The Flyboy (Kes)

[Joey Rabeak]

The galaxy slipped by in streaks of blue and white as gravity itself became visible in hyperspace. At the controls of a brand-new, black-painted T-65AC4 X-Wing fighter sat an equally new pilot. Asleep.

Jofar "Joey" Rabeak sat slumped in his seat, head tilted back, mouth open and snoring lightly while his ship hurtled beyond the speed of light via autopilot. And why not sleep? His course listed a flight time of seven hours, and for the past three the brown-furred Nehantite pilot had been dead to the universe, lost in a land of pleasant dreams whilst en route to his first real post as an Alliance fighter pilot.

What a journey it had been, becoming one of the first Nehantites in the Alliance military in a non-engineering role. Not the first, but there had been few enough that Joey often felt like it, despite his best efforts to feel anything but different. To join the military is to partially give up yourself and become part of something larger, more important than just you. Being surrounded by so many different races was a culture-shock to the Nehantite at first, but he did not let himself be tempted to request special accommodations or treatment due to his species, aside from necessary things such as clothing with a hole for his tail, and shoes or boots that would fit his footpaws. And CC-30, though that was provided to him without asking, much to his relief. In the Alliance, Joey hoped to prove himself not as a Nehantite, but simply as a man.

Such a goal turned out more challenging than he cared to admit. Other students at the academy had vastly better education, or more experience off-world than he did, and it was easy to feel depressed and want to hide away in his first few weeks away from home. But he didn't hide away, he didn't allow depression to get the better of him, and instead Joey used his charm to befriend those better at certain subjects so that he could learn from them, and learn cultures from those he'd never met. An easy smile and playful nature enamored him to his fellow students, while his instructors could not deny the camaraderie he built in any of his classes.

Sadly, camaraderie did not always lead to the best of scores, and despite his best efforts, Joey Rabeak found himself struggling in his second year at the academy, and on the verge of washing out. All the best intentions in the galaxy didn't seem to come to his aid, as the depression and loneliness he fought so hard to keep at bay his first few weeks not only found him, they beat him into the corner. Alcohol, parties, even various boyfriends, Joey tried to find things to bring joy back to his life, yet all seemed empty the moment they were gone. Tasks were done mechanically, tests taken with little focus, and the desire to be part of something greater turned into nothing more than a distant memory as his thoughts turned to having to explain failure when he would inevitably be forced to return home.

Deliverance came in a most unexpected manner, as he was given the task of delivering a damaged and decrepit old Y-Wing to another station so that it could be torn down for scrap and any usable parts. A "take out the trash" run designed to be more punishment for poor performance than an actual assignment. Already stripped of its weapons, hyperdrive, and R2 interface, the Y-Wing was little more than a spaceworthy chassis that Joey climbed into, slumping down with a thud into the collapsed pilot's seat. The controls were sticky. Joey didn't want to know why the controls were sticky, and nor did he have time to worry about it as he cinched his gloves tighter and engaged the engines. Moments later he was being waved out of the docking bay and his vision became filled with nothing but stars. Nothing but stars for the next two hours, and it was only then that he learned that the radio and comm system had also been removed, leaving him with no entertainment or companionship beyond his own repertoire of showtunes and pop songs he could sing to himself in the acoustic hell that was the cabin of a Y-Wing. So sing he did as he plugged along as fast as the craft's crippled old engines would carry him.

About an hour into his journey, and halfway through the second chorus of "What He Say," even peppy, syncopated rythym failed to lift his mood, and Joey was left in silence, considering his options. Option one: he could continue his current decline in the academy until he washed out, where he could at least say he did his best, then go become an engineer somewhere. Option two: he could try and play the race card, and maybe get transferred to some other sort of position where he might find things easier, but he would have a difficult time living with himself if he did so. And option three: ...he had no idea, so he sat there quietly, cruising along and pretending he had some sort of game plan while he counted down the minutes on the clock - one of the few instruments left on the dashboard.

The following hour was one of excruciating boredom, until at last hope appeared in the form of a white speck in the distance which wasn't a star, but a station. Sitting up in his seat, he angled the nose of his Y-Lemon toward it and smiled. In but a few short minutes, his torturous road trip would be at and end.

The crew aboard the scrapyard station were doing anything but smiling, however. Angry red screens blinked out warnings of an incoming asteroid swarm which would pelt against the station's shields and likely obliterate the lone Y-Wing on its approach. Comms were opened on all channels to warn it, yet Joey failed to alter course as he had no onboard comm unit to receive their direction to change course. It wasn't until his own shields flared and his ship rocked from the impact of a hurtling asteroid the size of a football that he even realized the danger he was in.

And then it was on. Joey's Y-Wing had too much momentum to hook around out of the way, and the brakes were... well, after an application of them he wasn't convinced they hadn't been removed already either. Panic coursed through his veins like ice water as he plowed straight ahead, mind fumbling over what to do. A glance up showed that there would be no avoiding the fast-moving rock cloud by sheer luck, so Joey took a deep breath and decided it was better to go out in a blaze of glory than to just be space roadkill.

Strong paws gripped the sticky control yoke, yanking it back while his booted footpaws worked the pedals controlling pitch and yaw, angling himself straight into the oncoming storm. All shields were focused forward as he began a dangerous game of chicken with space rocks. Rolling, diving, spinning and ducking through them, each new asteroid presented its own challenge. Smaller ones unseen until it was too late hammered against his shields, the flash of impact temporarily blinding his vision, but still he managed to evade his geological assailants. For the better part of five minutes, Joey Rabeak threw every maneuver he'd ever learned in simulation or practice at the asteroids, as well as a few new ones born of panic or sheer luck, until at last he found himself free of the storm.

Only then did he turn back to the station, his right engine screaming and throwing more warning lights than his control console had lights left to illuminate, but he still managed to bring the junker in for a mostly soft landing inside the main hangar bay of the junkyard station.

Shaking and thanking Garfife and anything else he could, Joey opened the hatch to screams and claps of praise and disbelief, and he peered over the edge of his cockpit to see a crowd of ground crew pumping their fists in the air or clapping their paws while someone thankfully remembered to bring him a dismount ladder. No one thought the poor fool was going to make it through that mess alive, and yet through skill, determination and luck, Joey had.

It took only minutes for reports to head back to his superiors of his astounding agility in a Y-Wing of all things, and footage from station cameras was fed as well. What had started out as a punishment mission turned into the saving grace of Joey's career, and he was immediately plucked from strategic planning to be thrown into the X-Wing pilots class. From there, everything felt right, felt natural, and the aptitude he'd displayed in the asteroid swarm went on to serve him well as a fighter pilot in a truly agile craft. Joey found himself in that role, and threw everything he had at it. In the end he still didn't quite graduate at the top of his class, but his vigor and drive was undeniable. His reward upon graduation was a real assignment, Jovan Station.

Sensors beeped inside his cockpit, rousing him from his in-flight nap. Smacking his lips, he could taste the musty-sweet flavor of bad breath, and he sighed while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "How long we got, Deebs?" he said aloud to his astromech, R2-DB, whom he affectionately called Dat Boi, or Deebs for short. The astromech beeped and whistled, displaying a countdown clock before him.

"Cool, hope the can isn't too far off the hanger," Joey chuckled. "I am bursting for a piss." A wriggle of his backside brought his rump to life, and he sat up in his seat. "Three, two, one, p-shooo!" the Nehantite said, and with that he dropped out of hyperspace.

Jovan Station loomed before him, looking every bit like the picture postcard he'd been shown of it, and much to his relief there was no asteroid swarm detected anywhere in the area. Taking up his T-65AC4's comm, Joey cleared his throat, then clicked the button. "Jovan Station, this is Alliance X-Wing pilot Joey Rabeak approaching, do I have permission to land?"

Permission was granted, as the Nehantite was right on time, and Joey swung his black X-Wing into the assigned bay with ease, and touched down lightly before popping his canopy. Out was tossed a duffle bag before his legs swung over the edge and he dropped neatly to the floor, helmet remaining in the cockpit. "The john?" he quickly asked the approaching landing tech with his ladder. Given a quick point, Joey snatched up his pack and dashed off, grateful for a refresher after seven hours of flight.

Two minutes later he felt vastly better, and found R2-DB waiting for him by the refresher door. "Heya, Deebs, we make good time?" the Nehantite asked.

Dat Boi beeped twice, then wiggled slightly. Joey grinned. "Dang, I knew this bird was fast, but I didn't know she was that fast," he laughed. "Looks like I've got time for a sonic shower and change before reporting in. You go let 'em know the fuel mix ratio for our ride, okay? I'll be back later."

With Dat Boi rotating to head off, Joey scanned the hangar for the typical "truck stop" area, and sure enough he found it. Three credits bought him a five minute sonic shower and a private place to change. Flightsuit and gloves were shoved into his duffel while his duty uniform was pulled out and given a quick de-wrinkle in the sonic shower as well. Dressed, and ready, he made a brief stop to put a bit of product in his hair before styling it "just so." Making a good first impression was critical, especially on his first posting. With bag slung over his shoulder, Joey Rabeak headed into Jovan proper, and followed the guide signs toward central command. Over the last four years he'd been on enough stations that Jovan didn't really impress him all that much, though he was glad to see there was a decent variety of private enterprise, as that often meant good food and drink had to be available at least one of them. And maybe some attractive men, if he was lucky.

No, he told himself. It wasn't time to think about things like that, it was time to be professional, and present himself like the skilled pilot he was. Despite Jovan's size, it was only a matter of minutes before he reached the administration desk and presented his ID chip.

"Pilot Joey Rabeak, assigned from the Alliance Flight Academy, reporting in," he announced to the person behind the desk.

[Kes Akiena]

The man behind the desk looked up, a slightly disinterested look passing over his features as he let a sigh out. He didn't seem exactly bored, but he also didn't seem to be particularly bursting with excitement, either. He'd seen his fair share of pilots reporting in, and this one was no different. About the only thing that was different was the fact that the kid was a Nehantite. They had one aboard the station already, having another wouldn't be anything new. Reaching out, the officer took the ID and plugged it into his terminal. Verification came a moment later, and ejecting the chip, handed it back.

"Head up to command," came the dry tone. He'd said these words many times before, that was evident.

"You can check in with the Commander, and he'll get you started on situating yourself."

Still that monotonous tone, but at least the man offered an encouraging nod while lifting a hand to gesture to the bay of turbolifts behind the Nehantite.

"Head to deck 14, then grab one of the hub lifts to take you to command."

[Joey Rabeak]

After four years of intense behavioral scrutiny and adherence to protocol at the Academy, Joey seemed less than impressed by the humdrum manner in which he was checked in. Still, check-in was check-in, and from the sounds of things this was a station whose commander liked to be in the know of all the details. He'd expected to be directed to his squadron leader, not the station commander.

"Thanks," he said, perfect smile gleaming. Hitching his bag up on his shoulder, the Nehantite executed a perfect heel-turn and marched right back on out of the admin office.

"Deck 14, hub lift to command," he repeated to himself. It was easy to become distracted by all that Jovan had to offer, and the more he looked at her, the more she felt like a small city in space instead of a station. Weaving through crowds of countless races, Joey tried to keep track of places he'd like to return to, all while following the signs to the nearest lift. He wound up sharing it, crowded in and packed shoulder-to-shoulder as a massive Herglic decided she needed on, too, after the lift was clearly full. Crammed in like a sardine, Joey maintained his composure, and took a deep breath when at last the lift cleared on the fourteenth deck.

Deck 14 was decidedly less interesting than the main promenade, utilitarian and simple, and from the looks of it, mostly housing units. Smoothing out his jacket, Joey carried on, and scanned his ID at one of the hub lift terminals. He only had time to hum three or four bars of "Girl Done Got It" before the doors parted and he was treated to an empty carriage, where he could swing and sway as much as he liked all the way up to the command deck. It turned out that not much swinging or swaying was necessary to the Nehantite as he moved only a tiny bit before the doors opened once more.

Central command appeared much different than he had expected, so it took him a moment to get his bearings. "Commander's office?" he asked someone in uniform. All he received was a finger pointing toward a door across the way, and so he nodded in thanks and followed the path around a hubub of activity in the middle of the room to reach the closed door. Once more he smoothed out his jacket after pulling his bag from his shoulder, setting it on the floor. "First impressions," Joey whispered to himself, and with a deep breath he calmed his nerves before pressing the door buzzer.

[Kes Akiena]

The buzzer to his office sounded with its' normal pitch that seemed to have the ability to generate piercing headaches. Depending on who was on the other side, of course. Usually it was T'yeellaa, or any number of the other officers under his command. Thankfully those were the majority of his visitors during the times that saw him on duty. It was all very much the same, and it was a welcome existence for the time being.

Buried in the contents of a flimsi file, Kes looked up towards the door and the vague shape that could be seen behind the heavily frosted and criss-crossed framed glass. He blinked, then set the file down before and leaning back in his seat. He wasn't exactly expecting anyone at this time, but as of late the redhead had been swamped, and it wouldn't surprise him if he'd forgotten something. An untouched stack of datapads still rested on the corner of his desk where he'd placed them the morning before. Even a host of comms had gone unanswered until he could find the proper time to address the ocean of requests from the merchants on Jovan.

Kes let out a perplexed hrmph.

"Enter."

[Joey Rabeak]

"Enter." The voice could only be faintly heard through the door, but Joey did hear it. Taking up his duffle in his left paw, the Nehantite pressed the door control button with his right, and the door slid open to reveal a tidy office, and a desk stacked with datapads. Stepping neatly inside, he made sure his tail was out of danger before the door closed behind him - a lesson he'd learned the hard way many times at the Academy.

Once inside, he carefully dropped his bag, placed his ID chip on the desk, and stood in a prompt and perfect salute. "Commander, sir. Pilot Joey Rabeak reporting for duty, sir. Fresh assignment from the Academy, sir." he stated with the sort of absolute precision which had been drilled into him, and those like him at the Alliance Military Academy.

[Kes Akiena]

It'd been a long time since anyone had stepped into his office with such a straight back and stiff arm. It was a little bit jarring, and Kes stared up at the Nehantite for only a moment before he slowly rose to stand. He knew with the vaguest of recollections that a new pilot would be along at some point today, but the sheer backlog of work that he'd become buried in had pushed that particular knowledge far to the periphery. Another bit of surprise came from the fact that this particular pilot was a Nehantite; oh, they were common enough, but the name this boy spoke was enough to strike the redhead into momentary silence. He covered his mild shock with a deep inhale, hands slowly going around to clasp together at the small of his back. A blink, and Kes finally gave a respectful nod.

"Mr. Rabeak."

A gesture to one of the chairs in front of his desk, and lowering himself to sit once more, Kes let his eyes break to the side, one hand reaching out to one of the unchecked datapads stacked atop a few others.

"I'm afraid that work has not given me much time to go over your transfer files," the 'pad was switched on, as he thumbed through its' contents.

There.

The addition of one pilot, Jofar Rabeak, to the squadrons posted to Jovan. It was a hell of a thing to be unable to tend to.

"Your trip was uneventful, I take it?"

[Joey Rabeak]

Leaving his bag where it lay, Joey took the offered seat, grateful it was softer and more broken-in than the pilot's seat in his brand-new X-Wing. "Yes, sir" he replied, then smiled. "But of a snooze, if must say."

His pink eyes took in the stacks of datapads again, then studied his new CO. Small in stature, but Joey had learned stature meant little in the Alliance. "And, as far as not having time to review my transfer files, heh... I wasn't exactly expecting to meet the station commander on my first day, sir."

Joey's smile was easy and disarming, but under it all there remained the unmistakable cockiness of a rookie pilot.

[Kes Akiena]

Kes offered a smile at that.

"I like to meet as many of my staff face to face if I'm able."

There was a moment of silence as he indicated the state of his workspace with a rueful laugh.

"Unfortunately, oftentimes duty has other plans for my state of readiness."

Gods but the boy looked like his father. It wasn't overt, but for those looking, it was certainly there. A small amount of quiet fell over the two, as the Commander used the lull to study his new pilot. There was youthful energy and a sense that everything around was seen with hungry eyes. It was tempered with the usual training from the Starfighter Corps. He wondered if General Brecklin had purposefully recommended the post change. It wouldn't surprise him; the old man often had a quiet penchant for sending along little surprises.

His eyes went back to the datapad he held, skimming over the dossier.

"Is there anything you hope to accomplish here, on Jovan?"

[Joey Rabeak]

Joey swallowed to clear his throat, finding the air aboard the station a little dry. Might have to suggest something to the maintenance crew about how to better regulate humidity, but that would come later.

"Really, this is my first assignment, sir," he replied. "My first goal is to learn how to best integrate with my squadron. After that I can think about personal goals, if you don't mind me saying."

It was a bit of a canned answer, but it was better than, "I'd like to be the best pilot in your squadron! Pew pew pew!" which was really running through his mind.

[Kes Akiena]

A frown at that. He'd heard such answers so many times. The delivery was usually varied, but the intention and meaning the same. He'd heard that same sort of response so many times; even when he was posted to Dac. The redhead set the datapad down gently atop a stack of flimsis.

"Mr. Rabeak, I want to know about what you hope to accomplish. What you hope to gather from this posting. Not necessarily the pilot. The pilot is a facet, yes, but it is not all of who you are; it is not the whole being of you."

A reassuring smile.

[Joey Rabeak]

"Oh," Joey said. That level of inquiry was not what he had expected, and for a moment the cocky pilot melted away, revealing a young man who'd just stepped out into the "real world" as it were. His brow knit in thought in much the same way as his father's did, puzzling over the best way to say what was on his mind.

In the end it just sort of seemed to tumble out. "Well, sir, it's a new start for me. Culturally it's been made clear to me that I can't go back home, there's no future for me there. My father used to say that he found his life in space, and I need to know if it'll be the same for me. So far it has been, but I need to know how to define myself. Find who I really am. The Alliance seemed to be the best opportunity for me to do that, and it has done well for me so far. Jovan Station wasn't my choice - I wasn't given one, sir, I was assigned - but it may be for the best, as it's not strictly a military installation. It'll give me the chance to better learn other cultures and customs, on their terms. I guess it boils down to that I'm here to sort of figure things out, sir. If that makes sense."

[Kes Akiena]

It was an answer that pleased him, and Kes nodded as Joey finished.

"We've got no shortage of different cultures here," he assured, "... sometimes too much."

There was no disapproval in his tone, only a matter-of-fact appraisal of the nature of Jovan. It was meant to be a place for all to come together, and it had grown into exactly that. Clashes of ideology were expected, but never had they become so violent as to dissuade the Alliance or the Cizerack to close up shop. In a way it was refreshing. So many different beings coming together to live their lives.

"But despite it all we make it work."

He gave an easy smile then, leaning back in his chair. The calm facade he held masked a furiously racing mind.

"Now. You've answered my question; are their any questions that I can answer for you?"

[Joey Rabeak]

Kes's response gave Joey food for thought, and he considered what he'd seen so far on Jovan Station, comparing it against what else he'd seen in his life. The Academy was a military installation through and through, with strict order which had taken the Nehantite some time to get used to, while Jovan reminded him a bit more of home, with a vastly more civilian atmosphere than he'd felt in four years. He'd gone from one extreme to the other, but perhaps his greatest challenge would be learning to balance the two.

Sitting straight in his chair, the recently-minted Academy graduate's mind went to the most important thing he could think of. "Two, sir," he replied. "First, where should I go to find my squadron leader, so I can report to them? And second, how are living quarters assigned, here?"

Ahh, the thought process of a cadet. Who's my superior? first, and where do I sleep? second. That seemed to be all that was running through the forefront of his mind until a spark of life snapped his eyes open wider. "Oh! Sorry, sir, General Brecklin had something for me to give to you when I met you. Just a moment." Joey turned in his seat and reached back for his duffel bag. After a few seconds of rooting about in it, he withdrew... yet another datapad to place on Kes's desk.

"The General said it's locked with a keycode. He said you'd know which one, sir." The pilot smiled as he set the datapad down on his commander's desk.

[Kes Akiena]

A single raised eyebrow as he leaned forward, hand outstretched to take the offered datapad. There was no real surprise that Meiers would send along a message, though encrypted? That part was a little bit unexpected. Not out of the ordinary, but still. Accepting the 'pad with a nod, Kes rewound a small bit to consider Joey's previous queries.

"Lieutenant Mazeran is the man you'll want to be getting with. He's over the squadrons that are posted here... " the 'pad was set to the side then, as the redhead reached to a stack of flimsi files, and opening one up, pulled out a single sheet with the pertinent information that would help his new pilot to begin acclimating himself to Jovan.

"... and will be able to get you sorted without a problem."

A moment, and Kes pulled another leaf of flimsis close, rifling through each one with intent before finding the object of his search. He pulled it out, giving a glance over its' length. Transfer papers were usually an easy lot to decipher.

"Looks like you'll be slotting into Titan Squadron. They're a good group."

At that he again leaned forward, holding both flimsis out for Joey to take.

[Joey Rabeak]

Titan Squadron, huh? Joe smiled on the outside, but he was inwardly giggling about the various condom jokes the squadron was likely subject to as they shared their name with the "large size" product of the galaxy's top manufacturer. He kept that thought to himself, however, as he leaned forward to grasp the flimis, the leather of his chair creaking as he shifted. Over the past four years he'd become well-acquainted with military document layout and structure, as proper form and function was one of the things drilled into every first-year cadet. There it was, plain as day, and the young man nodded before resting the flimsis in his lap.

Tailtip flicking idly despite his rigid posture, a nervous energy flowed through Joey Rabeak as he realized he was finally at his first posting. "If you don't mind me saying, sir, we read about the attack on Jovan, back at the Academy. I want to give you my word that I'll do my very best to make sure nothing like that is allowed to happen again."

Garfife, the boy was eager, though it was unclear if he was eager to prove himself, or simply eager for action. Or maybe he'd had too much sugar or caff that day - likely both, given his age. "Most of my questions can likely be handled by Lieutenant Mazeran, now, but first, is there anything I be made aware of about this station, sir? Any quirks or protocol that might not make their way into official briefings?"

[Kiimiti Taassaurra]

The door chime beeped behind where Joey sat.

"Commanderr, jI've asssembled the rrep-p-porrt jyou assk-k-k-ked forr."

[Kes Akiena]

Before he'd even had a chance to formulate a response, Preita'rrou Taassaurra's voice cut through the air mere moments after sounding the chime. Eyes going past Joey, Kes couldn't help the inscrutable expression that his features fell into. There was no real telling just how many of his staff he'd need to have talks with, though at least two came to mind first and foremost. Unfortunately Kiimiti Taassaurra was not one of them. Perhaps she needed to be?

No real immediate options presented themselves, and with a frown the redhead depressed the callback button to answer her.

"Just a moment, Preita'rrou."

The silence on the other side signalled his request was being honored, and Kes returned his attentions to Joey.

"Nothing particularly special, Mr. Rabeak. We're not exactly a hard-edged military installation, as I'm sure you were able to see on your way up here. We're a joint venture, so there are still things that both the Alliance and the Pride are discovering. We adhere to protocols, but we also know that this isn't an easy puzzle to solve, so there is overlap. Sometimes it's beneficial, and other times... "

He trailed off at that, offering a light-hearted smile then.

"Uncharted waters, and all."

[Joey Rabeak]

"I'll make sure I don't lose my paddle," Joey smiled. At the Academy he'd developed a knack for sneaking into the wordplay of others, which had helped to ingrain him with his fellow cadets, and he saw no reason to stray from such behavior now.

In that moment the Nehantite began to realize he was overstaying his welcome for his... welcome. A station Commander was a busy man, and the shadow Joey could feel on the door behind him was a firm reminder that he could not monopolize Kes's time any further. Flimsis passing into his left paw, the newly-minted pilot stood. "Thank you for seeing me, sir," he said. "Though it looks like you've got a full day, so I should probably get out of your hair, here." The smile grew a shade of cheekiness as he nodded ever-so-slightly at the stack of datapads on Kes's desk.

"If there's nothing more, sir, I will go and find Lt. Mazeran and get myself sorted." His paw came up in a crisp salute. Only then did he realize that he didn't know the protocol of how he should act around Cizerack officers, and the expected deference of respect he would need to show them. They were technically part of the Alliance, but also separate in their own way, rather like the Midlothian Astral Navy, and he still didn't quite know how to address them.

[Kes Akiena]

Rising to stand, Kes returned the salute with a much more casual version. He gave a slight halfway look to the state of his desk, and offered a nod in agreement.

"A full day is a nice way to put it," he chuckled lightly. Of course, now that meant adding a trip to engineering into the mix. Not exactly how he expected to be going about his day.

Kes skirted his desk, mindful enough to at least escort his new pilot to the door, and when it whisked open, the redhead sent his eyes to Preita'rrou Taassaurra.

"Preita'rrou," he acknowledged.

[Kiimiti Taassaurra]

Even though she expected it, the sudden parting of the door in front of her still caused Kiimi's ears to flinch. Fortunately, that was the only outward sign of surprise that escaped control.

"Commanderr, thiss jiss the g-g-grrjid JN-thrree-thrree-f-f-fourr telem-metrrjy, wjith ssusspjicjiouss c-contactss noted."

The Preita'rrou held the slip forward, and in the interim, her wandering eyes found the unknown quantity among them. He looked an awful lot like a younger Chief Rabeak! Oh stop, Kiimiti chided herself, averting her eyes. Not every alien looks alike, that's racist..