"You blew up a million credits' worth of Imperial equipment, and failed to capture a single prisoner." Grand Moff Tarkin stated from the head of the conference room table. "That could have been accomplished by an orbital bombardment." Commander Tharcourt raised his eyebrows and huffed a sigh.

"We were told twenty rebels, sir." The commander returned, looking between the governor and Colonel Wulf Yularen. "Once the blaster opened, we were facing down maybe five times that number. We think we killed most of them though, either by small-arms fire or from that explosion."

"And a bright side to all of this." Yularen added. "It says in your report that you believe from what you saw, that the rebels could have been planning a major offensive, possibly originating from that very base?"

"Yes, sir." Tharcourt nodded. "They had decryption computers, nav computers, ship cloaking tech, and a cache of weapons and explosives large enough to arm a couple companies. I think they may have planned on outfitting a few ships with cloaking systems to infiltrate an Imperial vessel or installation with the purpose of attacking or sabotaging."

"And how do you know that?" Moff Tarkin asked curiously.

"It's exactly what I would do with that gear." Tharcourt answered. "I ran similar infiltration operations against the separatists when I was a kid." Tarkin gave him an impressed smirk.

"Well, at least you completely destroyed a dissident base, and likely eliminated rebel activity in that sector for a little while." Tarkin mused. "It's the small victories one must savor sometimes."

"I suppose, governor." The commander answered glumly. "But with all luck, I plan on being more successful the next time around."

"Glad you reminded me, commander." Colonel Yularen announced, in a tone that said that he had not forgotten at all. "There is a situation that may require your team's special skill set."

"Another mission so soon, sir?"

"It's a very simple matter. Just seizing and boarding a suspected rebel ship." The ISB director explained. Tharcourt let out a sigh.

"I'm listening, sir."

…

"Alright, gather 'round." Tharcourt announced. All of the members of Delta-7 retired from their well-earned rest and relaxation, and crowded around the table in the teams commons-room as the commander began his speech.

"We possibly stopped a rebel offensive last night." The commander began. "But that much aside, we could've easily been destroyed in detail. Once the assault started, it fell apart like cheap boots. We can say that we were surprised by enemy numbers, but that would just show bad planning on our part. Which is exactly what the problem was…and most of that is on me. I counted on maybe thirty to forty rebels. Not running into a garrison, which should have been planned for." He rapped his fist against the table a few times irritably. "That said…we were able to adapt to the situation, and we didn't lose a man. That proves the level of all of our skills and the validity of this team. Any other unit…they'd might as well have canceled Life Day."

"Sir, with your permission." Sergeant Daraay interjected. Tharcourt nodded in approval. "The situation could have been improved if we had been carrying more thermal detonators. Maybe even a rocket launcher or two. Our blasters could not penetrate the walls of the buildings the rebels were using for cover."

"Good point." The commander agreed. "Anyone else have any critiques of last night's mess?" Sergeant Felian spoke up.

"Yes sir. Our E-11's worked fine in close quarters. Under those conditions though…there were a lot of bolts fired that didn't hit anything but air at range. We were set up for CQ. We should have had more intermediate weaponry." The commander pondered for a moment.

"Sergeant…men, when I was fighting a guerilla campaign against the separatists back in the day, we didn't have much in the way of supply lines. We had to pack enough food and water for several days on our operations. That's what we were doing last night. Right now, we have the backing of the empire, and a ship at our disposal. The mission was supposed to last a few hours at most. We could have gone heavier on weaponry, and lighter on food. That's what we'll do from now on if practicable." There were nods of approval from around the room.

"Now, I hate to break it to you, but we've all been called up on our badly needed day off."

"You mean…" Ekks groaned.

"We have a new mission." Tharcourt stated. "This one is going to be a test for certain." He looked about the room. "How many of you have ever taken part in boarding operations? Show of hands." Daraay and Dall both raised a hand. "I thought so. The rest of you have a lot to brush up on in the next six hours. I commandeered a couple of vessels in the hanger to use for training. Get your gear and weapons. We have work to do. I'll brief you all on the way." The team organized and equipped themselves quickly, and set out down the hall toward the hanger. Commander Tharcourt began his short briefing as they walked.

"We have report that a freighter, an old stolen Alderranian vessel, is being used by rebel forces to transport weapons. This unit has been ordered to intercept that ship as it comes out of hyperdrive somewhere near the Gordian Reach, near the planets Maridum and Yavin."

"How do we know it's a rebel ship?" Felian asked.

"Where I wouldn't put much faith in the Empire's spy network after our last debacle…" The commander returned, "…what are the odds that a simple civilian freighter is going to be an old converted warship… and the fact that it's being escorted by two InCom Headhunters is a little suspicious. Not to mention it's made the same trip six times now."

"Can we take on a pair of snub fighters?" Ekks asked. "They're faster and more maneuverable than our shuttle, even with me flying…sir."

"That's why we have backup this time." Tharcourt answered. They entered the large hanger to find a squad of six TIE fighters sitting where they had not been the day before. The leader of the squadron stepped forward as Tharcourt approached and removed her helmet. The fighter wing officer was a black-haired young woman with tan skin and the look of barely-restrained ferocity shone in her dark eyes.

"Lieutenant Iden Versio." She greeted.

"Commander Drakken Tharcourt." The commander returned, and held out a hand. The two officers shook cordially. "I hear you're one of the best."

"If I can help it." The black-haired woman answered with a smile. "I hear your team needs some cover."

"Think you can take out two snub fighters?" Tharcourt queried.

"Two?" Versio asked, sounding confused. "You need my entire wing for two fighters?"

"Well, they're Headhunters…and this is a sensitive mission." The commander returned.

"Headhunters?" The lieutenant shot. "And those old rustbuckets are still space-worthy?"

"Enough to probably give us a headache." Tharcourt shrugged. "Glad to have you with us. But how are you getting those fighters to the battlespace without Hyperdrive?" Lieutenant Versio gave a cocky smile.

"Notice the shape of the wings, commander." She stated. "Those are new, experimental TIE Advanced X-1's. They come standard with hyperdrive…and shields. Your rebels won't expect that."

"Indeed not. You come well prepared, lieutenant." Tharcourt commented.

"Better than you know, Commander Tharcourt. Special wings for a special unit. You're not the only up-and-coming multipurpose subterfuge outfit in the Empire." Versio offered.

"Well alright then." The commander spoke. "I don't have to do much explaining. Soon as we make contact, you engage the fighters, and we'll take care of the freighter. Don't really need to strategize it more than that, I suppose." The TIE pilot commander cocked her eyebrows and shrugged.

"I always did like a man of action, not words." Versio stated wryly.

"And I, a lieutenant who actually knew what they were doing." He replied with a grin. "I have to run these troopers through boarding drills. We leave in under six hours." Versio threw up a salute.

"We're ready when you need us." She stated. He returned the gesture.

The next five hours were spent mainly on two very different small cargo vessels in the hanger bay. Tharcourt had his team make entry into the ships time and again, practicing their ability to break into two groups once inside, and move down the corridors with determination. He used the phrases 'dominate the battle-space' and 'keep the initiative' a great deal. Tharcourt explained that when dealing with enemy forces in confined spaces, a unit, even a smaller one can have the advantage if they keep pushing. Lay down fire, clear areas, make a lot of noise and move, all without stopping. This would keep the enemy rattled, and as long as your team could maintain communication and every member kept pressing toward the objective, the enemy would lose the ability and cohesion to resist.

After two hours, the team was beginning to perfect quick entries into ships, and move quickly and violently through them, clearing rooms and halls as they went without 'stopping to admire the scenery' as the commander put it. After another hour, he had them load up into one of the vessels, a Gozanti. With Ekks piloting, they left The Accuser for yet another ship, a larger frigate floating nearby. Piett had cleared the exercise, and had the captain of the frigate and his men play the rebels, while Tharcourt's unit would portray themselves, albeit with unloaded blasters. They docked with the ship, and the team burst through the airlock as soon as it had opened, and began taking the vessel. It was almost laughable the first time, but by the fifth they had the procedure fairly well perfected.

Returning to the star destroyer, he explained that they would be taking the larger cargo ship on this mission, as it had a docking port, unlike The Huntsman. The cargo ship would also look less threatening at first-glance, allowing them to get closer to the enemy freighter than they would be able to in an official-looking Imperial shuttle with blaster cannons sticking out everywhere. They would radio that their nav-computer was down to get in close. Then Versio's wing would streak in and engage the rebel fighters, while Delta-7 would dock with the suspect ship before they had time to fight back or jump.

The flight to the coordinates given by the ISB took less than an hour. As planned, the cargo ship containing the strike team came out of hyperdrive first, and drifted aimlessly past the planet Maridum. The TIE fighters exited hyperdrive and held back, staying well out of range of passive sensors. Tharcourt was seated in the copilot chair, helping Ekks to scan for the target ship. After a few minutes, it appeared. First on their ship's scanners, then to the two men in the cockpit.

"Ready, trooper?" The commander muttered.

"As I'll ever be, sir." The rogue-turned-stormtrooper answered.

"Alright. Here goes nothing." Tharcourt commented. He pressed a button on the console in front of him. "Attention vessel…attention vessel…this is Imperial transport TLZ-6559. We need assistance…repeat, we are in need of assistance, over." There were a few seconds of tense silence.

"What is your emergency, vessel?" A lackluster voice finally answered. Commander Tharcourt let out his breath and pushed the button again.

"We hit some kind of…electromagnetic anomaly…likely a starburst. We've lost our hyperdrive, long-range comms and nav computer. Can you dock and assist with repairs?"

"Negative, Imperial transport." The voice returned. "We have ah…unstable cargo and ah…are on a tight schedule. Sorry."

"I understand, captain." Tharcourt bluffed. "Would it be alright if we pulled alongside, and you could send us manual directions to the nearest repair station? We would appreciate any help you could give. We're um…we're kind of in a bind out here." He heard the captain of the other vessel sigh over the comms system.

"Uh…roger and standby. There is a small station nearby. I will work up directions and send them over holo. Pull alongside, stricken vessel." Tharcourt nodded to Ekks, and the trooper deftly steered the ship alongside the rebel vessel, one of the fighters in the escort having to break formation to allow the clandestine freighter to shadow their ward.

"Now…make sure you get us nice and close to that docking port, Ekks…" Tharcourt advised.

"On it." The Corellian stormtrooper answered. Tharcourt stood and entered the bay, where the rest of the team was already loading their weapons and making ready to board the enemy ship.

"A couple minutes, and we make entry." The commander stated.

Aboard the rebel freighter, Disen Korlo sat at the flight controls. The executive officer of the ship, Korlo had been tasked with getting the freighter to the secret rebel base on Yavin 4. Now so close to their destination, and he had hit a snag. Not a dangerous one, but a snag nonetheless. Of all the ships to break down out here, it would have to be an Imperial one. He throttled back the power to the freighter's sublight engine, reducing the vessel to just above docking speed.

"Nena, you get the course to that repair station calculated yet?" He asked, turning to the young female Twi'lek navigator. "I want to get rid of these Imps as soon as I can. It's nerve-wracking, them being this close."

"Yeah, just a few seconds more." Nena Triecello answered, pressing the screen in front of her. "And it's just some cargo ship. Probably carrying rations or something. If we weren't in a hurry to get to Yavin, I'd honestly think about boarding them. We have the manpower." The blue-skinned girl offered. She was referring to the eight rebel soldiers in the cargo bay of the transport, both guarding the cache of weapons and hitching a ride to the moon where the rebel alliance was slowly gathering its forces. "And…done." She stated. Korlo hit the switch on his ship's comms panel.

"Stricken vessel, prepare to receive directions." He said.

"Thank you very much." A voice came back. It wasn't the same pilot as before. Probably the co-pilot, Korlo guessed. These smaller Imp cargo ships usually had a crew of two or three. If they were carrying supplies, it was a tempting idea…

"Enemy fighters approaching!" Nena called. "Holy frickle, there's six of them, on our two!"

"Enemy fighters coming in." The pilot of the lead Headhunter radioed in a moment later. "Break and run. We'll hold them off."

"Copy." Korlo replied. Some quick and easy run this had been. There was a beeping from the control panel, and the rebel pilot checked his instruments.

"Aw kriff…not good…" He muttered. "That Imperial freighter just docked with us!"

"I'll set coordinates, get ready to hit the hyperdrive!" The Twi'lek navigator cried.

"We won't make it, they're using reverse thrusters. I can't…" He jerked the stick. "…stay on course." He flipped a switch on the panel, and in the cargo hold, a red light began to flash. The team of rebels there froze, wondering what was happening. They soon understood.

"We're being boarded. Get to the port-side docking port!" Korlo yelled over the ship's speakers. The rebels began arming themselves to defend their precious cargo. In the cockpit, things weren't getting any better.

"I can't shake him…I can't…arrggghhhh!" A transmission blared from one of the Headhunters' pilots.

"I've never seen a TIE like that!" The other pilot shouted. "How are they so fast?! What?!" Korlo and Nena watched as the Imperial fighters opened fire on the last of their escort craft, the Headhunter becoming a ball of flame and debris.

"Should we make for the escape pods?" Triecello offered, a tinge of fear in the navigator's voice.

"We…we can't abandon the shipment!" Korlo returned. "The alliance needs those blasters…I don't…how did they know where we were?!"

Four of the rebel soldiers made it to the docking port, just in time to hear a sharp 'clang'. Two stood on either side, ready to give what was likely a couple of Imp crewmen a warm welcome. The door flew open, and instantly, two round objects came rolling in through the hatch. Before the rebels could react, there was a blinding flash, and one of them dropped his blaster and covered his ears from the terrific concussion of the stun grenades. The last thing any of them saw were blaster bolts ripping toward them as imperial soldiers rushed into the wide corridor, splitting into two groups, one moving forward, the other aft.

Two rebels had just made it out the cargo bay, when they froze. A towering, black-clad death trooper was moving toward them, two scout troopers and an Imperial Army sniper behind it in formation. They attempted to raise their weapons, but were cut down almost instantly. One, barely alive, made a futile attempt to reach for his blaster pistol. One of the scout troopers simply fired into his head at point-blank-range as he walked by.

"What's going on back there?!" Korlo shouted into the comms speaker. "Is anyone there?!" He watched the wing of TIE fighters arc by his cockpit window again in formation. They seemed to be putting on some odd show, pivoting, turning and diving in unison, only to soar back upward in a line, almost like birds on the wing. The pilot looked back to see his navigator on the floor, her knees up to her shoulders, back against the bulkhead. She was clutching a small blaster pistol in her right hand, and her eyes were wide and filled with terror.

"They've taken the ship…" She gasped. "They've taken the ship, Korlo! We're done!" The pilot felt himself sweating, even in the chilly cockpit of the ship. With a trembling hand, he reached for a blaster pistol underneath the control panel. Suddenly, the door to the cockpit slid open, and he immediately felt the barrel of a weapon pressed into the back of his head. He heard his navigator whimper.

"You are captured, sir. Don't make any sudden moves, and you live." A voice said calmly. "Get up." Korlo nodded, and stood from his seat, his hands raised. He found himself facing an Imperial officer. Mustachioed and dark-eyed, the officer had a look of boredom more than anything, Korlo thought. He looked over to see Nena being dragged to her feet by a stormtrooper.

"Nena." Korlo called. The young Twi'lek woman looked to him. "Remember…never say anything." She nodded.

"I would highly advise that you do." The Imperial officer counseled. The two captured rebels shot hateful glances at the man. "I would rather you insurgents come clean and return to the fold than to see what might happen to you if you keep up this charade of playing guerrilla against the Empire." He didn't seem that condescending, the prisoners imagined. Rather, he seemed very sincere as he spoke. "You have to know that you people are not going to succeed with your fight. We knew you were carrying stolen weapons, and knew you were associated with terrorist forces. We even knew when you left port." He looked between them. "All we need to know is where you were taking the blasters. Speak now, and you won't have to go through interrogation when we get back."

"What makes you think we're going to lose?" Korlo returned bitterly. "This was just one shipment. One of a bunch that's been able to arm thousands of fighters. You got us, but you ain't got all of us. Not yet."

"Well…" The officer sighed. "Anything to add, young lady?" He asked, looking at Nena.

"No. Nothing." She said in a low voice. "You know what the Empire has done. To my planet. To everyone's. I did what I could to fight you. Now, I'm probably going to die. But you know what won't die? Hope. You'll never kill that." The commander sighed.

"Take them to the ship." He ordered tiredly. Commander Tharcourt couldn't understand these insurgents. He remembered back to when he was a young man, fighting against the occupation of his homeworld. That had been a fight for something. What were these rebels fighting for? Against? Why were they so fanatical about resisting a government that to his eyes, had brought jobs and credits to poor, war-torn worlds? Why fight a force that had united a galaxy of warring systems and chaotic settlements under the banner of safety and stability? Sure, the Empire had its faults, but didn't all governments everywhere? These people seemed hell-bent on restoring a government that had proven itself to be corrupt, ineffective, and had collapsed under the weight of its own incompetence and immorality.

What had the young Twi'lek woman said? Hope. You'll never kill that. What hope? What were they wanting so badly that they were willing to face death to get it? He was reminded of those monks he'd heard about once. They were so enthralled with their bizarre beliefs, that they actually had their brains removed and put into spider droids. They chose to spend generations locked inside a never-ending prison of agony and solitude because somebody had told them that it was some path to enlightenment. What a waste. That's why Tharcourt had always chosen to stay far away from the idea of religion, and out of political discussion. Both always seemed to attract the zealots and cultists.

Commander Tharcourt returned to his ship, and watched as his men secured the prisoners. In addition to the two pilots his team had captured, he noted that Daraay's contingent had captured one of the rebel fighters that had been aboard the ship. He nodded approvingly. The mission had gone well this time. The commander stepped into the cockpit. He dropped into the pilot's chair and removed his helmet. Flipping on the long-range comms and dialing in the proper encrypted channel, he cleared his throat as he contacted his superiors.

"Delta-Seven-Actual to Section-White-Four. We have the package. Complete." He waited for an answer.

"Copy, Delta-Seven-Actual. Your orders are now to rig package for surprise action supernova. Repeat. Set bait and RTB." He understood those orders perfectly. He was to boobytrap the rebel ship to blow whenever someone attempted to make entry. To not only deny the enemy their weapons, but to use them and the deserted ship to kill even more of the enemy. This came at a price though, and Tharcourt weighed the decision heavily. What if it were not rebels who happened upon the freighter? What if it were pirates or scrappers? What if a crew of innocent merchants decided to board the vessel to find out why nobody was answering their hailing calls? Something about this operation didn't sit right with him.

"Are you certain of that last communication, Section-White-Four?" He asked back. "Who issued that order?"

"The order came from the top." The voice returned. "Execute surprise action supernova and RTB, Delta-Seven-Actual." Tharcourt tapped the toe of his boot on the metal deck a few times. He scoffed.

"Understood. Delta-Seven-Actual out." Tharcourt hesitated for a moment, then stood and returned to the cargo bay. "Sergeant Daraay, Corporal Coleth…" The two troopers hurried over. "You two are my demo experts. I need you to um…to rig that rebel ship. Someone enters the cargo bay or the cockpit…it needs to be effective." He almost expected them to voice some protest over the operation, maybe to affirm what he had felt.

"Understood." Daraay stated, and the scout trooper nodded.

"Rigging the ship, sir?" He heard Ekks question from behind him.

"Yes." Tharcourt Answered grimly. "We have our orders." He watched his two demolition specialists carry several bags of explosives into the rebel ship. After a few minutes, Coleth stuck his head back through the open docking hatch.

"Um…we're rigging the hatches now, so…nobody come through this door." He advised, then disappeared back into the ship. A few more minutes passed, and the two troopers reentered the ship, Daraay hitting the control button by the hatch, closing the connection between the two vessels.

"Charges set, sir." The death trooper reported.

"Yes, the moment the rebels open the cargo bay doors…" Coleth added, "…the whole ship goes up, along with any other ships connected to it at the time."

"And if customs or some Samaritan comes along and opens it?" Tharcourt pressed.

"Sir?" Coleth asked back.

"N…Nothing, corporal…" The commander replied. "…good work. We're heading back. Ekks, detatch and get us back to The Accuser. Tell Lieutenant Versio that she and her squadron are free to go."

"On it." Ekks called, and made his way to the cockpit. A minute later, they all felt the vibration of the two ships detaching, and the gentle push of the sublight thrusters engaging.

"Everybody…get some rest. We'll be home in an hour." The commander spoke. Drakken had a great deal on his mind. Unanswered questions he had no way of resolving by himself. He stepped back into the smaller room behind the bay, where the three prisoners were held in an ad-hoc cell made up of a bunk room, where they were cuffed and lashed to the bedframe. He opened the door and stepped in. The three captured rebels glowered at him.

"What do you want, Imp?" The rebel soldier shot. Tharcourt ignored him, and focused on the Twi'lek woman.

"You…" He began. "…what did you mean back on the ship?"

"What are you talking about?" Nena asked somberly, seemingly resigned to her fate.

"When you said we can't kill hope." The commander reminded. "I wanted to know what you meant."

"We don't have to tell you anything." Korlo stated. Tharcourt looked between them.

"No. You don't." He agreed. "You don't have to say a word. You could…and most likely will go to your deaths without saying anything. I know that." He paused a few moments. "I just…I really want to understand what you rebels think you're fighting for." Korlo sighed and dropped his head. Nena on the other hand, never stopped looking at the officer.

"You know." She said softly. "You have to know what we're fighting for. You helped create this galaxy we have to live in…"

"This galaxy?" Tharcourt queried. "The galaxy is at peace. The Empire has brought riches, order, jobs…"

"At what cost?" The Twi'lek shot back. "How many worlds are under the subjugation of your Empire? How many people are locked up in Imperial prisons?"

"Only the ones who revolt…the ones who want crime and chaos…" Tharcourt explained. "What would you people have us do? Go back to having entire systems waging war on others? Outer Rim worlds at the mercy of damned pirates? Millions dying every day?"

"It might be better than…than poverty and fear caused by your great Empire!" She argued. "Living as slaves and bowing, hoping that you make the soldiers happy so they don't arrest you." She narrowed her yellow eyes. "And the hope of freedom is worth death. Not that you'd understand."

"No, I just fought in the clone wars, when the droid armies overran my entire planet!" Tharcourt replied angrily. "I spent my childhood watching my world devastated, watching clones and my own people die. Fighting droids that fought because they were told to, so don't proceed to lecture me on fighting for something important, girl!" He scoffed. "I wasn't fighting against some government that might dock my wages for complaining, or throw me in prison for blowing up their factory. I was fighting against an enemy that would kriffing kill me for being out past bedtime!"

"You don't…"

"I saw people I loved dying, and I saw it until it became a fact of life. And where was this republic you love so much? So full of corrupt senators and those useless jedi priests that they didn't care to leave my world to the Separatists and let us suffer! That's the galaxy you think you want? The bloated corpse you want to bring back? Most of you rebels were barely born when the war was on! You're children…playing army!" He turned and started to leave the room.

"I'm sorry about your world." Nena whispered. Tharcourt froze. He didn't turn back to the prisoner. "I know…what it's like. That's…that's why I had to fight."

"Damn you." Commander Tharcourt hissed, and left the room. He trudged back into the cargo bay, and gracelessly plopped down on one of the benches, between Walker and Daraay. He felt spent from the last three days, and from his exchange with the prisoner. The stormtrooper took off his helmet, his wavy brown hair matted with sweat, and looked at his commander a moment.

"Everything alright, sir?" Walker asked.

"Hm? Oh…yes. I'm fine." Tharcourt lied. He looked down to see a small holoprojector in the hands of the trooper, the image of a young woman with twin braids of yellow hair smiling. Walker noticed the commander staring at the picture.

"My girlfriend, sir." He said with a slight smile. "We're going to get married. Dunno when. I keep putting it off like an idiot."

"Don't." Tharcourt muttered, leaning back against the bulkhead and staring at the grey-white ceiling of the ship. "Biggest mistake you'll make."

"Never um…pictured you for the romantic type, commander." Walker bantered.

"Maybe once upon a time…" Tharcourt muttered. He rolled his eyes down to the trooper. "Back in the day."

"Never know sir." Walker retorted. "You might find someone one of these days."

"She'd probably have to be a heavy gunner." Mets joined in. "That way she couldn't hear the commander's lectures." Nearly everyone either chuckled or outright laughed. They managed a small grin out of Tharcourt.

"I dunno. I was with this girl once…" Gallen began. "She'd have been a perfect match for Commander Tharcourt." He ran a gloved hand through his messy mop of shaggy brown hair. "Prettiest purple and green hair you ever saw, guys." A few chuckles. "More curves than the Kaliida Nebula…" He leaned forward, his green eyes widening. "…even in places I never saw 'em before." More laughter. "I could outshoot her, you know…because…" He pretended to breathe on his fingers and wipe them on his coat. "But I couldn't keep up on the shooting range with a gal who could fire four blasters at once!" The room erupted. "Heck. She might be able to outgun the commander himself."

"Doubtful." Felian stated. "The commander can shoot a man before he even sees the old man draw his blaster.

"Oh come on. I'm not that fast." Tharcourt groaned. "And no, I have no intentions of seeking out a lady at present. Not particularly interested. Not in a deaf gunner's mate, and certainly not Gallen's foray into inter-species experimentation." That got a round of laughter and a bit of handclapping.

"What's her name?" Tharcourt asked when the applause died down.

"Zacona, sir." Walker answered. Tharcourt nodded, and gave the stormtrooper a pat on the back. Meanwhile, Coleth had decided to keep the conversation going.

"You have a guy, Sergeant Daraay?" He asked. The death trooper was silent for a moment.

"No." She simply answered.

"Oh." The scout trooper mused. "Ever?"

"No." She stated again. The helmet moved a little to the side.

"Daraay?" Tharcourt asked curiously. The helmet moved forward again.

"When I was young." She spoke. "Before I joined." More silence. "Then I joined."

"Sounds…spicy." Gallen commented sarcastically. "You not allowed to date or something? Like…death trooper rules?"

"We can date." Daraay answered. "It's not encouraged, but we can if we wish. As long as it doesn't interfere with our duty." She thought for a second. "And we can never divulge anything about our past before death trooper corps. Or where we're stationed. Or if we are killed. It has resulted in many failed relationships."

"I can…see that." Tharcourt muttered. He offered a friendly grip on the death trooper's shoulder. "Well, if you ever want to see someone, you have my blessing." Daraay turned her head toward him and didn't speak for the longest time.

"Thank you, sir." She said finally. Everyone sat in silence for a while, now lost in their own thoughts, until Lago broke the silence. He pulled off his helmet and wiped at his burr of auburn hair.

"Ugh. Well, I don't know about you guys, but the first thing I'm gonna do when we get back…is take a shower. Then hit the rack.

"Same here." Felian confessed.

"Got that right." Dall Agreed. Mets shook his head tiredly.

"Not me." Gallen stated. "Sleep first, then shower."

"You smell like a bantha's ass." Coleth contended.

"Yeah, but I'm a sniper." Reeso Gallen shot back. "I'm used to stinking and eating garbage. Sleep is my prerogative.

Tharcourt shook his head and leaned back against the wall again. He closed his eyes. A successful mission. A team that got along well, not just professionally, but casually when they were off-the-clock. He could trust them; he had begun to comprehend that. He could trust every member of his team to act without him having to watch over them. He could trust them to do right by him. And now, it actually felt like they trusted him too. Contentment. That's what this was, he realized. But this day was marred somehow. Sullied and imperfect.

His orders to rig the rebel ship to blow. Drakken couldn't understand why that was bothering him so much. Yes, it was a little thoughtless, to just let a ship like that drift around like an opportunistic floating bomb. It would likely fall back into rebel hands though, he imagined. That would be the probable end. They would recapture the abandoned ship, and it would claim a dozen more rebel lives, give or take. Probably make them wary of boarding any ships in the future…maybe even scare their blaster-running operations into going to ground for a while. He rationalized it as a necessary evil, a gamble with potential payouts outweighing the possible collateral damage. Then he tried to stop thinking about it.

Then there was the prisoner. That young Twi'lek girl. He could not grasp her thought process, and he had allowed her to get under his skin. Why? She had brought up his homeworld. Made him remember. No, that wasn't it. Drakken Tharcourt had moved beyond that stuff years ago, right? His mind began to read her as the antithesis to everything he believed in. Did all rebels think that way? That the galaxy would be better off in chaos and war than under the protective glove of the Empire? He inwardly sighed. So that all worlds could end up like his. So, it had come back to that.

'You really let her get to you, didn't you?' His psyche beamed. 'You let a filthy rebel smuggler make you second-guess yourself…after all those years of hard work.' He shut that down quickly. Whatever hope these rebels had for their anarchistic utopia were going to be crushed. Killed. It was the only way. And Drakken Tharcourt knew that he was one of the only few officers who knew the only way to do it.

And another successful mission for the brave troopers of Delta-7. What did everyone think? This one was a bit longer than the previous chapters, and many upcoming ones will be, now that the story has progressed beyond the opening arc. A little insight into Tharcourt there too. Perhaps he has more going on inside than he lets on, hm? And what could be going on with Thorne right now? Expect another chapter of this riveting tale soon. Until then loyal readers, keep it locked in here. Till next time, Cheerio! -Drake