Chapter 3

T3 lit the targeting bracket around the X-Wing in front of Mekita’s lasers. She flicked her settings so each press of the trigger would fire two of the four cannons mounted on her X-Wing. Her firepower was halved this way, but it drastically increased her rate of fire. Red streaks shot out at the fighter in front of her. She watched as the ship’s shields glowed bright blue, absorbing her shots. Before she could fire off another shot the X-Wing waggled the S-foils that gave the snubfighter it’s distinctive shape and then went into a noise dive. “Sithspit!” Mekita shoved her throttle down to follow the ship’s descent. “T3, who is that?” The member’s of Problem Squadron had all been given astromech droids earlier that day. They had been given the choice of renaming the droids, but Mekita had let the flat grey droid keep its factory designation. A large red “5” appeared on her display right over the engines of the ship as it started to reverse it’s descent, coming up in a tight climb.

Things were not going well for her. The number five represented Lieutenant Staamas. In her opinion she was now dog fighting with one of the only two pilots in the squadron she couldn’t take. All three flights were pitted against each other and it seemed to her she was given the worst pilots. As soon as they had lifted off, Cooper had broke formation. Despite her commands for him to regroup, the Carthain had not listened. She had lit up his engines with her cannons before any member of Three Flight had even reached the combat area. By that point Cooper was already out of combat. Dara Lin’Say had listened to her directions, but the Twi’lek just wasn’t the best pilot. Two of the pilots in One flight had picked her off. She wasn’t sure what had happened to Madry, but since he no longer appeared on her radar she could only assume the worst. Now she was on Zwick’s tail and he had the nerve to be taunting her. She pulled back her throttle, trying to mimic Staamas’ climb when her ship started rattling. Zwick was pulling away from her; his loop would eventually put him back behind her ship. She hazarded another glance at her screens. “T3! I need that stabilizer fixed before he vapes us!” The little droid replied with a whistle.

Slamming the throttle again she came out of her loop. Shields were back, but had only recharged to five percent, barely enough to stop a handheld blaster. Shifting power between her engines she cut the power to the right side and pushed the left to full thrust. Her ship spun around to face Zwick’s as it came out of the loop. She opened fire, hoping a wall of laser fire would stop him from charging her head on. His shields opaqued and quickly the ship rolled off to the starboard side. Mekita smiled. Finally something had gone right for her. T3 suddenly begin screaming wildly, flashing her warning lights. D’Amico’s eyes grew wide as she saw the proton torpedo streaking toward her cockpit. She tried fighting the sluggish controls, rolling her ship so the torpedo wouldn’t rip into it. The star field rolled outside the window and she watched her radar, as the torpedo was about to pass her. She watched it streaking towards her, the weapon sailing under the long nose of her craft. Mekita smiled, having dodged the torpedo. Then the weapon exploded as it reached her belly. As it ripped through her ship she cursed herself for forgetting that torpedoes carried proximity detectors. Her cockpit shook her violently before she died.

Mekita leaned back in her chair as her cockpit windows turned white and the controls powered down. The hatch to the simulator opened slowly as Mekita began unstrapping her seatbelts. The cold air rushed in and instantly chilled the sweat covering her. She crawled out of the simulator, her body sore. The top dome of T3 spun around to face her. The droid whistled at her from inside the simulator’s astromech socket. She let out a small sigh, “I know you tried to warn me. We’ll get him next time.” The droid offered an enthusiastic beep as Mekita dropped to the floor. She placed her helmet next to the machine and took a moment to stretch out. T3 undocked itself and rolled to her feet. The droid had no coloring to it at all. The entire body was a flat grey color. Using a towel she wiped off the now cold sweat and tossed the cloth over her helmet. The droid chirped at her as she began wrapping her hair back into a tight bun on the back of her head. The sound of footsteps behind her caused her to turn around.

Rian and Zwick walked towards her laughing at something, probably at her, she though. At least Ikner’s hair was plastered to his head, showing he had worked as hard as she did. Zwick’s hair usually looked slicked down with water, so it was hard to tell if he had fared the same. As they neared Mekita snapped to attention and saluted. Both men seemed a little startled by the formality but returned the salute. Zwick was the first to speak. “Nice flying out there. You almost had me.”

Mekita bit back a reply. Staamas had been showboating in front of her and now he had the nerve to lie. She had lit up his shields, but that was the full extent of her part of the exchange. Rian looked around with a grin. “It seems the rest of the Squad has deserted us. I would be willing to bet that we can find them all at the Loading Zone.”

Zwick laughed. “Mutiny already? I had expected it to at least be a couple of days before that happened.” Mekita looked appalled at the two men’s banter. The Rebellion’s lack of discipline was such a drastic change from the Imperial Academy that she still wasn’t used to it.

Rian placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come on Mekita. You got your first glimpse of how the Squad flies. Now lets see how they unwind.”

Zwick placed a hand on her opposite shoulder as they began leading her out of the simulator room where a blue astromech was waiting by the door. “You don’t happen to play Sabacc do you?”

Skeng had been the first casualty of the simulator fight. A fact Chuta, his astromech droid repeatedly told him before he opened the hatch to his simulator. For some reason, Skeng never liked droids. And, strangely enough, they had never liked him. When he had piloted ships, they were normally large enough to have their own navicomputer, saving him the hassle of dealing with astromechs. Now he had to not only deal with the little black and white droid assigned to him and but Mekita D’Amico also. His Flight Leader had been the one who had shot him down. He told himself, had he actually expected the attack, he could have dodged it. Regardless though, the woman was trouble. Rumor had it that she was an ex-Imperial pilot. The type of people he grew up trying to stay away from. He and his old partner, Kiev, had been their own bosses. No one told them what to do, they had made their living completely on their own. Of course Kiev used to slice his way into ships, which Skeng would then pilot away. It was theft, but until they were finally arrested the pay had been very good. This Mekita had only been in charge of him for a mere few minutes and already she was trying to make him miserable.

He dropped down to the floor and quickly shed his gloves, life support gear, and helmet. Chuta detached itself from the simulator and warbled at him. While he couldn’t understand the droid, he assumed it was making fun of him. He gave it a smile, thinking the name fit the droid perfectly. Earlier when he found out the squadron’s astromechs were ready for new designations he changed his droid’s name to Chuta, a common vulgarity shared by a few languages. The Carthain spent the next five minutes convincing Chuta that he needed a hydrospanner from the supply closet. Finally the little droid complied and rolled inside. Skeng leaped away from his gear and dashed across the room. He slid the last four feet and slammed his palm against the door’s controls. Chuta’s domed head spun around and let out a squeal as the door shut. Skeng tapped a few buttons and locked the door, the constant barrage of shrieks and whistles aimed at him only causing him to laugh.

Carson Dire was unstrapping his helmet when he looked over to Skeng. The thin man was leaning against the supply closet’s door, where a loud “THUD” was coming from every few seconds. Dire glanced back to his completely black astromech and then over to Cooper. “Well, at least I wasn’t the first shot down.”

Skeng forced himself to stop laughing at Chuta’s escape attempts and looked up to Dire. “Yeah, well I bet your flight leader didn’t shoot you down.”

“No, I can’t say that he did. I was broadsided. By the way, my name is Carson, you’re Skeng right?”

“Call me Cooper. Everyone else does.“

“Alright Cooper, I have an important question for you.”

Skeng licked his lips and gave his best “You don’t need to know what’s in the closet” smile. Chuta had stopped ramming the door making his entrapment a little easier to conceal. “Sure Carson. I’m an open book, what would you like to know?”

Dire pulled off his leather gloves and scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Well then, why aren’t we having this conversation at the Loading Zone?”

Thrash jumped to the floor behind the duo and let out a long “Woooo!” Both men looked over to Talos as he rose to his feet. “I heard someone mention the Loading Zone. May I add that sounds like a capital idea.” Latha’s astromech detached from the simulator and beeped enthusiastically. The droid was blue and white and had the bucket shaped head instead of the dome. Thrash looked over and smiled. “Hate wants to go to.” Thrash had been delighted when he found out his droid’s designation was R2-H8 and refused to call it anything but Hate since the initial meeting.

Skeng moved off of the door and smiled brightly. “We should probably leave a holo for the others. After all, we want to be sociable don’t we?”

Dire placed a hand on the dome of his ebon droid. “Shadow here won’t work. I think he’s been programmed to keep an eye on me. He follows everywhere I go.” Shadow let out a trill beep causing Carson to laugh. “Oh yeah. He also has to deny it.”

Thrash tossed his helmet up into the cockpit of the simulator and then sent his gloves on a similar arc. “Hate can record it. Then when the last of them shows up he can come with them.” Hate let out a low mournful whistle. “Don’t worry buddy, I won’t use up all the fun before you get there.”

Cooper leaped in front of Hate and assumed the rigid stance of a commanding officer. His thin features quickly grew icy cold. As he spoke, his voice suddenly gained a detached arrogance that dripped with power. He positioned himself so the droid was filming his left side. Skeng slowly turned his head, sending his gaze over his shoulder and straight into the recorder. “Recruits. Your mission is a dangerous one, but one vital to the existence of the Rebellion. There will be heavy losses, but those lives will not be given up in vain. All of those involved will be remembered through the ages as heroes. So recruit, are you ready for this mission? Good. You are hereby ordered to go directly to the Loading Zone where you will consume mass amounts of alcohol, you will talk with squadron mates, and eat greasy foods that you don’t want to know the origins of. And in the morning, you’ll wake up with hangovers; but that’s a small price to pay for being a hero.” Hate’s recorder light snapped off and the three men fell into laughter.

As they moved out the door, Jacob Atani was waiting for them. Atani was the security trooper assigned to Talos Latha. He looked up as the group started towards them and offered a smile. Thrash returned it and walked past him. “We’re going to the Loading Zone my good man.” Atani fell into step behind Thrash. Skeng walked up beside the trooper and patted him on the back. As he did so, the Carthain slipped the vibroknife from out of the sheath on the back of Jacob’s belt. Cooper quickly sleeved the blade and smiled to Jacob. “Your first shot of whiskey is on me friend.”

“Unfortunately I can’t drink on duty. General Reeves would skin me alive.”

Skeng laughed and adjusted his sleeve, so not even the slightest bulge from the knife was visible. “That’s a shame. I guess I’ll have to drink your share.”

Cooper and Latha had known each other while aboard the Interrogator, so they quickly fell into a comfortable conversation. Jacob was content listening and sipping a hot cup of caf, while Dire had secured his back to the wall. A large glass of Corellian whiskey was glued to his right hand and his eyelids rapidly dropped to half-mast. It wasn’t long before the table the four men had secured quickly began to fill up. Ruade, Soto, both Verlott sisters, and Dara had come into the Loading Zone with an unsure look on their faces. Cooper, who shoved a bottle of lum into their hands and walked them back to the table, quickly greeted them as soon as they walked through the door. The men and women shared a bit about themselves as they talked, Cooper managing to seat himself with an arm around Shiel and Vied. After a few rounds, Talos answered the question, “So what did you do to get arrested?”

Talos stood up, his footing a little uneven after mixing lum and whiskey. He grinned wildly and looked around, causing a few giggles before he started. “OK, I had wound up on Malastare looking for a job. I thought I could work the odds on the races well enough, but I ended up working off some gambling losses for this mean old Dug. So, I had to track down a few people who owed even more money than I did. The very first guy I’ve got to find hangs out in this little dive right? Now as I’m walking in there a couple of stormtroopers are walking out.” To better demonstrate, Talos began backing up. Which was when Najah Tak happened to be walking back. The big Void Spider let his presence be known by slamming his shoulder into Thrash, forcing Talos to stumble forward.

Tak kept walking and glanced over his shoulder. Between laughs he shot back a, “Sorry, didn’t see you there little guy.” Thrash’s eyes were hard to see, his hair dipping down in front of them. The muscles in his jaw grew taught. In the fraction of a second he spun around on his heels and began charging Tak. One of Jacob’s primary duties had been to keep Talos Latha and Najah Tak separated. It was readily known that Najah wanted another piece of Talos, and that Latha was ready to step into a fight with anyone. Jacob though, had let his guard down. During the evening he had become the proverbial fly on the wall, watching the squadron get to know each other. Even his unruly charge was beginning to grow on him. He had become so involved that he didn’t even notice Najah Tak enter through the Southern entrance. As soon as he noticed who bumped into Talos he sat up so fast the chair he had been sitting in shot backwards, but even at that moment he was too late to stop the impending conflict.

Tak was just able to turn around before Thrash collided with him. The impact sent both men to the floor with a loud thud. Tak tried to get his arms up to push the smaller man off of him. The movement proved to be in vain. Thrash grabbed a hold of Najah’s ears and began beating the back of Tak’s head against the bar floor. Atani began closing the distance between the fight and the table. Except for Skeng, the pilots gave a look of intense shock. With the sound of Tak’s head rebounding off the floor like a primitive drum, the Carthain took a sip of his lum and announced to the table, “He does this all the time.” Atani thrust his arms under Talos’ armpits and pulled him off of Tak. The big man was starting to sit up, when Thrash lashed out with a boot. The black leather connected with Tak’s nose and sent him back to the floor in a crimson explosion. Thrash almost growled as he looked over his shoulder at Jacob, but quit fighting and let the man restrain him.

Rian Ikner stood in one of the doorways to the Loading Zone. Zwick and Mekita flanked him and his stance was far from that of the easy going one he usually wore. “Talos! Back to your quarters. We will talk later.” His voice rang out over the rumble of murmured conversations. “The rest of my squadron better make sure Sergeant Tak makes it to sick call, even if they have to carry him.” A few of the pilots groaned, the unconscious body of Najah had nothing to add. “When he comes to, let him know his carcass is going to the brig the next time he comes within twenty feet of Latha.” The room stayed quiet, hanging on Ikner’s every word until he turned and left with those with him. Slowly those at the pilot’s table began to get up. Thrash was wordlessly escorted back to his quarters. Soto was one of the first people up. Gradually the others moved from the table. Carson’s head was leaned back against the wall, even with his eyelids half closed it was easy to see his eyes had gone glassy. Soto grabbed the big man’s arms, Cooper and Ruade each took a leg. On the count of three they hefted up their load. The squadron’s women began filing out the door after them. The other patrons glanced around and the music started out of the speakers once again.

Jace Darkmere and Halla Caster walked casually down the hallway. The conversation had been pleasant, but mostly without content. As they turned the corner they almost ran into a wall of orange. Skeng flashed a smile at Halla and looked towards Jace. “Excuse us Captain. Didn’t see you coming.” Halla returned the grin. In her opinion bright orange was not the Carthain’s best color choice. Jace noticed the two men in front of him were holding someone’s legs. He glanced beyond Ruade and Skeng and inwardly groaned. Seeing his heavy weapons sergeant being carried through the hallways was not a good thing. Tak had a river of blood flowing from his nose, over his lips, and down his chin.

“Before you gentlemen leave, would you like to tell me exactly what is going on here?”

“Heavy ordinance being delivered to sickbay.” The other pilots broke into laughter until Jace’s gaze grew cold. “Captain Ikner wanted us to drop him off at sickbay. So…we’re dropping him off at sickbay.”

Not getting all the answers he had wanted Jace sighed. This was not how he had wanted to impress Sabina. “Proceed with orders then gentlemen. I’ll get the full story from your commander.” The two moved aside so the pilots could continue down the hall with their load. Jace offered his best apologetic smile to Sabina, but was sure the evening was already a disaster. In the distance he could hear Skeng whistling.

The city of Cha’ses sparkled in the night like a green emerald. The largest city on Volmar was surprisingly miles from the nearest ocean. When the Volmi people had still lived in tribes, the area that would one day become Cha’ses housed meetings between the different tribe’s elders. Four times a year elders from each tribe would go to the meeting place. Treaties were worked out, wars ended, and news from around the world was passed on. Slowly as the elders began bringing others to these multi-tribal chats, it became a haven for trade. The meetings took on the air of a festival. Vendors and traders would begin preparing for the chance to sample foreign wares and sell their own, months in advance. From these fairgrounds the city emerged. Because of the peace and prosperity the meeting of elders had brought, the city was named Cha’ses. Roughly translated into basic, the name means “many springs.” While that much of the city’s history is known, no one knew who started its most distinctive feature. Cha’ses appeared to be a floating island. Every space not being filled by buildings or pathways had been dug out and filled with water. Smaller buildings were even built hovering above the water, perched like a bird on support beams. The lakes, streams, and rivers were all artificial; few were deeper then fifteen feet. As the city grew, the tradition grew with it. Buildings’ aesthetics were planned by what kind of reflection it would cast in the water surrounding it. Numerous roads and footpaths were spun over the water like a spider’s web. Fountains sprang up from some small ponds and colored lights made hues nature on Volmar had never seen. The whole process made the Volmi feel as if they were not crowded by the confines of the city. At night, many of the buildings purposely left on certain lights, or had lights specifically to shine into the waters threading the city.

As Sergeant Naslund led his men down the alley, he took the time to appreciate none of the city’s beauty. Behind him was the steady hum of his squad’s land speeder. The vehicle was Imperial grey, long and boxy. An E-Web was mounted in a turret over the pilot’s compartment. The only window was a thin transparisteel band that wrapped around the front of the cruiser. It’s back ended in two large doors that led to the prisoner compartment. Even now one of his men was standing in front of those doors incase there was trouble. The area of town was notorious for it’s gambling, liquor, and other nefarious pursuits. Naslund had been ordered to come back with fifteen slimies for Sheerk’s work project. This alley was one of his favorite pick up spots for drunken Volmi; his men had even taken to calling it “Volunteer’s Row”. The alley stretched like an “S” between numerous different businesses, most of them running Sabbac games or other diversions in back rooms once the sun went down. The buildings forming the alley all were of the stilted variety, so they stood a good ten feet off of the water. The alley sloped down to almost water level, requiring the use of stairs or ladders to get into the establishment’s back doors. Water hemmed in both sides of the path and during the rainy season even put it an inch or two underwater.

Just out of the street’s light a figure groaned. The men behind him pointed their blasters at the shadows as they moved. More sounds drifted from the darkness. From the groans and splatter sounds, someone was getting very sick. Naslund smiled, they had found their first volunteer. He trained his blaster on the form and waved one of the two men behind him forward. Naslund watched as Swenson holstered his blaster. Seconds later he held a glow rod in his left hand and a stun baton in his right. The light cut through the shadows and illuminated a Volmi male on his hands and knees. The man looked up as Swanson was closing in with the baton, blue sparks curling around it. Naslund heard the blaster fire ring out through the air, but the laser had already burned through his back before he could do anything. He tried to scream, but found his mouth filled with his own blood. As he fell to the ferrocrete he could see Swenson curled into the fetal position and holding his stomach. It was getting harder to breath with every second and he had lost all feeling below the waist. Sergeant Naslund closed his eyes and silently hoped that it would all end soon.

Cron Sar Teas dove into the water next to the ferrocrete path. The waters wrapped around him like a mother’s arms for a moment before he had to surface. He let the moment’s events wash over him. He had never killed before. Pulling the trigger had been easy. In fact he had pulled it three times. The laser bolts melting plasteel armor and eating the man’s stomach. He had pretended to be sick by pouring out a can of nerf stew onto the ferrocrete; now his stomach really wanted to empty itself. He quickly remembered his mission was far from over and he kicked hard with his legs, propelling him to the surface. As he came up, he glanced around. His comrades still floated quietly holding heavy blasters. Someone had left the safety of the water long enough to turn off the fallen trooper’s flashlight. His hand moved across the ground until it came upon the cold metal of his hold out blaster’s handle. The five of them bobbed in the water, darkness concealing the alley. The three dead men made no noise, but inside one of their helmets a comlink was screaming. Within the carrier, troops were very close to loosing their composure. Everyone had heard the laser fire and now there was nothing but silence. The lack of response only made the situation tenser for the other stormtroopers. The Volmi had never fought back before. A crackling sound made Cron smile. He sealed his blaster in a small plastic bag, the same thing his men were doing judging by the noises floating through the air. In a whisper he let out the word, “Keanos,” an old Volmi expression for home. Seconds later the entire group was underwater and swimming towards their safe haven. Cron hated killing the trooper, but if that was what it took for the Volmi to be free, he’d personally shoot every trooper in the Empire.

The day had brought with it five different simulator missions. Thrash had propped his bed against the wall so it stood upright. Talos moved around it in short hops and fired off rapid combinations of quick jabs. Wearing nothing put a loose pair of pants as he worked out, his muscular frame dripping with sweat from the workout. The thin mattress failed to absorb any of the sound caused as his fists impacted it. His rhythm creating a song, the beats getting faster and faster. Unnoticed by Thrash, the door slid open for the room’s other resident. As Skeng walked in, trooper Atani could be seen standing outside the door. The Carthain glanced over at Thrash and then fell onto his own bed. Cooper linked his hands and slid them underneath his head. “Thrash, did I thank you for sending Tak to sick call yet?”

Thrash didn’t even looked over at Skeng. He worked his fists into what would be the stomach of a humanoid opponent. His response came between heavy breathes. “No you didn’t. Why would you thank me for that?”

Cooper laughed. “I met the nicest nurse while there. She’s been giving me biology lessons.” Talos sighed audibly at his roommate and slammed his foot into the mattress with a spinning roundhouse. Cooper watched a moment and then began stripping down for bed. The room was roughly divided in two, although both men kept their limited selection of clothes scattered on the floor. Talos gripped the upper edge of the mattress and repeatedly worked his knee into the center.

“Hey, where’s Chuta?” Because of the security issues surrounding him, Talos wasn’t allowed access to his own astromech at all times. So R2-H8, or Hate as Talos delightedly called the little droid, stayed in the simulator area. Skeng on the other hand had no restrictions. Talos pushed away from the mattress, spun around, and slammed the back of his elbow into it.

Skeng fell back down onto his mattress and suppressed a laugh. “He’s around here somewhere. I’m sure he’ll turn up.” Talos nodded and connected with an uppercut before dancing back a few steps. Skeng slid the wafer thin pillow over his head and complained loudly. “Are you going to do that all night? Some of us are going to need their strength for tomorrow.” Thrash ignored the melodrama in Skeng’s voice and continued to pummel his opponent.

Nihil Rem sat on his bed and picked up the holo of his family. He leaned back and let out a long sigh. In his room he could be comfortable. The Alliance had set him up a room that supplied him with his own atmosphere so he didn’t have to wear his breather mask at all times. While he appreciated the convenience of it, it seemed as if it put up even more walls around him. Making him more of an outsider to his squadron. Nihil had only begun to feel a part of his former unit, and now he had left them. He was sure that given the time he would treat this new group like family, but now, while lying down in a quiet room, he was very alone. He studied the holo of his family; it had been two years since he had been home. His children were growing without him. But he was fighting for them. One day his home would be free from the Empire, his family understood that. He just had a hard time convincing himself sometimes. Nihil closed his eyes and fell a sleep; the holo clutched in his hand, and dreamt of home that was thousands of galaxies away.

Soto Madry lay in his bunk and stared at the ceiling. Across the room from him was Carson Dire. The man was passed out before they even left the Loading Zone tonight and he had to be carried back to the room. Now Dire was in his bunk and snoring so loud that it could be heard in the hallway outside. Soto shifted in his bed and threw the covers over his head. This was a test, he knew that much. What many of the people in the Rebellion didn’t know was that Soto was going to be a hero. Soto knew it though, and he knew there were going to be tests to see if he was truly worthy or not. Tests that would challenge his stamina, his intelligence, his skills, and his very will. Madry rolled over and shoved his head under the pillow, the sound of a nasal buzz saw still ripping into his ears. He let out a small sigh; this was his least favorite test so far.

Shiel and Veid Verlott lay in beds across from one another as they had done for most of their life. Both women had spent the evening with Soto, Carson, Dara, and Ruade in the Loading Zone. They had even watched the men carry Dire back into his quarters before they retired back to theirs. Both women had been inseparable growing up, and late night talks had become an almost sacred ritual between the two. Veid was the first to break the silence of the dark room. “Shiel, why do you think Cooper didn’t show up in the Loading Zone tonight?”

“You’re the one who likes him, why don’t you ask him?”

“I don’t like him that way! I was just curious.”

“You expect me to believe that Veid?”

“Umm…only cause you love me?”

“Good night Veid.”

“Shiel?”

“Yes Veid?”

“You wouldn’t be jealous if I started seeing him?”

“No Veid.”

“I just wanted to make sure, I mean. He is cute.”

“Good night Veid.”

“Shiel?”

“What?”

“Good night love.”

Ruade was already asleep. Alcohol always tended to put him to sleep, so he nursed his drinks slowly when out with the other squadron members. But now he was buried deep in slumber, even the constant hum of the room’s humidifier couldn’t wake him. He was left with his dreams. Dreams where he was constantly escaping a prison buried beneath the waves. Dreams where he was chased by a man with a scar down his chin. Ruade thrashed in his bed until his dreams finally gave him a reprieve and let him drift off into a more refreshing slumber. The nightmares would linger far enough into the morning to remind him while he was fighting though.

Dara snuck quietly into her own room. The sliding of the automated door seemed to make entirely too much noise. The Twi’lek glanced over to the side of the room that belonged to her roommate and breathed a sigh of relief. Mekita was usually in bed by the time Dara got back into their room, but she always woke up enough to shoot a glare Dara’s way. Lin’Say spun around and giggled before readying herself for bed. As she slid into the sheets, she hoped Mekita stayed out even longer. D’Amico had a daily regiment that involved a morning workout. A workout regimen that took place far too early in the morning for Dara’s tastes. If nothing else, it gave Dara a chance to return all of Mekita’s harsh glares. The days in the simulators were hard for her, she had no doubt she had the poorest piloting skills. No one was condemning her, but she was sure that if anyone was going to be let go, she would be the first. Dara slid her lekku over the sheet as she tried to get comfortable. Sleep came to her easily, although even without Mekita’s workout waking her, the morning came all too soon.

Rian looked at his cards as the pulse field scrambled them. He took a moment to add up the total in his head and let out a sigh. Jace was sitting to his right and threw blue chips into the center of the table. “I’ll raise it two. So Rian you didn’t tell us how the training has been going yet.”

Ikner laid his cards face down on the table. “I’m out. They’re starting to pull it together Jace. I think I got a bunch of good pilots. Except my XO of course.” Zwick tossed a white chip across the table and bounced it off of Rian’s hand, prompting laughs from the four men.

Juve slide three blue chips towards the center of the table and let a grin climb across his face. “I haven’t seen your psycho boy since he floored old Tacky, where you keeping him locked up?”

Rian looked over the thin man a moment, his gaze filled with the weariness that had filled him lately. His new squadron was rough around the edges and polishing those edges was taking a lot out of him. “Don’t start that crap tonight Juve.”

Juve laughed loudly. “Come on Rian, tell us what it’s like running Problem Squadron.”

Rian sent daggers into Juve with his eyes. He took a moment to formulate what he was going to say, so more then a stream of insults rushed out of his mouth when a knock came at his door. Rian cast one last look to Juve and went to his door. A tap of a button sent the door sliding open without a sound. Mekita D’Amico stood outside the door at attention. Her features showed a little uncertainty as she spoke up, “Sir, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Don’t worry about it Mekita, Zwick’s already stole enough of my pay tonight. Come on inside.” Mekita took the first step as if it would take her off a cliff and send her hurtling towards the ground. “What was it you needed to talk about?”

Mekita kept her militaristic stance and pushed the unease out of her demeanor. “I’d like you to rethink the pilots you put into Three Flight.”

“I think your flight has been coming along nicely, what is the problem?”

“Sir, I believe Dara Lin’Say and Skeng Cooper should be moved into different flights.”

Rian felt his anger rising again. Both Zwick and he had noticed slight anti-alien tendencies over the past few days. “OK, I’m willing to reason with you here. What are your complaints with Cooper?”

“He’s a thief. He only listens to me when he feels like it. And then there is the thing with his astromech. They found it wedged into the garbage chute tonight. The garbage chute!”

“I put Cooper under you because I thought he would benefit from your discipline. As far as him being a thief, no one has bought it to my attention that anything on base is missing. Are you privy to information I don’t have?”

Mekita didn’t flinch. Her eyes stayed glued to his. “No sir, I am not.”

“Fine then. I will talk to him about the droid problem if you don’t want to, but you’ve given me no reason to pull him out from under you. Lets hear your reasons for Dara.”

“Well sir, she’s…”

“Twi’lek?”

Mekita’s visage broke from the formal mask she had it molded into. “What? No! That…”

Rian edged closer to her. His anger at Juve was being fed by the conversation and hit Mekita in waves as it pulsed out of him. “You have all night to think that answer over Mekita. If you can find a reason why someone struggling with their piloting shouldn’t be paired with one of the best pilots in the squadron, let me know. But I also want you to remember whom we’re fighting here. And whom we’re fighting for. And quite frankly you’re sounding like a member the former and not the latter. If you cared about the deaths on Stellar Breeze you’d start seeing everyone as people and not as human and non-human. You left the Empire because you didn’t like what they stand for; you better not start becoming more like them. You are dismissed.”

Mekita’s eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open from shock. Each sentence hit her like a slap across the face. The fact that they weren’t human did bother her. That wasn’t the reason she really wanted them out of her flight. Was it? “Sir, I think..”

“I said dismissed D’Amico. Don’t make me say it again.” The woman turned meekly away and headed for the door. Rage was still bleeding off of Rian as the door slid shut. As he stalked to the card table all three men diverted their gaze away from him. Ikner dropped into the chair and let out a long sigh. “Don’t even say it Juve.” The other two men let out a laugh that killed some of the tension. Juve mocked a look of shock on his face and threw a couple of chips at Rian. “I know they need some work. But it’ll all come together like I planned.”