What to do now? That was a question running through four minds in particular. Their minds were intensely wrestling with what their course of action should be. Since the destruction of the First Order Star Destroyer that had been relentlessly tracking the Colossus, Torra, Tam, Synara and Kaz had been meeting together at Aunt Z's. They'd been able to hash out a number of problematic issues and grievances. Tam's turning her back on them, and subsequent defection from the First Order had been the hot button topic for several sessions. Progressively, the group had moved on from that. Tam's head was back on straight, and with her allegiance to her friends solidified, Torra, Synara and Kaz made an oath that not one of them would ever bring up Tam's stint with the First Order ever again.

Forgiving her, and moving on, cleared the way for the crucial decision the quartet had reached. The Resistance was in crisis. The Battle of Crait had left their forces severely depleted. How could the First Order be brought down if no one stepped up to fill the ranks of those who had fallen?

"So…it's decided then." Kaz searched the resolute-looking faces of his female fellow supporters. "We commit to joining the Resistance. No turning back." He thrust his right hand into the center of their intimate circle, waiting for the women to grasp his in solidarity. They didn't leave him hanging. "Poe and General Organa need us."

Tam quickly spoke up, "This time I choose the only side that makes sense. The only side that will liberate people, not murder, or enslave them. When I think how stupid I was for going to the First Order, I want to crawl into a trash compactor and drown myself."

"Ah, c'mon, Tam. Again, I keep reminding you, that Captain Doza was once an Imperial. People can change their minds once their eyes are opened. You said it yourself. When yours were opened, they stayed that way, and you ran out as fast as you could."

Tam nodded, in complete agreement with Kaz. "Yes. It's true. As I've said before. The First Order is a cold, impersonal, bloodthirsty machine. They called us by numbers. Never by names. Whenever I got sent out on a mission, I couldn't do as I'd been ordered. There is no justification for killing innocent people. There won't ever be!"

"Here, here," Synara and Torra chimed in, bumping fists with Tam.

Kaz added, "I'm done with spying. We take it to them head on."

Torra said, "That's why we're with you, Kaz. We haven't actually discussed when we plan to leave."

Kaz felt his gut twist. He remembered the last time he had informed everyone that he would join the Resistance. It hadn't gone over well with practically everyone, the worst one having been Neeku. Kaz seriously considered not breathing a word to Vozo. The mechanic couldn't take it; he was highly emotional for a Kadas'sa'Nikto. And yet, the majority of the Colossus' citizens were just as emotional.

"I'm not the best pilot out of all of us," Synara owned up, "but I will give piloting my all for the Resistance. I hate the First Order, and will do everything I can personally do to defeat it."

"That's the spirit, everybody. Okay, so, let's take a vote. All in favor of leaving the day after tomorrow, say, 'I.'"

The quartet raised their voices in unison, declaring support for Kaz's proposal. "All right then. The day after tomorrow it is."

"I think I could persuade my mother to join us," Torra said, giving them a firm smile.

"Your mother joining us would be excellent, but, Torra, she looks so happy, and content being with your father again. Do you think she would want to leave him so soon?" Synara patted Torra's hand. "Maybe you could put in that she could join the Resistance later on."

They saw in Torra's face her acceptance of Synara's suggestion. "I'll tell her that. And it's true I've never seen my father happier since Mom's return. They truly love each other." Torra glowed having said that. "It's beautiful." She blinked a few times, a little misty-eyed.

Tam sighed. "So much fighting…so little time. Do you think the Resistance needs a miracle to crush the First Order?" She smirked. "Like a new Jedi Order? Wouldn't that be great."

"It wouldn't hurt," Kaz said, bouncing a look of being on the same wavelength off her. "But, all we can do, is do what we can. Hey, we're top-notch pilots. We'll pass on what we know, turning okay squadrons into ace squads."

Synara was subdued, wishing she was better than just being a competent pilot. Glum, she confessed, "I'm not in your league, Torra, Tam, Kaz. I should've taken advantage of the opportunity to improve when I'd had those chances. I always thought being a tough fighter was more important."

Kaz, seated beside her, slid his arms over her shoulders. He coaxed her to get closer, and to stop being so down on herself. "Syn, you're great. And if you want us to coach you more. You've got us!" Feeling, bold in front of Torra and Tam, because he figured they had to know about Synara and him being in this whatever they were in, he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. Which brought a smile to her face.

Kaz reintroduced his hand into the middle of the circle, waiting for them to respond in kind. Again, they didn't leave him hanging. With hands grasped, the four squeezed tighter, and with voices raised, pledged, "One for all, and all for one. Look out, First Order, here we come!"

"And, Force," Synara whispered, "you know what you have to do: Be with us."

Since Aunt Z's was close to empty, they had no audience. Even Aunt Z was on break. Kaz took it upon himself to serve them another round of drinks, and a special non-alcoholic fruity punch for Torra.

After some time had gone by, Tam asked, "Do you think Yeager would join us?"

They all considered her question carefully. At length, Kaz submitted, "There's only one way to find out."

The women nodded, all on the same vibe with him. Sounding confidential, Synara said, "Let's go ask him."

Kaz patted her on the back. "Yeah. Let's. But first, let's finish our drinks, and then go get our stuff together before we approach him. We'll meet at the hangar in a cycle."

They made their ways to their respective bunks, full of expectation and purpose, to pack what little gear they would take for their courageous undertaking.