Galactica
From TFC Galactopedia
Dramatis Personae
Ensign Jonathan Morgan (Chief of Operations, Male Terran Canis Lupus/Canis Familiaris hybrid) Captain Newton Harriman (Commanding Officer(CO), Male Terran Panthera Leo Krugeri) Commander Kayton Lewitt (Executive Officer(XO), Female Terran Oryctolagus Cuniculus) Lieutenant Commander Aris Saxo (Chief of Conn, Male Bajoran Suricata Suricatta) Lieutenant K'Ris (Chief of Sciences, Female Vulcan Mustela (Putorius) Furo) Lieutenant Commander Erian Dram (Chief of Tactical, Male El-Aurian Panthera Pardus Orientalis) Lieutenant Wilhelmina Barker (Chief of Engineering, Female Terran Canis Familiaris) Ingonyama Errom Robil (Owner and operator of Twilight Requiem, Male Corellian Panthera Leo Krugeri) Ingonyama Alisa Zaura (Errom's daughter, Female Corellian Panthera Leo Krugeri)
Prologue
Ensign Morgan's personal log, Stardate 50240.5: Yesterday it finally happened, I got my first assignment aboard a starship. Captain Harriman of the USS Galactica contacted me personally, and informed me that I would be the one to fill the task of Chief of Operations, manning the Ops station in the primary bridge crew aboard the Galactica. Hardly a week ago, I sat in front of him and his first officer, commander Lewitt, inwardly quivering in my uniform from anticipation, as they interviewed me. I felt like being in between the jaws of an antique vice and they were turning it tighter and tighter. I was stuck with the feeling for the rest of the day, I couldn't possibly think of why they would pick me, a fresh ensign, when there were hundreds upon hundreds of more experienced officers out there in the void of space. Then yesterday, when I received the message from captain Harriman, I thought at first that he was trying to say that I didn't make it, I was pretty shocked when he dropped the final question. It took me a while to get used to the idea of working on an actual starship, but I finally decided to accept the assignment. Now I'm finally going to be a real Starfleet officer.
Ensign Jonathan Morgan appeared onto the transporter platform within the shimmering column of the transporter beam, with his old-fashioned duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He was a tallish young dog-wolf hybrid with salt-and-pepper fur and clear blue eyes. He stood there, soaking in the feeling of the transporter room aboard the USS Galactica; the lights were dimmer here than in the large transporter complex he had beamed up from. When combined with the bluish gray bulkheads and navy-blue carpeting on the deck, the small room felt like being home again.
"Welcome aboard the Galactica, Mr. Morgan," a soft, low baritone voice said. "May I call you Jon?"
Jon's eyes dropped to see a tall male lion standing just a few steps off the small transporter platform. He looked like he had been born into his uniform; a touch of gray in his chestnut mane and creamy-yellow chin fur gave him the regal looks of a king, fitting perfectly into his duties aboard the ship. He was captain Newton Harriman, the commanding officer of the Galactica. Jon snapped into attention and uttered: "Yes, sir."
The captain cast a warm smile on his face and just watched as Jon stepped off the platform. Then he motioned towards the door and they stepped into a hallway and started towards the bow of the ship. For a while, there was a silence then the captain asked: "Have you had any breakfast yet?"
"No, sir," Jon replied. "I haven't."
"Well, that's good, because I haven't either, what do you say if we get you settled in and then head to the mess to have some?"
"Sounds good to me, sir."
"Well, sounds like we have a plan then."
The captain turned from a corner and Jon followed. Immediately after stepping into the corridor, Jon felt that something was wrong. The air was moist and filled with the soggy stench of rotten leaves and mud; the soggy carpet wasn't a carpet at all, the corridor had suddenly changed into a five-meter stretch of tropical jungle trail during a rain season. Jon was standing in the middle of a shallow dip in the path; his hindpaws were soaking in a brown-black watery mud that had settled between a pair of sturdy tree roots, with his pantlegs less than an inch away from the surface. Jon groaned in disgust as the captain turned to look what kept him. Harriman's brow dipped and his golden eyes closed as he sighed of frustration and said: "Computer, end program running in corridor 2C."
"Unable to comply," the computer said with a soft feminine voice. "Holosystem command processors malfunctioning in the specified region."
Harriman moaned softly and put out: "Computer, cut power to the holosystems in corridor 2C."
The jungle trail faded out into a standard corridor as the computer chimed softly to comply the order. Jon looked glumly at the remains of the replicated mud that was solidifying on and between his toes. He knew that everything in actual contact with a living being during a holosession was thoroughly replicated to make it seem more real. He was not happy to leave muddy pawprints on the carpet as he followed the captain down the corridor, even though he knew that the computer would remove it during the next cleaning cycle. He also knew that their breakfast plan would be delayed for about ten minutes because he would have to wash his paws before the could continue to the mess.
"I'm very sorry about that, Jon," The captain explained solemnly. "We had our EMH upgraded and ship-wide holosystems installed along with other computer and sensor upgrades. We're still trying to iron out all the chinks in the system."
"It's okay, sir," Jon said. "Its only mud, it'll wash out in a few minutes."
"I'll take you to your quarters and head for the mess, we can take a rain check on that breakfast tomorrow."
"As you wish, sir."
By the time they arrived to the door leading to Jon's quarters, the mud had dried and started to itch annoyingly. When the door swished open and the lights came on, Jon made a swift beeline for the sleeping area, plunked his duffel on the bed. He heard captain Harriman shouting something at the door before it swished shut, leaving Jon in the awkward pseudo-silence of the rhythmically humming warp core. On a ship of this size, the thrum of the Warp core was an omnipresent companion, and he knew that it was one of the things he'd have to learn to cope with. Jon hurried to the bathroom, grabbed the showerhead from the sonic shower and started cleaning his feet. In a few minutes the mud peeled off and the itching subsided. He thought of himself sitting there on the toilet seat, showering his toes with a sonic shower and allowed himself an ironic little huff and a smile. In his first few minutes on the ship he had been the victim of a malfunctioning system in a rather embarrassing way.
The doors to the bridge slid open with a slight hiss as Jon stepped to the bridge and took a cursory glance around it. Some of the bridge officers met his gaze, while others were concentrating on their duties. Captain Harriman wasn't there at the moment; a slight-but-fit floppy-eared rabbit with dusky gray fur and long fiery-red hair was sitting in the center seat. As the door closed behind Jon, she turned to look at him and offered a courteous smile. Jon knew her from the interview the captain had arranged barely more than a week ago; she was commander Kayton Lewitt, the first officer of the Galactica, and a trusted friend of the captain.
"Good morning, Mr. Morgan," she said. "I trust you had a hefty breakfast."
"Yes, ma'am," Jon complied with a slight smile. "I did."
"Good. Everyone, this is ensign Jonathan Morgan, our new chief of Operations."
Commander Lewitt went on to introduce the bridge crew; a tall-and-lithe meerkat with chocolate-on-cream fur and short black hair was at conn, which was in the deep recess between the fully holographic main viewer and separated from the command area by a couple of steps. Judging from the prominent and the traditional Bajoran earring, he was of Bajoran descent. He was lieutenant commander Aris Saxo, chief conn officer of the Galactica. He shot Jon with a crooked smile as their gazes met briefly. Jon nodded and managed to return a decent smile.
A distinctively sly-looking amur panther was at the tactical station, flanking the main viewer on the port bow quadrant of the bridge, he was silently surveying the idle readings of his instruments; as both the shields and the weapons were powered down at the moment, there wasn't much coming in. When he cast his deep-golden eyes at Jon, the young ensign noticed that they were of the exactly same mustard shade than his uniform undershirt was. There was also an old scar running down his left temple, starting just below his hairline ending just shy of his chin line. Jon suddenly became aware of the ancient wisdom in his eyes and the bright-white hair he sported; he was an El-Aurian, a member of a very long-lived race, whose homeworld had been assimilated and ravaged by the borg. He was the chief tactical officer of the Galactica. Jon felt a little gush of relief as the wise eyes drifted away, he felt that the look was a bit distracting when it was coming from someone who looked so similar to a terran.
A ferret was briefing a small flock of ensigns on the starboard upper gangway of the bridge. She was standing in front of the main science station, which at least outwardly looked like the starboard mirror image of the engineering station. She had a neatly groomed pelt of black-on-gray spotted fur and long ink-black hair she wore on a ponytail. Her high set, pointed ears and slanted eyebrows gave her the classic looks of a Vulcan although he seemed a little too aloof to be one. As her eyes rose from a padd to meet Jon's gaze, she cocked an eyebrow and issued a hearty smile. Jon managed to put up a nervous smile, as he was still trying to decide if his eyes were telling him the truth. She was lieutenant commander K'Ris, the chief science officer of the Galactica.
There was currently no-one manning the engineering station in the rear port quadrant of the bridge, but Jon deduced that the chief engineer was busy elsewhere, and had no time to spare just to monitor the engineering station on the bridge. He watched as the flock of ensigns dispersed from the science station and one of them went to monitor the vacant station, while the others exited the bridge through the starboard access.
After the introductions, Jon took his place at the ops station, which was situated in the forward starboard quardrant of the bridge, between the main viewer and the starboard access doors. Sitting down on the comfortable, tall-backed seat at the station. He was still trying to settle in on the whole ship, and now because of the changed bridge layout, he felt a bit a bit distracted. He glanced at his console and sent a system status request, and was utterly surprised when they came in almost immediately. Jon just sat there, looking at the readings as they came in.
"You in trouble, ensign?" he heard Aris say behind his back, as Jon glanced over his shoulder, he saw the conn officer keeping his chestnut-brown eyes on his console, trying not to look like he was talking to Jon.
"No, sir," Jon said hastily, keeping his voice low and his eyes on his readouts. "This thing is a little too fast for my taste, but I'll manage."
"Yeah, I know, it took me a while to get used to. You can call me Aris or Saxo, the only ones you need to call 'sir' are the captain and the commander."
"Okay, got it."
Aris went back to his duties, leaving Jon in the middle of an awkward pseudo-silence. Jon watched as the readings rolled to his consoles and almost jumped when a paw was pressed on his shoulder. He glanced back and saw captain Harriman standing there, the captain had entered the bridge without Jon even noticing it. He offered a comforting smile and said: "Relax, take a breath and go with the flow, Jon. You'll fit in just fine after a while."
The weight of the lion's paw left his shoulder. Jon sighed, feeling a bit easier about being the new guy; he turned back to his duties and checked and rechecked a few reports. For a while, there was the familiar pseudo-silence; the thrumming of the warp core was slightly less pronounced up here than in his quarters, but it was still there nonetheless, playing the bass for the odd melody of the soft warbling and bleeping of the consoles. Jon caught a glimpse of captain Harriman settling on the now-vacant command seat from the corner of his eye.
"Mr. Aris," He said, with a commanding undertone. "Take us out of orbit, plot a course to Starbase 211, warp four. Engage at will."
"Aye, sir," Aris put in with a touch of compliance.
A shimmer in the front area of the bridge caught Jon's eye, he glanced up to see the star-studded velvety depths of the space, acting as a backdrop for the shimmering blue-and-green orb known as the planet Earth. It filled abut half of the screen, and as he watched it silently revolving around its slightly tilted axis, he realized that he was looking at it for the last time in many years.
For a while the Galactica almost hung there in place, drifting peacefully away from the planet. Then it started gaining speed on an ever-increasing scale. The planet behind started to shrink away faster and faster, then suddenly, the ship seemed to stretch like a rubber band and streaked away like a shooting star, moving faster than anyone about five centuries ago would have believed to be even possible.
Jon heard the portside access doors swishing open and glanced that way, seeing a Scottish deerhound stride in with a large padd in her hand; she had a shaggy salt-and-pepper fur and her dark chestnut eyes were looking at the padd under a set of coarse eyebrows. She went to the engineering station and relieved the ensign there; it was more than clear that she was the chief engineer of the Galactica. She caught Jon watching and asked: "What ar'ye lookin' at, laddie?"
"Nothing, sir," Jon replied hastily, putting up a nervous smile. "I'm sorry."
"Nah, there's nuttin ta be sorry about, lad. Lieutenant Wilhelmina Barker or Willie for short, at yer service."
"I'm ensign Jon Morgan, but you can call me Jon. I had a little encounter with a glitch in the holosystems."
"Ah, so yer the young fella the cap'n was talkin' about. I suppose ya got the muck out yer paws?"
"Yes, I did."
"Well, tha's good ta hear. Ye give me a howler if ye get yerself inta trouble again."
"I will."
There was a groan as the ship suddenly lurched under its crew; the warp core roared hoarsely and went silent while a cacophony of alerts blared from numerous consoles around the bridge. The alert klaxons took off with a veeping moan as the lights went out and changed to the crimson hue of red alert. Jon felt a sinking feeling in his stomach and grabbed his console when all standing personnel on the bridge went down on the deck, sending a few PADDs skittering across the dark carpet. On top of all of this, captain Harriman barked: "Status report!"
"The warp core is offline," Jon responded after glancing his instruments, raising his voice over the noise. "The warp field has dissipated safely, we're being pulled into a wormhole of some kind..."
"Drop the alert, will you. I can't hear a thing in all this racket."
Jon tapped a few keys on his console and cut the blaring klaxons off. In the resulting silence Captain Harriman held a little pause to give the fallen crew a chance to regain their footing. Then he started again, with a more subdued tone of voice: "Now that we have a silent moment, could someone please explain this?"
"We appear to have collided with the event horizon of a wormhole while in warp," K'Ris said after briefly studying his readings. "The impact destabilized the warp field, caused an emergency warp core shutdown to initiate and dropped us out of warp. We appear to have traveled through the wormhole, and started drifting as soon as we exited it. We're not in any danger of collision, although there is a loose asteroid field just in the fringes of sensor range."
"Can you pinpoint our location?"
"No, sir, the star formations around us don't match any of the patterns we have in our stellar database."
"Can you detect any trace of the wormhole?"
"Yes, sir, it has a clear verteron signature on our sensors, the wormhole appears to be stable, at least for now."
"Are there any vessels nearby?"
"Negative, sir, but long range sensors are offline, so I cannot be certain."
"Very well, try to get them online as soon as you can."
"Yes, sir, I will try my best."
Alisa sat boredly in the cockpit of the Twilight Requiem, keeping an eye on the instruments from the corner of her eye, and staring out to the velvet void of space with glazed out eyes, watching as a few small asteroids drifted by in the loose asteroid belt. She was a young lioness, barely fourteen standard years old. She was clad in a worn, brown jumper and a pair of utility pants with several pockets. As her bored-to-the-bones look swept across the instrument console, a flash of light in the semi-circular viewport caught her eye. She squinted her eyes and saw the light wink out, leaving a sliver of silver drifting in space. Kiara jumped up from the large chair and bolted through the cockpit hatch into the corridor shouting: "Dad! Daa-ad!"
There was a swish of a bulkhead hatch at the end of the hallway, as a lion stepped out of the crew quarters. Errom was tall and muscular in stature, with a well-groomed chestnut-brown mane; few thin braids were drooping over his right eye. He yawned mightily and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He was clad in a white web-top and a pair of worn-blue utility pants.
"Didn't I tell you to stay in the cockpit and watch the instruments, young lady?" Errom asked, his deep voice resounding in the corridor.
"Yeah you did." Alisa replied. "There's something out there, dad."
"Oh, probably just a flock of mynocks. They're known to lurk in asteroid fields, looking for ships to feed on."
"No, its not mynocks, I saw a flash of light and I think it left a ship behind."
"A ship? Couldn't be, this system is pretty far from any official hyperspace lanes. Oh well, we might as well go take a look, maybe they're in trouble or something."
Errom made a beeline into the cockpit with Alisa in his wake and settled into the pilot's seat, flipping a few switches. Alisa set herself down in the copilot's seat and peered out the viewport, looking for the silver sliver that presumably was a ship. The Twilight's sublight engines started up with a rumble and Errom took the ship out of the asteroid field, the moment they were out Alisa spotted the drifting ship, pointing it out, but not saying anything. His father acknowledged it with a nod, he had already seen the ship and altered course to intercept it.
"Punch up a sensor reading, will you." Errom said.
Alisa did as she was told, her eyes widened as she saw the data and she took a short breath. Flicking a couple of switches, she put the data into the central screen on the front console. His father was equally stunned about the data, but managed to say: "I've never seen readings like that, this ship of yours isn't from around here."
After a coupler of minutes the alien ship had grown large enough for its shape to show and it kept steadily growing until it filled the crescent of the viewport almost completely. Errom brought the Twilight into a parallel course and peered out the side window of the cockpit, mumbling: "The guy who designed her certainly knew his job well, I have to say..."
"What do you think those markings on the hull mean, dad?" Alisa asked.
"I don't know, but I'd think they must be some kind of a name and a registry number perhaps."
"Let's call 'em and ask."
"Put the comm on wide-band, at least they should hear us. Were practically close enough to bang their hull with a hammer."
Alisa flipped a few switches on the comm panel while her father put on his headset. The young lioness nodded and Errom started to speak: "Unidentified ship, this is Twilight Requiem, please respond if you can hear me. If you cannot transmit, please flash your running lights."
There was a brief moment of silence and then Errom repeated his message. Alisa had her eyes on the ship in case those aboard would send a visual response. The ship looked like nothing she had seen before, with it's pseudo-circular saucer section and backswept, long and angular engine pods it looked like a beautiful sculpture, it's hull was almost smooth, except for a few metallic squares rimming the saucer. These squares looked like they could be sensor pallets or something.
An insistent bleeping sound alerted Jon, while he was getting reports from all over the ship. He checked it and found out that the short-range sensors had picked up a ship of completely unknown configuration. His brow furrowed as he rechecked the readings and came to the decision that this was something real, not just a glitch in the sensors. The ship had appeared into the sensors beyond their range, so he didn't know where it came from.
"Sir," He put out, with a stern tone. "There's a small ship on the sensors, I cannot get an ID, but it's carrying some cargo, so I think it's a freighter."
"On screen." Harriman said.
Jon routed the visual sensors to the main screen and a squat saucer appeared before the crew, the ship had been painted a very dark blue, but it still was visible against the backdrop of space. Its craggy surface was filled with sensor equipment and pocked with several charred blast marks and scarred with an amount of scratches that would have made any known ship designer weep in tears.
"That's not a ship," Aris put in with a crooked smile. "That's a flying junk heap."
"Maybe so," Harriman said with a humorous huff. "But it still carries a crew we have to deal with and at this point I'm grateful for any help we can get."
A second bleeping sound at Jon's station caught everyone's ear. The young ensign hit a few keys and found out that the ship was sending out a signal, on a strange frequency, but it was still there. He relied the information to the captain and received an acknowledging nod with a command: "Put it on screen."
"It seems to be audio only, sir," Jon said.
"Let's hear it then."
Jon patched the signal to the bridge speakers; at first there was only static, but then a low male voice came in from the middle of static, still partially garbled and weak. It was saying: "...ship, this is Twilight Requiem, please respond if you can hear me. If you cannot transmit, please flash your running lights."
There was a slight pause and the voice repeated the message. Captain Harriman's brow dropped and his eyes narrowed, as he thought for a while and then asked: "Can we answer that?"
"Yes, sir," Jon replied with a wisp of certainty in his voice. "We can, the reception in their end won't be much better than what we get from them, but at least it is serviceable."
"Patch me in, then."
"Aye, sir."
Jon opened a channel on the frequency the signal was coming in and prayed that it would work. If the two technologies were as different as it seemed, one could expect a few problems on any area. He nodded to the captain to give a sign that the channel was ready.
"Twilight Requiem," Harriman started. "This is captain Newton Harriman of the Federation starship USS Galactica. We're receiving you, may I ask to whom I am talking to?"
"Glad to hear you, captain." The voice said, getting a bit garbled along the way. "I am Ingonyama Errom Robil, the legal owner and operator of the Twilight."
"Ah, you're an independent trader."
"You could say that, yes."
"Mr. Robil, would you care to join me aboard my ship, I would like to hear a bit about you and this area we're in."
"Excuse me, but your ship is about four times as big as mine is so your docking bays are way too small for my ship, and I'm not reading any docking hardpoints that are compatible with my ship. I don't fancy suiting up for a little space walk either, so how do you think you can get me onboard?"
"I have my ways, Mr. Robil, trust me on this. Be ready in five minutes, preferably in a clear area."
Harriman signaled Jon to cut the signal, and a few seconds later the channel closed, cutting out Simba's queries for an explanation. It seemed to Jon that the captain didn't want to give Simba the answer until he was safely onboard the Galactica, with his possible recording devices safely in the security lockup.
"Lewitt," Harriman put out, picking himself up from the command chair and starting for the door. "The bridge is yours. Jon, come with me, let's go meet our new friends."
"Yes, sir." Jon said, taking off from his seat and meeting the captain at the door.
With that, they stepped off the bridge.
Errom stood in one of the Twilight's cargo bays. This one was only half filled with multiple types of cargo crates ranging from small, pressurized kegs of Bacta to larger rectangular containers with other medical supplies in them, stacked neatly together and bound to the worn metal deck with cargo webbing. He had changed his usual attire into something more dignified, a pair of dark pants with the traditional Corellian bloodstripe running down the outside of the pantlegs, a clean white collar shirt and a black Nerf leather vest. He had thought of strapping on his heavy blaster pistol, but had abandoned the thought, in case it would seem hostile to show up armed aboard an unknown vessel. The deck plates in the corridor outside rang with running footsteps and suddenly Alisa popped in to the cargo bay. As soon as their eyes met, Alisa's running steps dwindled down to a forced walk. She had put on a dark purple sweater and a pair of blue jeans. She wasn't particularly happy coming into the cargo bay in her best clothes, but her father had insisted that she would come as well. They had put R2-X3, Errom's astromech droid in control of the Twilight, with orders to fly away if the Galactica started firing at it.
"Dad," Alisa put out. "Why do I have to go?"
"Because you're more safe out there with me if they start firing guns at us." Errom said glumly.
Suddenly, Errom felt a tingling feeling and the cargo bay faded into a stream of sparkling blue-white light and the metal floor vanished under him. Simba almost gasped, but found out that he was unable to breathe. Before he started to wonder what was happening, he found himself standing on a glowing platform in a small room, with bluish walls and a dark blue carpet, and that he was breathing too hard. Standing near the platform was a lion in a black uniform with a gray shoulder mantle. His figure brought up a memory of Errom's own father, Droman, who had been a Rebel officer during the war against the Empire. He was pretty obviously the captain he had talked to over the comm. There was a dog-wolf standing beside the captain, wearing a similar uniform, except that his had a mustard collar with only one rank pip, while the captain had a crimson collar with four pips. Moving cautiously, with slow, unthreatening moves, Errom stepped off the platform, sizing the pair up with his eyes. Alisa came in his wake, shuffling nervously onto the soft navy carpet. She could feel the tension in the air and acted accordingly in order to not provoke an attack.
"Mr. Robil," The lion said extending a paw to greet him. "I'm captain Harriman, and this is my ops officer Ensign Jonathan Morgan. I'm assuming you are a bit confused, but I assure you, you will not be harmed."
"Actually, its 'Mr. Ingonyama', but you can call me Errom." Errom corrected courteously, taking the paw and shaking it.
In a matter of seconds the tension was relieved, and everybody eased up a bit. Errom glanced casually around the room, briefly locking eyes with the officer standing behind a control console of some kind. She was a gray fox, with silvery-gray fur and dark paws; there was a set of ridges up the bridge of her muzzle between her durasteel-gray eyes. Errom offered a courteous smile, which she countered shyly and dropping her gaze back onto her controls. Alisa brushed lightly against him, while coming into view from behind him. The captain's eyes met with the girl's, and he offered a hearty smile.
"May I ask who this attractive young lady is?" The captain asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Errom said. "This is Alisa, my daughter."
"Nice to meet you, sir." Alisa mumbled nervously as they shook hands.
"Now that the introductions are over, shall we go to my quarters and have something to drink while we talk."
"Sounds good to me, captain."
"Please, call me Mike. Would it be okay if ensign Morgan would take Alisa on a tour, while we talk?"
"That's fine. She usually just gets bored when I discuss business with someone."
"Very well, then. Shall we go then?"
Errom nodded his compliance and the captain led him out of the transporter room. The door swished shut after the pair, leaving Alisa and Jon standing side by side near it. The ensign's eyes met briefly with the girl's, he smiled courteously, but the young lioness still seemed a bit wary, her golden eyes were watching Jon with a touch of fear.
"Hi, Alisa." Jon said softly, trying to make Alisa feel more at home. "You can call me Jon if you want to. Would you like to see where we come from?"
The girl just nodded shyly. Jon extended a paw, watching as Alisa carefully took it. They stepped into a corridor outside the transporter room and started for the nearest turbolift. When they stepped in and the doors slid shut, Jon used the manual controls to select their destination, instead of just stating it aloud. He felt Alisa tug his sleeve.
"Where are we going?" She asked as he turned to look at her.
"We're going to a place called stellar cartography," Jon explained. "It's a room we use to view and study star charts that are stored in our computer core."
"Do you have Corellia in there?"
"No, I don't think so. Is it your homeworld?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I was born there."
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