The office was silent, save for the continuous beat of the Federation Captain Edward Crolo's finger on his desk. Crolo, as everyone called him, was a bit of a hero in his sector. The former captain almost single-handedly stopped the dreaded Engi pirate lord Klaewea and his fleet through a series of attacks on his base planet, killing the pirate. This led to confusion on the planet, so Crolo and his small fleet of half a dozen ships launched bombing runs on anything that could fly. Over one hundred pirate ships were destroyed, the rest disbanded, and the sector has been peaceful ever since.

Well, as peaceful as you can be in war times. The destruction of their flagship was a terrible blow, and the rebels have been slowly losing space since. But not quickly enough. He received a message from his CO asking for one more mission. It would bring him out of his current job; training new captains of the Federation. The job, while significantly less deadly as his old one, was getting under his skin. He wanted to fly, to feel like he was doing something useful. Not just sit around and tell cadets basic flight patterns, like he had been for the past two months. He wanted the face the problem head-on, preferably by blowing up some rebels and pirates.

So there he sat, tapping his finger on his clean, tidy desk, which matched his clean, tidy office. He had already filed his papers, then reorganized them. He glanced at his clock. 18:27 it displayed. Crolo frowned, it had been 18:27 for two minutes, or so it seemed. Crolo sat up and grabbed a tablet from his desk showing maps, numbers, graphs, and territories. It was his war pad, it showed a large amount of information regarding the war, but nothing classified, just facts. It looked like it had for the past year; a long, slow, bloody crawl to victory. He put the tablet away and looked out his window to see three Adjudicator class ships taking off, presumably to help on the front lines. Crolo frowned.

"Captain Crolo," A deep, gravelly voice came from his doorway. Crolo stood to attention abruptly to see his old friend Drozan. Drozan was huge, even for rockmen standards. He had marble colored skin, and it seemed like all his mass went up. His biceps and triceps were huge, matching his barrel chest, but his legs were surprisingly thin, and his feet were about the size as Crolo's. His face was full of cracks -old and new- which was evidence to his thirty years of military experience.

"Oh, it's you. I'd love to talk, but I'm awaiting a message from Colonel Jones about a mission,"

"You're looking at him," Drozan said simply.

"What do you mean?" Crolo was surprised. "This is completely off protocol, you know,"

"When have I ever followed protocol? Follow," Drozan said as he walked out of the office. Crolo obliged. "We're going on a special mission, we're taking an Engi negotiator to convince the Engi nation to join the war against the rebs,"

"But they have a non-aggression treaty, don't they?"

"Well, we'll have to change that won't we?" Drozan said as they walked into an elevator. Three seconds and seventeen floors later, they were at the training hall observation floor, where you can see all the trainees honing their skills. The floor was made so advisors can access all their pupils at once from a bird's-eye view.

"Ok then, when do we leave?" Crolo asked as they looked onto the trainees.

"As soon as we get a weapons operative,"

Crolo frowned. "I'm the weapons operative," He had worked that position for over twelve years.

"Not anymore, you're commander,"

"Then, who's working the engines? We are having an engineer, aren't we?" Crolo said worryingly. He always says a ship without an engineer isn't a ship for long.

"The Engi is,"

"Ok then," Crolo could feel it. He's going back into space, maybe even today. He's fighting a war, he's helping the Federation in what could be the second most important strike on the rebels. He saw Drozan look out into the training room, and did the same. They were above the firing range and about three dozen trainees of all kinds of races firing on quickly changing targets. Your ability with a gun was directly proportional with your skill as a weapon operative. Both Drozan and Crolo knew this was training hour for people who were ready to go on missions.

"Got any picks?" Crolo asked as he fingered through a tablet that had all the current trainees info on it. Drozan grunted. Crolo decided to make the first move. "That Slug there looks pretty good, nice reflexes," Drozan stayed silent, eyeing the group. Crolo found him in the database and saw he was as good as he first looked. Six years experience, four of them on the front lines, and over a dozen missions. Sasolog was his name. A human caught his eye, Ann. She fought on the front lines for three years, her stats were good, but she hadn't been selected for a mission in almost a year. He found her on the range and frowned as he figured out why. She had a bad limp in her right leg. If she had to get anywhere in a hurry, she was in trouble.

"I like that Zoltan," Drozan said while pointing. Crolo saw him and was impressed. He was knocking down the targets faster than anyone else. As five new targets reared their heads, he fired three shots with three hits while only exposing himself for half a second. Crolo searched for him on the tablet and was disappointed. The Zoltan, Hani, had only been training for a year and had only been on one mission. His stats were phenomenal, but Crolo was worried that his lack of experience would outweigh that.

"I don't know, he's only been on one mission, Drozan," Crolo reasoned.

"Good reflexes," Drozan replied.

"This is a very important mission," Crolo pointed out.

"So was the Flagship's," Drozan said. And he was right; most that ship's crew were mercenaries, former slaves, or volunteers.

"Look, I'm sorry Drozan, but he just doesn't have enough experience,"

"How will he get experience?"

"Well, someone will take him on a mission or-"

"Then we'll pick him up on a mission and he'll get experience. Besides my ship's weapons are easy."

Crolo was shocked. "Your ship?" Drozan was the pilot of the Claystone, a modified Rock Cruiser. It had most of her rooms taken out to have a central room where the crew could meet.

Drozan took a step towards Crolo. "So what if it is my ship?"

"No problem at all! I thought it would scare them. Scare the Engi off their metal rock! You know, be-"

"Ok," Drozan was not amused. Crolo had almost broken the unspoken Ship's Code: never make fun of a fellow captain's ship in front of them. Drozan took the tablet from Crolo and hit the 'Call' button under Hani's face and yelled into the mic.

"Uh, Hani! Get up into the floor above you! And hurry it up!" Crolo saw the confusion in Hani's movements and felt sorry for him.

But Drozan looked deeper. He saw Hani, despite the panic, keep his movements smooth and controlled. The small, glowing hand flew; pressing buttons, turning knobs, and typing in codes seemingly all at once. In a few seconds, the firing range went dark and lifeless and Hani ran towards the elevator. Few of the other trainees noticed him; they were focused completely on the rebel-shaped targets.

"Good," Drozan said as he started to walk towards the elevator. Crolo followed.

"What's good?" He asked as they reached the elevator. Drozan grunted. They both stood at attention instinctively. Then the elevator door opened, revealing a shocked Hani. Crolo and Drozan each gave a salute (But Drozan wasn't as quick as Crolo). Hani then put his hand up in the Zoltan salute: his middle finger behind his pointer finger touched lightly to the middle of his forehead. He then made a fist at the level of his chin (the Rockman salute) and finally gave the standard salute.

Drozan grunted. "What's with the hand gestures?" Hani was flabbergasted for a second.

"Don't mind him," Crolo sighed. "I'm Captain Crolo, and I will be your CO for your next mission." He walked into the elevator. "You will be our weapons operative on a mission to the Engi planet JUD-624…"