken a lot of time in the bathroom, he didn’t think so.

Anival wandered around the ship, and found the medbay, he found Tonto in there. A look of disappointment clear as day on his face.

“You know, you are going to have to learn to keep your emotions off your face. A wise man once told me, only two things belong on your face. My knees when you disobey, and honeys when you’re having a good day”

Tonto looked at him, and Anival chuckled slightly. “Lets go find the others so we can get to our take off positions.”

Cayden was the first to arrive. Raigen watched from the cockpit security viewscreen as the Warrant Officer struggled with docking ring, searching for some kind of activation method before discovering the dataport. Cayden was about to plug in his data pad when the docking ring doors whooshed open. Raigen nodded to Tavers. "Welcome to the Last Resort. Let's get the tour over with so you can get settled in. The others took the turbolift to the lower levels so I can only assume they wanted to check out the barracks or the officer's club."

Raigen, not being a man of many words, showed Cayden through the ship with about as much enthusiasm as a low level supervisor would orienting a new employee. "This is the top deck, cockpit is foreward. To the rear are maintenance hatches for the dorsal laser turrets and crawlspaces for sunlight engines. Navicomputer is port side, the starboard side is all droid slave circuitry for the ship. R3-K3 is the astromech and copilot but he can pilot the ship if need be. There's no turbolifts, took em out for weight. There's a ladder for'd near the cockpit and aft. That room there is my quarters." Raigen walked foreward to the cockpit. "These screens control the guns, all digital, no gunners seats. The second chair is for passengers, usually, not much function there. Everything can be controlled from the pilots seat manually but you'll find that most of the ship is automated. A lot like driving an air speeder, really."

Raigen looked back at Cayden as he eyed the dark grey bulkhead materials. "It's all carbon. I replaced the interior design and material to maximize speed and minimize weight."

"How much did that cost you?"

"If I paid for the material. Few million." Raigen said nonchalantly as he saw Cayden's eyes widen. "I was able to get my hands on some industrial carbon forming machinery from a fence on Nal Hutta at a discount. Turns out you can get shit cheap when pirates don't know what it is they are stealing." Even for onderonian royalty, the sight of an entirely carbon ship was out of the ordinary. Usually reserved for the cockpits of podracers and luxery speeders, carbon mesh was one of the lightest, most durable materials in the galaxy.

Raigen led Cayden down to the second level. "Refresher is here. Only one we have. Vents directly out the hull so don't use it in port, yeah. Crew quarters are just after, hyperdrive beyond that but I have it sealed off. She's brand new, no need to go peaking. Point seven five, I got tired of the unreliability of the faster models. These corridors here lead to the 'wings' and maintenace hatches for the thrusters. There's docking rings there for small craft, which we wont have, and we can board the dp20 from there. There's a couple of zero g flight suits in that locker so. . .if we get spaced it'll be a race to them I suppose."

Raigen pointed to the only ladder on this deck, "Maintenace hatches for the landing gear and cargo are below. Oh, and theres a small med bay aft of quarters before you reach the hyperdrive compartment, port side. Any questions?"

“Mm… I suppose you answered my question regarding the docking rings… but we are going to have two Interceptors with us. Though, they will now be playing the role of active escort flying alongside the Last Resort,” Cayden said as he glanced around, stopping on Raigen. “It’s a perfectly good vessel. I have always loved the Gozanti-class. But if the copilot seat is automated… and Joamer is going to be pilot… sounds like my place is better suited as one of the two Interceptor escort fighters.”

Cayden clasped his hands together as he took a few steps toward the docking ramp, turning back to the younger gentleman and smiled lightly. “Besides… I’m much more comfortable in the cockpit of an Interceptor than playing delivery boy. The fighters are being repainted and set to look like they were salvaged and repurposed as private escort fighters, that way they don’t appear to be fully functional and potentially frighten away the First Order, or worse… provoke them. The troopers will be here soon. Arianna and myself will be flying escort. Good luck.”

"You couldn't pick something a little less conspicuous than an Interceptor. Cloakshape, mynock, a headhunter? Shit even a second freighter?" Raigen said as he watched Cayden depart. 'Shit. . .stuck babysitting troopers.' He thought as he caught a glipse of Cayden's smile as the other pilot gave him a relaxed two-finger salute before he walked back down the tube to the Destroyer before beelining to the turbolift.