A/N: Wow, sorry for the long wait! (and for this super-short chapter)

"Private Nova!" Commander Nebula shouted down the corridor. He marched up to the princess, file in hand.

Mira, who up to this point had been looking a bit distracted, jumped. "Yes sir!"

"You've been assigned to a mission on Tradeworld!"

Mira brightened up. A Tradeworld mission? Yes! Those were always action-packed! She needed some adrenaline after all the boring traffic work. She took the file and opened it. Her smile fell on reading the contents. "Sir, this is... 'supplementary food cart inspection'? Is that even a real job?"

The Commander let out a little 'harumph'. "It is when the health inspectors can get shot for giving a failing grade! I need you to escort this man. According to him," Nebula pointed at the inspector in question, "One of the cart operators is a little too feisty and he would like our back-up."

Mira looked at the inspector. He was tall and impossibly spindly (his head brushed the ceiling, and Mira could probably fit both hands around his waist), giving the impression that several broomsticks had donned leather jackets and combined into a single living creature. His huge round eyes were pale yellow with odd green freckles, and his leathery skin was deep, murky brown. A straight sharp beak and straight, pointy claws rounded out his off-putting appearance. He wore a plain black suit.

"Pleased to meet you," the tall guy said. "I am Health Inspector Torix."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Ranger Mira Nova, at your service." Wow, I could throw him like a javelin! She thought. Her mind continued this treacherous path: Wonder if he'd stick if I did?

"That is good. Meatball Sam is a dangerous adversary and must be stopped; we must be cautious in our approach. I will wait for you in the ship." Torix turned and walked away.

Mira leaned in and whispered to Commander Nebula. "Uh, Commander, did he really just describe some food cart guy as a 'dangerous adversary'?"

"It's Tradeworld, what do you expect?"

Warp had to tune out more old-lady chatter. It was times like these he wished Zurg didn't feel the need to bring him along. Right now, 'William' was sitting with a group of grouchy old men- POWs in this war on the minds of men forced to go along with their wives to craft stores, long ago resigned to the fact that their only reprieve was chatting about the latest sports game, or betraying the cause by requesting a personal article of clothing. They would have to await their counterattack- a trip to the hardware store, or going on a fishing trip... this was all Warp's imaginings. If you were to ask the other men, most of them appreciated the wives having a hobby. Several minutes into reading the paper, Warp turned his head to look at one of the traitors. The man's name was called, and he dutifully accepted his new pair of handmade socks. He grinned widely- they were the same colors as his favorite sports team. Around a half hour later, Warp strolled to Ethyl's side, and she pushed a hat into his hands.

It was really ugly.

Unreasonably ugly.

Like "mocked for weeks if the news ever saw him in it" ugly.

She doesn't expect me to wear this, does she? No disrespect meant to the little old lady, who was otherwise very talented, but she had terrible taste in color schemes. Hot pink and forest green might have made an interesting combination, though not one Warp would consider, if she hadn't also added fuzzy orange pompoms and sequins. "Uh, nice hat. Who's it for?"

"Zeke said you're going to be on Shragarak, and I thought you might get chilly."

"Oh, thanks," he said giving Zurg a brief glare. "I'll be sure to wear it."

What was he going there for? And did he really have to wear the hat?!