Commander Tharcourt watched the workers and droids renovate the old sitting area. Tharcourt had been busy the last two weeks. Planning out the structure and operating procedures of the new unit hadn't been terribly difficult. Tarkin in fact had approved most of his ideas and resolutions. It had also been oddly easy to find a space to house a covert unit and its gear, and act as a briefing room. The commander had found a mostly unused lounge room between the main docking bay and hanger area and the aft armory on level 28. Being near the training hall, and removed from most of the crew quarters and recreational areas, it made a perfect space for the team. Piett had immediately granted Tharcourt permission to take over the lounge and the contiguous office spaces for his use.

Commander Tharcourt had also requisitioned a T-4 series shuttle, which was in the process of being modified with a cloaking device and heavier blaster cannons. He had also acquired a large quantity of weapons, gear and armor, which were now stored in one of the old offices. He had also spent hours reviewing personnel files, searching for potential candidates for the new strike team. The commander had already found a few prospective members, and was ready to begin interviewing the soldiers at once. Though each step wasn't too problematic in itself, it had been 'death by a thousand cuts' as the saying goes, and Tharcourt was beginning to feel fatigued from the last two weeks. As he watched the demolition, a scout trooper walked into the room and came to attention.

"SK-079 reporting as ordered, sir." He stated. Tharcourt turned and returned the salute.

"At ease, sergeant." Tharcourt stated. "What's your name?"

"Sergeant Rix Felian, sir." The trooper replied. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Sorry about the mess, sergeant." The officer stated, flicking a hand toward the construction work. "Trying to revamp this area. Damn…fiberglass everywhere." He dusted off his tunic.

"Um…yes sir…"

"Anyway, I wanted to meet with you to offer you a change of scenery." Tharcourt said vaguely. Felian was confused. What would this officer be talking about? Sending the scout to officer's training? Hopefully not some desk job. "Let's take a walk, sergeant." He led the trooper out into the corridor, and turned to the scout trooper.

"You can remove your helmet, sergeant." The commander stated. Felian paused a second, then slid off his bucket, placing it under his left arm. Tharcourt studied the man a few moments. Tanned skin tone, short-cropped black hair, and brown eyes that seemed to constantly scan his surroundings. A man who had a high level of situational awareness. Tharcourt motioned with his head, and they started down the hall, Felian to the right of the commander. He occasionally stole a glance to the officer, who stared straight ahead, his arms folded behind him as he walked in a quick and determined way.

"You a tracker, sergeant?" Tharcourt finally asked.

"Yes sir." Felian answered.

"Go on." The officer goaded.

"Well sir, I am more than experienced with all forms of Imperial issue electronic surveillance and communications equipment." The trooper responded. "Remote, thermal, seismic, and barrier-penetrating observation systems. It may seem unconventional sir, but I have also had success utilizing viper and covert probe droids. I know those are normally only used by higher-echelon types, but I like making technology work for me."

"Good." Tharcourt simply said. "How about physical tracking? You know, low-tech trailcraft, sergeant?"

"You know your stuff, sir." Felian quipped, then suddenly wondered if he had breeched protocol. He didn't see the commander smile for a short moment. "I mean yes sir. I can do physical tracking."

"It's not bragging if you are being directly asked about your skill-set now, sergeant." Tharcourt advised.

"Well, then yes sir. I can read sign, use blood trails, footprints, all of that. I've hunted big game since I was a kid."

"Good to know." The commander stated. He then stopped, and the sergeant halted beside him. Suddenly, Tharcourt seized his arm, and led him into a supply room, closing the door behind them.

"I will be direct, sergeant." He began. "I am willing to offer you a position on a new team being formed. This is all confidential, you understand?"

"Yes sir." The scout trooper NCO replied.

"A new unit is being formed, answering only to Imperial Command. It is to be utilized as a hunter-killer squad to combat insurgents. Hunter-killer. And we need hunters. Now, this is a one-off. Refuse, and you will not be asked again. You will be RTU'd to your platoon, with orders to forget everything you have seen and heard today. Accept, and you will be able to better serve the Empire, answer only to me, receive an extra hundred credits a month, and be involved in missions of a classified nature, operating in multiple types of environments. You will also be free from having to take part in any exercises, fatigue duties and formations outside of the unit." He paused for a moment to let everything sink in. "What do you think, sergeant?"

"If I accept sir…" Felian began. "It means I wouldn't have to stand around on boring planets doing nothing, and pulling over speeding teenagers." He smiled. "Why would I refuse, sir?"

"I think you are just the type of soldier I need." Tharcourt commented. "I'll put your paperwork through at once. You are now operating under Imperial Special Forces." He hit the button to open the door. "Now…I was just on my way to the training hall to see if I couldn't…scout for new talent. Would you like to join me, Sergeant Felian?"

"Of course, sir." The two made their way down the long corridor to the ISD Accuser's training facility. They walked through the large entry hatch, and found themselves on a wide platform overlooking the floor below. The gargantuan room was set up to provide training for all types of soldiers stationed on board the large vessel. There was a shooting range, small cordoned-off rooms for hand-to-hand combat and close-quarters shooting, and even a large area with a holoprojector which could mimic different environments for more practical simulations of real-world terrains. At this time of day, the hall was mostly deserted, save for a lone figure in one of the CQB rooms tucked into a nearby corner. Tharcourt and Felian made their way across the raised catwalk, which was used by training officers to watch the units and individual soldiers as they trained, and looked down on the room.

A young female officer, what looked to be an ensign, Drakken Tharcourt observed, was setting up the arena used for close quarters shooting. The station used training droids firing stun blasters, powerful but nonlethal weapons, to simulate firefights. The commander noted the young woman's strange attire. Instead of the standard grey trousers officers were issued, she wore a grey skirt that almost reached her knees. Her boots were also a bit odd, being cut away at the toes and heels. Her curly red hair was long, reaching almost to the back of her knees, and tied back at the nape of her neck. Most strange though, was the weapon she carried. Instead of a blaster, the red-haired ensign held an electrostaff, something unusual in a shooting simulation. As they watched, two training droids emerged from the floor near her, and she activated her staff, blue energy crackling near the ends of the weapon.

"She's going to engage training droids with a staff?" Felian asked.

"One person with a pole weapon or vibroblade can easily defeat one or two armed opponents at close range…if they know what they're doing, sergeant." Tharcourt advised. They watched as the droids activated. The first fired a stun blaster at the young ensign, but she had already leaped to the side and rolled away, the droid unable to track her with its weapon. She spun and pirouetted until she could close with the training unit. She gave it a sharp blow to the side of the head, spun about, and thrust rearward with her staff, striking the droid in the chest, deactivating it. The young woman then turned her attention to the second droid, which had begun to fire at her. She spun to the side, ducked a bolt, and swung the staff, knocking the robot's weapon arm aside. She then finished it with a stab upward into the droid's head.

"See, sergeant?" Tharcourt commented. "More than a match." They watched as she walked over to the terminal, and typed on the keyboard.

"That was kind of impressive sir." Felian stated.

"She must be some riot-control officer." Tharcourt mused. "Only people I know of who use elecrostaffs."

"Definitely a combat officer. What do you think, sir?"

"Don't know yet." Commander Tharcourt replied. "Let's see who this girl is." He turned to the monitor behind them, which displayed which unit or individual soldier was utilizing the training area.

"Hmm…Ensign Freya Thorne." Tharcourt read. "And she's now set the difficulty level to 4. This should be interesting…"

Four droids surrounded the ensign, and she stood silently among them, her staff at the ready. As soon as they activated, the young officer leaped toward one, and deactivated it immediately. She then dashed around the room, blaster bolts flying around her. As she reached the next droid, who was turning to engage her, Thorne jammed the tip of the staff against the floor between its feet and launched herself around it, the polearm tripping the droid. She finished it with a strike to the head. One of the droids landed a hit on her right shoulder, and the two spectators winced, but to their amazement, she seemed unfazed. She continued her attack on the two remaining droids.

"She just…absorbed that blast, sir." Felian observed. Tharcourt was somewhat amazed at this young officer. She had to be a riot control officer. No garrison officer could fight like this, or eat a stun bolt and just keep going. He watched as she finished off the last droid, and saw her huffing from exertion. After a few moments, she let out a low growl, and walked back to the control terminal, and began pushing buttons again. Tharcourt turned back to the screen.

"She just set the training program to level six." Commander Tharcourt commented. He quickly turned back to the scene below. "What the hell…is she doing?" He muttered.

"I don't know sir, but It sure as hell looks like she is about to attempt it." They watched as six more droids were raised to the training floor, and the ensign got into a combat stance. The droids activated, and she was immediately hit with a blaster bolt."

"Ugh. She picked one up there." Felian remarked. She was hit twice more. "Ow…she's done now."

"Not…quite…" Tharcourt returned. She had finally closed with the first of the training units, and swiftly brought it down with a swing of her weapon. She spun about, thrusting forward, catching another in the chest, deactivating it. She ate another stun bolt, and cried out, quickly recovering and fighting through the painful barrage. The commander could catch glimpses of her face, and saw the tears pouring from her eyes as she fought. To take that many stun bolts…one had to have either an unbelievable will or a terrifyingly high threshold for pain. Either way, Tharcourt thought, this was no longer amusing.

The ensign now held her staff in a two-handed grip as she maneuvered behind one of the units, and caught it in a chokehold. This forced the other droids to fire on their own comrade, and it soon shut off. She then bounded off of the droid, running at the remaining training remotes, screaming, her long red-orange hair streaming behind her as she rushed her opponents in an erratic serpentine pattern.

She was slowly working her way through her opponents, but being shot to pieces. Tharcourt could hear her agonized and rage-filled screams. They tore at him. He was no longer amused by the ensign's display. What she was doing had become dangerous, almost suicidal. What was she trying to prove? Was she some junior officer attempting to make herself look important? Did she have some kind of death wish?

"What the hell are we watching, sergeant?" Tharcourt queried coldly.

"Nothing I've ever seen, sir." The scout trooper answered. They watched as the girl threw herself bodily into one of the training droids, shrieking like a dying animal. She toppled it over with her momentum, and began stabbing the remote in the head over and over again with the end of her electrostaff. In the light, Drakken could see tears pouring down the young woman's face. She lurched as a stun bolt from the last droid hit her in the back. She began screaming again as she leaped off of the now deactivated droid, and ate another bolt from the machine before she'd closed enough distance to maneuver the staff in a sweeping arc that knocked its weapon-hand down and to the right, then with a flick, the girl had changed the direction of the pole weapon, and brought it against the back of the droid's legs, bringing it to the ground. She stood there a moment, and her shoulders shook as if she were crying again.

"She took out 6 training droids…with a karking staff." Tharcourt muttered.

"Maybe she's crazy, sir." The scout offered. The commander looked at the sergeant. "You know, section-8, completely off her nut."

"Maybe. Maybe not…" Tharcourt replied. He watched as she walked over to the terminal, presumably to end the exercise. Instead, another beep was heard from the display unit behind them, and Tharcourt turned to see the setting was now placed on eight. "Okay…yeah...I'm beginning to think she's crazy." He sighed. "Tell you what, sergeant, you go back to your quarters and pack. Find you a bunk back at the old lounge area. I figure we all need to be garrisoned together. I'll meet you back there later."

"Yes sir." The trooper saluted. "What are you going to do, sir?"

"Don't know. Maybe stop a young girl from killing herself." As the sergeant disappeared up the catwalk, Tharcourt quickly made his way down to the training arena below as the six deactivated droids were replaced by eight new ones, standing in the ready position.

Thorne readied herself as the new droids rose from the floor, completely surrounding her. Tears ran down her freckled cheeks. Her body burned from the impact of over a dozen stun bolts. She didn't even know what she was feeling anymore. Empty? Resigned? Tharcourt reached the control terminal just as the training droids activated. Thorne triggered her electrostaff and held it behind her back. The droids raised their blasters toward her, preparing to fire. At the last moment, Tharcourt hit the red 'emergency stop' button on the console, causing the droids to deactivate, slumping into wilted standing positions.

"Wh…what?" Thorne stammered, confused as the training droids went dark.

"Ensign!" Tharcourt roared.

"Sir!" Freya called, turning toward the sound of the voice and coming to a crisp salute out of habit. She could see an officer, but because of the lighting in the combat arena, he was shrouded in shadows as he stepped out from behind the control terminal.

"What the hell was that?" He demanded. "What the hell were you doing, ensign?!"

"I was just training, sir!" She answered. He stepped closer, and she could see his face. He looked familiar somehow, some officer she'd seen on board the vessel somewhere. He had an angry look on his face.

"You were about to get mutilated." He stated. "Is that what you wanted?!"

"No sir." She returned. "I had it under control, sir!"

"Sithspit!" He argued. "I've seen some reckless and suicidal stuff in my day, but this takes the cake!" He said, gesturing angrily toward the deactivated droids. "You could've been killed. You know that, right?" He saw the tears in her eyes, and her bottom lip quivered. "You…you know that…" He said in a soft voice. "Damn it…at ease, alright?" He sat down on a bench near the training area. "Come here." He said. Thorne froze for a moment. She didn't know whether to go to the strange officer or to run away. "Come here, ensign." Tharcourt repeated. Freya obeyed, and approached the officer on the bench. She expected him to yell at her again, but instead, he just looked up at her with a concerned expression on his face. For a moment, her green eyes met his brown ones.

"Sit?" He spoke. She nodded, and sat next to him on the bench. For a while, neither spoke. Commander Tharcourt finally broke the silence.

"You okay, kid?" He asked. The question was so simple, yet so profound, and Thorne didn't know how to answer for a while. She realized that this had been the first time since she had joined the Imperial military that someone had asked her how she was.

"I'm…okay…sir." She said.

"Now that's a lie." Drakken stated. The comment made her wince. "Where did you learn to fight like that?" He asked "I have to admit that was pretty impressive."

"Um…Every child where I'm from is brought up learnin' how to fight, sir." She answered. "I um…I always liked staff weapons."

"I can tell." Tharcourt returned. "Who is your commanding officer? Where do you work, ensign?"

"I'm assigned to prisoner detention, transport, interrogation and…removal." She answered in an unenthusiastic tone.

"You?" Tharcourt shot back with a raised eyebrow. "By the stars, girl…I never pegged you as a prison guard or an interrogator."

"Well…I really only do paperwork and cleaning. That's about it…"

"Ah well…now that makes more sense." The commander nodded. "Who are you stationed under right now?"

"Captain Rallis, sir." Thorne answered. Drakken noticed that the girl suddenly became very anxious, and started breathing harder. "Please sir…please…doon't tell Captain Rallis 'bout this…please…" He finally got it. This girl obviously had some dark thing bottled up inside of her, and had a superior officer who was probably so strict and apathetic, that they didn't care or notice. It happened.

"Hey…calm down." He said, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She started at his touch, and Tharcourt drew his hand back. Why was she acting so terrified of him? Most new ensigns were intimidated by higher officers, but this young woman was acting almost like some starved and beaten animal. He sighed. "I won't." He stated. She looked at him suspiciously, and he shrugged. "You asked me to, so I won't…you'd probably get in trouble for something stupid. Don't need that…so…yeah, don't worry, kid." He took out a package of cigarras, withdrew one and lit it, blowing the smoke from his nose. He offered them to Freya. She stared at them a moment.

"Smoking…isn't allowed in here, sir." She said in a low voice. Drakken took another drag and grinned.

"Going to report me, ensign?" He asked mockingly. She smiled.

"No…I won't do that, sir. You'd just get in trouble…for something stupid." She muttered. He nodded. "Do they help?"

"Eh. Sometimes." Tharcourt answered. He took another drag, then handed the cigarra to the young officer. She took it between the thumb and forefinger of her trembling right hand, placed it between her lips and took an experimental puff, inhaling the smoke. She almost coughed, and then exhaled. After a few seconds, she began to feel a little light-headed. The commander nodded, and she took another, longer draw, inhaling the burning tabac. She held it in for a moment, then blew the smoke out. As Freya handed the cigarra back, she noticed that her hands were no longer shaking as badly.

"Thanks, sir." She said.

"Yep." He inhaled deeply of the smoke and blew it out. "Commander Drakken Tharcourt."

"Ensign Freya Thorne."

"It's good to meet you, ensign." He said openly.

"You…you too, commander." She returned. "So…what do ye do?"

"Hm. I think it's classified." Drakken replied. "I command a unit. You know, that sort of thing."

"Soons…excitin'." Freya commented, imagining this man doing thrilling and dangerous things in far-off places, the very thing she thought being an imperial officer would mean.

"Eh…" He shrugged. "It can be." He crushed out the cigarra. "So Thorne…talk to me. Is there anything I can help you with?" Again, she was caught off guard. Nobody had been this nice to her since she left Breoh'Lar. It felt…strange. She sighed.

"No…not really, sir." She muttered. "It's just been…really hard for me. I try to do me job…and I…appar'ntly I don't do nothin' right…"

"I was an ensign once upon a time…" Tharcourt said in a thoughtful tone. "It's rough. It's confusing. Sometimes it feels like everyone wants you to fail." He smiled a little, remembering his time as an ensign. "I had a good commanding officer, so that helped a lot."

"Lucky…" Freya commented dryly. "Be'er than bein' treated like some poor, ingn'rnt servant girl all th' time." She immediately knew she'd crossed the line. "F'rgive me, sir. That was…"

"No…" Drakken interjected. "It's best to get things off of your chest while you can. I'm not here to judge. Just…sitting." Thorne paused a moment.

"I don't…" Freya looked at the officer. She was still a little wary of him, but something about the commander made her want to trust him. He was so different from all of the other 'spit and shine' officers she normally had to deal with, with their stern expressions and almost autonomous bearing. In a way, he was what Freya thought a combat officer would be like. Maybe that was it, she reasoned. Maybe it was the fact that this was someone who actually spent time on the ground doing things, instead of being trapped in a stuffy ship drifting through space all the time. She couldn't explain why, but she wanted to trust him, and she felt like she could.

"It's just…" She began. She felt all of the anger and despair of the last two weeks boiling up inside of her again. "I don't know what t' do! I know I'm an idiot. I nue I can b' stupid an'…an' incoomp'tent an' fergetful sometimes. I want t' be a good off'cer, I really do! I want to be better. I jes' mess tings up…all th' time…" Tears welled up in her eyes, and Drakken sat in silence, listening to the young ensign pour her heart out. "An' it feels like n'body cares at all! Like ev'rybody wants t' look down on me and tell me how wrong an' kriffin' stupid I am…" She let out a keening whine. "But n'body wants to tell me 'ow t' be better…'ow t' not…" She clenched her gloved hands into fists, and brought them down hard on the seat of the bench. "Don't just punish me for bein' an idiot! Tell me what I'm doin' wrong! Tell me 'ow t' be a good officer!"

Drakken finally got it. This poor girl was trying hard to be the best she could, but something had happened to her. She had a lot of pain bottled up inside, and no way to vent it out. She let out a few pained sobs, and burst out in some language Tharcourt didn't understand.

"Buille mi oir tha mi nam amadan, ach feuch an ionnsaich thu dhomh mar a bhios tu glick, Uilebheistean meallta!" She screamed, then buried her face in her hands, and Drakken could barely hear her next words

"I'm not…I'm not jest some stupid lil' hoor…" She whimpered. Tharcourt waited for her to catch her breath.

"Well…I may have only known you for about ten minutes…but I certainly don't think you're that, ensign…" He said softly. She slowly raised her head and sniffled, then looked nervously toward him.

"Ye think not…sir?" She whimpered. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Thorne, I just watched you take out six training droids with an electrostaff. I can't even do that." He continued. "This life of ours…it's rough. People…sometimes superiors are going to try to tear you down. Heh. Believe it or not, I recently got promoted, and you know why? Because someone up at the top wants to see me to prove him wrong, or die trying. Probably counts on the latter."

"That's cruel…" Freya commented. "I ain't known ye long…but…I'd hate to see you…I mean, I wouldn't want ye to die for…that."

"Well…know what I'm going to do?"

"What?"

"I'm going to prove him wrong. Because I know that I'm right. You have to make damn sure you're in the right, and then stay that course and let the fools out there make asses out of themselves. You can't let people get to you that badly. Focus on doing your job, and doing it well. If it helps anything, I believe that you can, and that you'll make a fine officer one day. Just hang onto that for now. You'll get promoted, Ensign Freya Thorne. Then things will get better. Trust me."

That hit her on the heartstrings. He had just said the very words that she constantly told herself, that she wanted so badly to believe.

"Thank ye…sir." Freya finally said emotionally. "I jes'…I dunno if I'm in th' right or not sometimes. Kriff…sometimes I get so farkled up in me 'ead that I'm not sure if I'm doin' what I'm actu'ly doin'."

"Then it sounds like you need to find yourself…or let go of worrying about what people think of you…" Drakken sighed. "Look, I don't know anything about that inner-discovery emotional stuff. You hungry?"

"What?" Freya asked, confused. The question had come out of nowhere.

"I asked if you were hungry, Ensign." He repeated. "I don't know about you, but a hot meal always did me a lot of good." He stood up and straightened his uniform. Freya realized that she hadn't eaten anything all day, and felt her stomach growl.

"Yeah…I guess I am, sir."

"Then come on. Dry those tears up, and let's go to the mess hall and scavenge us some rats, huh?"

"But…it's after lunch. Mess is closed, isn't it?" Freya asked.

"Not for me." Tharcourt shrugged. "Because of my…particular occupation here, I'm not on what you call 'standard shipboard schedules'. I can go to mess whenever I want. Come on, ensign, I'll get you in." He reached out a hand to her, and smiled. "Don't worry, you won't get in trouble." Freya gave a small laugh. She took his hand, and allowed him to help her up. She sniffed, and wiped her eyes with her sleeves before straightening her tunic and belt.

"That's better." Drakken nodded, and straightened Freya's cap on her head, strands of her fiery hair poking out comically around the sides. "Looking like a great Imperial Navy officer once again."