Commander Drakken Tharcourt was exhausted. Not just physically, though he felt like passing out on his feet as he entered his office. He felt drained mentally too. He fell into his desk chair and let his head fall back, staring blankly at the ceiling. General Veers had congratulated him on a job well done, and Vader had noted his 'adequate job at having destroyed the rebels in their base and capturing information that should aid us in…' He blew his breath out in a long sigh. To him, the mission wasn't a crowning victory at all. It wasn't a sporting match against a deadly foe, and all he felt he had accomplished was to become some wild animal in the heat of it.

Tharcourt mentally damned the rebels for pushing him into such an unthinking rage, and himself for allowing them to. He had personally murdered two wounded and captured rebels, and instead of being punished by his superiors, he was being lauded for it. They had destroyed the DS-1. It was only natural to want revenge, right? Revenge was an emotional response, not a strategy. At what point did getting retribution on the enemy make one worse than their foe? He ran a hand through his hair, knocking his cap onto the desk. What would Freya think of him? Speaking of which…

He checked the time. It was 0800 ship-time. She would be getting up for work right about now. Drakken remembered the promise he had made to her, to let her know when he had gotten in safely. It seemed like such a trifling thing. The girl was actually worried about him. He scoffed. Of course she was. He was her only friend that he could tell. And she was his friend, after all. He pressed the button on his desk and waited for a reply.

"Communications." The voice on the other end answered.

"Commander Tharcourt." He stated. "Can you get me Ensign Freya Thorne's quarters, please."

"One moment." There was a beep, and a short silence.

"Hello…" A familiar voice greeted curiously. "Ensign Thorne."

"Thorne…it's Tharcourt." He said, almost giving his first name out of familiarity. "I told you I'd let you know when I got back."

"Oh thank the powers." She sighed. "I was startin' t' be concerned. How did it go?"

"It uh…went." He returned.

"Drakken?" She pressed, sounding a little anxious.

"No, we're alright…all of us." He explained. "Just a rough mission is all. I could sleep for a week."

"Well, you do that." She advised. "Ye get you some rest. Plan on me knockin' ye up outta bed when I get off work though." He smiled.

"It's a deal." He said. "I'll let you get ready for work, my friend."

"Ugh. Why'd ye have to bring that up?" She groused. "An' I was havin' an alright mornin' so far."

"Hang in there, Thorne." Tharcourt said encouragingly. "You know the score." He added, not wanting to say too much. They both knew all of these calls were recorded and could be monitored.

"I do." She answered back. "I'll be alright."

"Good. I'm going to turn in now." Tharcourt yawned. "Try and have a good day, Thorne."

"I will." She said. "I'll see you later, commander. Thanks for callin'." The connection beeped. Tharcourt just shook his head.

"That girl…" He muttered. He stood and left the office, finding Daraay alone in the commons room. She had her helmet off, and was busy cleaning her blaster. She looked up as her commander entered the room.

"Sir." She greeted.

"Daraay." He nodded. "Thought you'd be getting some rest."

"Soon as I get my weapons and gear clean, sir." She answered. "Blaster always comes first."

"Of course." Tharcourt said tiredly. He sat on the padded bench in the room. "What do you think about our last mission, sergeant?"

"I don't know how to answer that, sir." She stated. "It seems that it was a successful attack on the enemy base. We suffered no casualties. I would say that it was a good mission. Why?"

"Don't know." He answered. "I just feel like we killed a group of rebels, and took a mostly deserted base, but didn't really accomplish that much. Strategically, I mean."

"The data we recovered could lead to the enemy fleet." The death trooper offered.

"Maybe." He thought. "What are the odds that they still had all of that information on their computers though…"

"Either way, it's out of your hands now, commander." Daraay said. "ISB will recover what they can."

"Yeah." Tharcourt muttered. He rubbed his face.

"Anything else, sir?"

"Um…yeah, can you do me a favor?"

"Favor or order, sir?" Daraay returned.

"Little bit of both." Tharcourt shrugged.

"Of course."

"The next time I go to kill an unarmed and captured enemy soldier like that…I want you to stop me…or at least question if it is necessary." Daraay was silent a few moments.

"First time I ever saw you do that, sir." She finally spoke. "Out of character for you."

"I know."

"I will make sure it's necessary, commander." Daraay nodded.

"Thank you, sergeant. Hard to be a leader if I let myself devolve into some wild beast." He saw the death trooper looking at him inquisitively. "Good soldiers do what they must to win and survive. Anything more is just…" He found the word in remembering that pompous officer during the briefing on Yavin 4. "Gratutitous. And I am not a gratuitous person. Or a wicked one when I can help it."

"I always saw you as efficient." Daraay commented. He cocked up an eyebrow. "Efficient and levelheaded. Two things you don't see together much in officers, if I can speak freely."

"You may as always."

"Then I will tell you something sir. Just before you, I was assigned to another officer. He was very much unlike you. I served dutifully, and never questioned my orders. Not even when I and the rest of the squad accompanied the officer to the home of a propulsion scientist. He was suspected of divulging Imperial secrets to rebel sympathizers. The scientist and his family lived on a civilized world, in an apartment building. When we went in, my officer gave orders to kill anyone who stood in our way."

"I see where this is going…" Tharcourt grumbled.

"He…the scientist, denied selling secrets. The officer wouldn't hear of it. We rounded up his family…his wife and both of his children. Then sir, we executed them. The wife first, then the children, one at a time, forcing the man to watch. The officer killed the target himself. Then we left. The officer was promoted, and a few weeks later, I was reassigned to you."

Tharcourt stared at the death trooper, trying to keep from feeling sick. Of course, he knew this sort of thing happened, but to hear it from the source was sobering. Killing people like that was wrong, even if it was lawful. It was wrong, and it was as pointless as it was grotesque. And Daraay had taken part in these kinds of death squad tactics. It made it all seem too real and too close.

"I wish you hadn't told me that…" He groaned.

"Why, sir?" She asked. "I told you so you could compare yourself to officers like that." She paused. "He was…inefficient, if you asked my opinion of him." Tharcourt paused. Daraay had in an odd way, given him a compliment, and in a round-about way was giving him advice. It felt odd getting guidance from a death trooper, but at this point in his life, he determined that it wasn't that strange after all.

"I never want to become that sort of officer." He finally said. "Think I'd rather be shot."

"Honor and duty." Daraay stated.

"Exactly." Tharcourt said. He yawned loudly. "I'm going to turn in, Sergeant. You do the same."

"Yes sir." The death trooper returned. "When do you want me to get started on that intel gathering mission?"

"Huh? Oh that…" Drakken answered. "I would like to get started ASAP?"

"Will do, sir. I will begin after my rest. Mark me down as unavailable for guard detail the rest of the day. I should have you some information by tonight."

"Wh…really?" The commander asked, surprised.

"I am quite good at my job, commander. I also have the highest of security clearance. I can at least get a dossier on the target started by this night."

"Okay. Well…" He contemplated. "That's impressive. Thank you, sergeant."

"No need to thank me, sir." She said back with a small smile. "I enjoy my job." Tharcourt stood and started toward his private room. He stopped and turned back to Daraay.

"Have you always?" He asked.

"Enjoy is present tense, commander."

He awoke sometime in the evening to the buzzing of his room's door. Drakken climbed out of his small bed, and cleared his throat. He pulled on his boots, and haphazardly threw on his tunic over his issue black short-sleeved shirt without even buttoning it up. He walked to the door and pressed the open button. The hatch whooshed open to reveal Ensign Thorne standing before him, wearing her uniform with the short gray skirt, and a pair of knee-high sandals. Although somewhat irritated at having been woken up, he almost chuckled at the young ensign, standing eagerly at the door, her arms folded behind her, almost balanced on the balls of her feet. She looked for all the world like some child waiting at the door for a friend to come outside and play.

"Morning, ensign." Tharcourt grumbled, and cleared his throat again.

"Morning sir…or evenin' now I s'pose." She returned. "Told ye' I'd be comin' for a visit. How are you?"

"Dunno yet. It's too early." Drakken replied. He walked down the short hall leading to the commons room with Thorne in tow. They entered the room, joining Coleth and Lago who were already lounging about.

"Morning sir." The two troopers called.

"Morning boys." Tharcourt returned groggily. "Got caf?"

"Yessir." Coleth stated. "Want me to…"

"I can get it." Freya interjected. She tensed a little. "If you'd like, sir." Tharcourt nodded. She was trying to impress him…or was that her just trying hard to be friendly and helpful? He watched her pour a cup of the dark liquid and bring it over.

"A lovely cup a' wake-up juice, commander." She quipped. Coleth snickered, but fell silent when Tharcourt cast him an unamused glance. He took the caf and downed a large gulp of it.

"Thank you, Thorne." He stated. "How was your day?"

"I think I got off easy." She sighed. "I cleaned the refresher, and only got threatened twice."

"Ouch." Drakken commented.

"Yeah, I think I'd be safer in battle." She grumbled. Tharcourt took another drink of the caf and motioned toward his office. Freya followed, and the commander sat at his desk. He drank more of his beverage and sighed.

"I don't think you would have wanted to be on the last mission…" He said in a low voice.

"Ye sounded doon about it earlier." She said, sitting in front of the desk. "It was pretty boned, eh?"

"Bone?"

"Boned…ya know, ballacks, naff." Freya explained. "Ser'osly not good."

"Yeah…" Tharcourt answered. "It was boned, Thorne."

"Ye wanna talk about it?" She asked in a concerned tone.

"Fraid to…" He mumbled.

"Why?"

"Strange as it sounds…don't want you to hate me, I guess."

"I could never." Freya returned, leaning over the desk, her green eyes showing her worry.

"I killed a couple rebels that I didn't have to." Tharcourt admitted.

"Wha…what do you mean ye didn't have to?"

"Unarmed…already captured technically. I um…" He looked away. "I executed them for no good reason, Thorne. I've been thinking a lot about it. Guess I was just…"

"You done got carried away in yer anger, didn't you?" She pressed. She gave him the look of a mother who just caught her child stealing cookies. "I know why ye did it. They killed so many people…think I kinda wanted blood too. Ye just get all balled up and made a right bags of it."

"I shouldn't have done it."

"No, you prolly shouldn't a'." Freya agreed. "But at least ye know when ye've mucked up. Means as ye won't do it again."

"Yeah."

"Ye get in trouble fer it?" She asked.

"No. I think they believe I'm a hero for killing unarmed people." Tharcourt groused. "And the Empire has a bad habit of that."

"I know." Thorne said softly. "I never understood that."

"Leave it to sentients to take a good concept and find a way to corrupt it."

"What do you mean?" She asked curiously. He thought about the story Daraay had told him. Then his mind turned to Lord Vader. Why would the Empire have need of such an evil and deadly being? Then again, Tarkin had been made essentially the top military man in the entire government.

"Government, Thorne." He sighed. "The republic fell for a damned good reason. Hate to see the Empire fall into the same trap. Corruption and brutality isn't something you can just turn off once the switch is flipped."

"Ye know that's kind of rebellious t' talk like that." Thorne cautioned. "Not that I'm arguin' with you. Seein and hearin' what Raliss does to her prisoners…she bloody threatened to cut me 'air off once. An' she's a good officer, ya' know."

"So is Firmus Piett, the captain of this ship." Drakken stated. "And I mean that truthfully. Known him for years. He was always a good man. He's gotten a little stuffy and political lately though." He sighed again. "I guess it doesn't matter if we have a republic, an empire or a damned confederation. It's all politics and threats that make the galaxy turn. It's games and...flexing." Freya was genuinely surprised to hear Drakken speak that way. She'd always assumed that he was a staunch imperialist. Now it made sense why he seemed so unconventional; something in him dared to question things, to think outside of the training and the discipline. She felt drawn to him even more, a sensation that made her feel implicit in something a little dangerous but appealing.

"Yer a dangerous man, Drakken Tharcourt." She said flatly. "But a good one. As long as ye' watch what yer fighting about." Tharcourt gave a small smile.

"I try." He drained the last of the caf in his cup. "At least I try to fight for the things that matter." He sat the cup down and cleared his throat. "So, I've started working on your problem. Hopefully I'll know something tonight."

"Oh, yer actin' the maggot now. You can't do it in one day." Thorne retorted.

"No, I won't get it all done, just expecting some information to come my way." Drakken explained. "It's a start at least." He raised an eyebrow. "Still not telling you what I'm doing." Thorne held up her hands defensively.

"Don't think I want to know." She stated. "I saw yer death trooper up on me level before I came down. I'm a lil' shook t' e'en think about it."

"Don't be." Drakken replied. "I'm not bold enough to do something completely outrageous aboard an Imperial vessel. Just have patience, Freya. And faith." She opened her mouth, but decided against saying it. It was there in her mind though. If I have faith in anything, it's you, sir. It seemed so inappropriate.

"I do." She whispered instead.

"Good." He nodded. "I'm hungry."

"Wha…oh nevermind." Freya exhaled. It was expected now. It seemed that every deep conversation the two had was punctuated by a meal. Not that she would complain. She'd missed lunch again today. Tharcourt stood and started fastening the closure on the front panel of his tunic. He as always fumbled a bit with the small hooks at the neck until Freya, trying to be helpful, stood and took the strip of fabric in her fingers and deftly clipped it into place. He had frozen for a moment as she worked on his collar. Something about the whole thing seemed so inappropriately intimate. He caught the smell of her perfume; jesmin flower and terginni musk, an odd mixture of feminine and masculine that somehow suited the young woman. They caught each-others' eyes for a moment when she had finished, and she too seemed rooted in place for a few moments, her mouth slightly agape.

"S…sorry, commander." She finally whispered. "I thought I…I would…"

"No…no it's…it's quite alright…" He said back, blinking himself out of his reverie. "Um…thank you…I uh…I always hated those damned collar hooks…" He tried to pass the uncomfortable moment off, but still felt his pulse pounding away.

"Yeah…I know what you mean…" She muttered, taking a slow step back, her cheeks turning red. "Annoyin'…they are…"

"Infuriating…" He added, though he himself didn't know if he were even talking about his garment anymore, or the awkward things he was feeling. He grabbed his cap, still laying on the desk from that morning, and slapped it onto his head. He put on a spare belt he kept in his office, sans a blaster pistol for the first time in months, and ushered Freya out of the office before either of them had a chance to make things even more tense.

"How's it going sir?" Coleth asked wryly as they exited the office, a smirk on his face.

"Don't you have the blasters in the arms room to inspect, trooper?" The commander deadpanned.

"Um…no sir, I don't think so…"

"Well, you do now." Tharcourt returned with a smirk of his own. He led Thorne out of the room, and Lago chuckled.

"Damn Coleth…told you to stop ribbing the old man about the ensign." He jested. The scout trooper rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Must be a touchy subject." Coleth complained. "Eh. You see that uniform though?" Lago whistled in agreement. "The commander scored a game-winning goal with a girl like that!"

"And geez is she tall." Lago added. "She's as vertically endowed as the old man." Coleth had opened the arms-room door and started pulling out the weapons.

"Heard from Sergeant Felian she can take out eight training droids with an electrostaff too." The scout commented, stacking the blasters against the wall. "A looker and a fighter. Hell of a package deal. I could go for a gal like that."

"Uh huh." Lago mused. "Keep talking, Coleth. Commander Tharcourt hears you, you'll be laundering Delta-7's uniforms."

"Yeah, yeah." Coleth groused.

Tharcourt and Thorne walked down the hall, shoulder to shoulder. Neither had said anything since the incident in the office, and it was still fresh on their minds. The commander looked at Thorne out of the corner of his eye. What was it he had been feeling? Other than stupid of course. Thorne was a wonderful person to be around. She was a good soldier and her charm was undeniable. He genuinely enjoyed the friendship they had developed. So why had he felt that way about her?

He shot his eyes toward her secretly for a few seconds. She was an attractive young woman, he had to confess that much. And she didn't flaunt it, something he detested in women. Thorne was a cheerful and energetic woman who never failed to put a smile on his face when she was around, but that youthful ardor belied a person whom he would gladly have at his side on the battlefield. She was strong and capable, despite her commander's attempts to destroy her. She would make somebody a flawless partner one day. To him, she was just a friend, and had to remain that way. For kriff's sake, she was barely born when he had entered academy. He chided himself for feeling anything else. He was after all a man, he reasoned. Males of all specie have a chemically-driven instinct to mate. That's all it was, and it was his duty to ignore such baser urges. Which is precisely what he decided to do.

Thorne glanced sidelong at Drakken a short moment. She hated herself for what had happened in his office, and there was a nagging fear that it would change things between them. It was silly and immature of her, what she had done. He was a good friend, and he was a virtuous and honorable officer. That was part of the reason she liked being in his company. She felt a kinship with him, an adoration for the commander because of his qualities. Anything else she felt was just absurd, right? She stole another glance. The way he carried himself, so confident and bold, and she knew it was no act. He was so brave and daring a warrior; and yet the way he spoke to her was deep and intelligent. What was it girls called it? The whole package.

She couldn't help but admit that he was attractive. Older yes, but that just made him seem so much more wise. She'd always hated dumb boys. Drakken was certainly no mere boy. She mentally kicked herself again, telling herself to get out of that garden once and for all. She loved having Drakken as a friend, and she wasn't about to muck it all up by acting like some dumb little girl with a crush. This man was off-limits, made of one-hundred-percent unobtanium, and she decided that she would do everything in her power to break herself from thinking anything differently.

"Good evening, Commander Tharcourt." The mess sergeant greeted as the two officers arrived at the large window.

"Sergeant." Tharcourt answered with a nod. "Doing alright tonight?"

"Yessir." The sergeant replied, handing them each a tray as it was given to him. "Cafeteria's all yours as usual." The commander nodded again, and he and Thorne settled into their usual place in an isolated corner of the large room, Thorne sitting to the right of Tharcourt as always. The commander gazed at his tray a while. It was inhabited by some sort of noodles, with an unidentifiable and probably occult sort of meat product, all doused with a white sauce or gravy. He looked over to see Freya already assaulting her meal with the ferocity of a starfleet. He felt a tinge of pity.

"She uh…she really does starve you, don't she?" He muttered. Freya stopped eating and sat her spoon on her tray. He saw her nod lightly.

"Yeah…" She whispered. "Ticked at meself for thinking it typical this long."

"Don't be mad at yourself." He offered.

"Only mad at meself for thinkin' this was all a good idea." She shrugged, and stirred her food around. "Joinin' the Empire and having me a grand ol' adventure. Thought it'd be fun."

"What are you going to do?" Tharcourt asked, steering the conversation to something a little less glum. "When you get out of Interrogation?"

"I think I'd like t' find me a good combat unit like I said." She answered. "Away from people like Raliss." Drakken sighed.

"I never did." He grumbled. "Heavens know I'm under one now. I think there are too many officers like that."

"Not you." Freya returned. "Yer nothin' like her…or whoever you're servin' under now." She took a drink of her water, then swirled it around in her cup. "Can I ask you something, Drakken?" She said in a meek voice. "A favor I guess?" He scoffed.

"I'm already in it neck deep with you, Freya. In for a credit, in for a mint. Shoot."

"I was wonderin'…I mean if it were possible…" She looked down at her plate. "Could I join your unit if this thing works out?" Tharcourt was nonplussed. He'd thought a time or two about maybe asking her to join Delta-7 should he be able to get her free from Raliss, but not seriously. Though the unit was technically a man down, and he could most definitely justify having her transferred to his team as him needing an adjutant, he hadn't thought about the true possibility of it. She was a good fighter, and a loyal friend, but it was so farfetched in a way.

He questioned why he vacillated to say yes to her immediately. Because she didn't have real combat experience? Because she was a new officer? Or was it something else? Once again, he had thought about asking her a time or two, but here she was, asking him outright. Why hesitate though? She would end up somewhere. Why not somewhere she could be happy, and where they could work together. They had a chemistry, and the team already seems to have taken a liking to her, even going so far as to start the ribbing already.

"There's two ways into Delta-7, Thorne." Tharcourt explained. "The most common is a recommendation from ISB or a commander higher than captain. Then an interview to see if you'd fit in and be needed. The second is to apply directly to my office. That path is open only to officers, ISB personnel and special forces troopers above corporal." Thorne nodded. "Are you applying, Ensign Thorne?" She gave him a small smile.

"Yes sir." She answered.

"And what would you do if you were accepted into the team?" He asked, feigning a professional tone. She played along.

"I would serve ye faithfully, commander. I would do my duty to my unit commander, and be willing to fight and die for him, and for anyone on the team, sir."

"Hm." Drakken hummed. "Then I suppose I will just have to keep your application until such a time as you are free to be transferred." He smiled devilishly. "Then…I guess I'll get around to thinking about it…you know, at some point."

"Oh you." Freya giggled. She had been truly nervous about asking to join his team, and had somewhat expected him to give her a myriad of good reason why she couldn't. Instead, he had agreed, and even made a joke about it. She almost couldn't believe that things were looking up so much. This was tempered by the knowledge that she still was in her predicament, and fate or chance would have to see if she were going to get out. Fate, chance, and this man whom she had come to respect and admire.

"Better finish your meal." Drakken advised. "You can always get one with me, but I can't promise otherwise."

"Right." She said. She slowly ate a few more spoonfuls of her noodles, then nibbled on her bread. "So…" She washed down the bite of roll with some water. "…what do ye do on yer off-time?"

"Sleep." Tharcourt shrugged. "I dunno."

"Come on, ye have t' 'ave some hobby or someplace ye like to go when yer on leave." She pressed.

"Eh. I honestly just stay wherever I'm stationed and loiter around the firing range...read or sit around outside the wire if I'm on-world. Not much to do on one of these ships…" He decided to ignore the rest of the noodle dish and tackle the rice pudding instead.

"Don't ye 'ave any friends or family to visit, Drakken?" She asked. His spoon paused over the desert, and he blinked.

"No, I can't say that I have." He stated coldly. "I've known Captain Piett for ages…and there's my team." He looked over to find her staring at him as if he'd suddenly grown a second head. "What?"

"Drakken, that's…I'd say it's kriffin' intolerable if a person could believe it!" She shot. "A man like you oughta have at least a few good pals, a lassie in every port e'en."

"Well, I don't." Tharcourt stated. "Never saw the point I guess."

"Yer takin' the piss now." Freya said, almost angrily. His amused/annoyed tell of raising his eyebrow presented itself.

"I'm sure I am not." He returned. "This life isn't exactly conducive to lasting friendships and romance." He thought for a moment. "Seen some soldiers manage it. Dunno how. Just seems like a feckless waste trying to balance war with domesticity." Freya's mouth was open. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. In her mind, these were the words of a person who had given up on people, on having relationships. Given how good he had been to her, and how it seemed that he treated his men, it was inconceivable that he would have nobody in his life that mattered, and seemingly nothing he loved doing outside of his profession. She didn't know whether to yell at him, or start crying.

"When was the last time ye' took leave, Drakken?"

"Few months? I think…"

"Well, next time I got leave, ye take you a break. We'll go somewhere nice, alright?" Freya offered.

"Where?"

"Don't matter, does it?" She shot back. "Maybe a floatin' amusement park, or we could catch a show somewhere. Let's go to some exotic planet where we can eat food that stares back at us." Drakken laughed.

"You're mad." He quipped.

"Maybe, but I wanna live." She returned. "You remember that, right? Live well because a warrior could be dead tomorra?"

"Yeah…Hell, I did sort of say that…" Drakken mumbled, drumming his fingers on the table. "I don't know…"

"What are ye 'fraid of, commander?" Freya smiled playfully.

"Afraid…I'm not afraid of anything." Drakken replied, then realized how immature and defensive that must have sounded. She smirked, and he realized how aggressive this girl could be when it came to taking care of her friends.

"Mm-hmm…" She mused.

"Okay, what are you afraid of, Thorne?" He asked. Her expression softened.

"Bein' stuck in a cage till I lose meself and don't give a feck no more." She stated outright.

"And you became an Imperial officer." Tharcourt sighed.

"Well you are, and ye' ain't the paradigm of officer etiquette now, are ye? Drakken let out an immodest 'HA!'.

"I feel personally attacked." He mock-whined. "But I suppose you're right. I never bought into some of the draconian rhetoric and politicking that supposedly comes with being an officer. I suppose you don't either."

"Nope." She declared. Tharcourt as always took his candy and sat it on Freya's tray.

"Well, maybe that's why they chose me for this job." He said. "Get a rebel of an officer to fight the real rebels. Either I'm that unconventional, or they just wanted me out of their hair." Freya rolled up the candy in a napkin and stuck it in the inside chest pocket of her tunic.

"Well then, they can jus' stick me out there with ya, because I'm just as wacky." She commented. "What do you want to do now?"

"Don't know. It's my day off. What do you want to do?" He asked. She narrowed her eyes devilishly.

"Training hall?"

Looks like a beautiful friendship is finally blossoming between Commander Tharcourt and Ensign Thorne. But how will he get her out of her situation? And what strange and terrible adventures await the team now that Vader is calling the shots? Tune in next time, loyal readers. I will return soon with yet another chapter of this riveting tale. Until then, Cheerio! -Drake