In an anonymous city on Courkrus, two equally anonymous figures made their way towards a small spaceport.

“Another day, another planet saved thanks to our valiant efforts.”

“Must you always be so blithe about everything?”

“Well, one of us has to be... you've got that brooding down to a fine art, so the duty falls to me.”

Grace Van-Derveld sighed and shook her head. For being the so-called Director of an entire department of the Rebel Alliance, Dasquian Belargic seemed to view life from a surprisingly whimsical point of view, one that his longtime – and long-suffering – partner in crime could neither understand nor share. They had traveled to the Auril Sector with the relatively simple intention of securing some contacts within a local pirate faction, but the whole affair had escalated, as it often seemed to do around the pair, into something much greater than that. With all their loose-ends tied up, and the job for the day done, they were now planning to head back to headquarters for some well-earned rest. That was the plan, at least...

As they walked through the busy area surrounding the spaceport, Dasquian became vaguely aware that they were being watched. Whoever was doing the watching either wanted them to know they were under surveillance, or was simply too much of an amateur to realize that they were doing a very bad job of tailing the duo. “I think you've picked up some admirers,” he said, nodding casually towards a pair of notably shifty looking men following a short distance behind.