Hurok

Leaning back in his pilot seat, Well Quin put his hands behind his head and smirked, "Number 50, record time."

Well almost lived alone on the surface of Hurok. There were, in fact, only 25 people on the entire surface. Well, 15 other trainees, 2 captains, and 7 people who didn't really have much of a purpose.

Well stepped out of the simulation room and went to his room to tell Denton, his room mate, of his success. He walked into his room, beaming. Denton was fiddling with some strategy game that Well could never understand.

"Well, what is it this time, Well? Number three-thousand-forty-two or something like that?"

Denton never had been fully appreciative of Well's abilities, and had a bad habit of using Well's name and the word "well" in the same sentence.

"Nope, number fifty."

"Well, you know, Well, normal people don't spend their life memorizing how to pilot a simulated Enforcer through whatever you're piloting it through."

"I don't memorize, I improvise. And normal people don't spend their life playing whatever it is you're playing."

"Hey, I'll have you know-"

But Denton never did have Well know, because at that time the "bell" sounded and Well and Denton had to go to their first class of the semester. Well never had figured out why the old Captain bothered to use an alarm system to call the trainees into class, since he could probably shout and all 16 of the trainees would hear him.


Mon Calamari

Tiklar Sendfar shook his big, fishy head sadly. This was terrible! And it probably wasn't the only instance, either!

Tiklar had just reviewed a report on Thisspiass about how the Coalition rescue teams were forced off the planet and the Imperial army was put in to oppress the few remaining survivors. At the time, the Coalition rescue teams were powerless to do anything but the Imperial’s bidding, but Tiklar didn’t see why it had to stay that way.

Being a central intelligence agent, Tiklar had the power to make sure something was done, and, he thought, it was time to exercise that power. Of course, there was some paperwork to do first. Tiklar planned to arrange a team of specialists to carry out the difficult task of saving Thisspiass. Arranging this team, however, would take a lot of work. Tiklar needed some of the finest people in the Coalition for this job.

Therefore, Tiklar took the time to hand-select a group of people from Coalition Intelligence. These people were to research which people would be the best for the job. Tiklar would be deciding exactly what form this job would take, since open assault was, of course, out of the question.

Hurok

"...And those are the ten simple rules of how not to get blown up by bigger ships. Remember, test on combat maneuvers tomorow. Dismissed."

Well packed up his things and stood up in synchronization with the rest of the class. It had been a long day at the academy. Simulation examinations always did manage to sap a person of their strength, and now Well had to study for his maneuvers test as well.

Stretching, Well walked the short distance to his room and promptly fell onto his bunk. He was just beginning to relax when, suddenly, he heard a beeping noise. The noise didn't fully register in his conciousness, however, and he had soon forgotten about it and begun to relax once more. Then, he heard the beeping noise again.

Well frowned and looked around. He hadn't heard that noise before. He heard the noise again, and this time noticed a red flash accompanying it from his desk. Mildly annoyed, he stood up to investigate.

Oddly, the beeping noise was coming from his communicator, which he had forgotten he even had. He had a message. How odd! He pressed the play button.

A small, blue, image of a Mon Calamarian appeared, with a friendly expression on its face. "Greetings, Well Quin," began the message, "This is the CIB, Central Intelligence Bureau, of the Galactic Coalition. You have moved up from your training! You have been given an assignment, should you choose to accept it, for the Coalition. Your superiors have been contacted with details and important information. Thank you! Have a nice day!"

Well scratched his head and played the message again.

It didn't change.

Well scratched his head and played the message again.

Gee, it sure seemed like they were trying to tell him that he had been recruited to actually USE these abilities that he had been training for several years.

Well decided to talk to the old Captain, since the message mentioned his "Superiors".

Several days later, Well Quin stood in a huge, modern building. Such vastness was unfamilier to him. Short corridors and small training rooms were mostly all that he had experianced in the past few years. Being himself, Well compared the size of the room he was in to the size of a Cicero corvette. He was impressed. He thought that two of the gunships, along with a good number of Kris figters, would be able to fit in the room if arranged properly.

Returning to reality, Well looked at the bit of paper that he was holding. Room 284a. Hmmm, that would be upstairs.

Well took the lift and, several minutes later, found himself walking awkwardly into a spacious office. There were three other folk seated around a table, one of which was blue, very large, and slightly scary. He stood out.

The two others were a Cerean female, who focused with severity on the Mon Calamari, and a strange three-eyed person the likes of which Well had never seen before.

An older Mon Calamari sat at the head and nodded to Well. This was, not suprisingly, the Mon Calamari that Frakutsk had seen in the recording.

Absently, Well nodded back.

The Mon Calamari adopted a matter-of-fact tone that reminded Well uncannily of the Captain from back home, "Well, now that we're all here, let's get started. This is the top-secret breifing for a mission that is, at least for now, designed to gather accurate information on the state of Thisspiass, ... "

Well sighed noiselessly and leaned back somewhat in his seat. He was in class again. He payed attension, mostly.