I'm good at shooting people, cracking wise, and pretending to know how to fight.

The expedition to Gyndine had left yesterday afternoon. Today, they had news. It was not good news.

"I saw him, Mical," Mira reported over the comm. Her voice was muted. "I know I did. Three shipyards out here have been hit in the past week. All massacres. My instincts are telling me he was there for at least one more of them. I know his handiwork anywhere."

Mical rubbed at his forehead. "When you say massacre," he began.

"I mean everybody in here is dead," Mira said. "Not that I'm going to cry over Hutt-spawn or anything, but... it's ugly."

He heaved a sigh. "What about the shipyard you entered this morning?"

"The one where I saw him? Yeah, that one's okay," she said. "We managed to flush out the gang that was clearing the place out. But he wasn't moving with them, at least not this time. I just caught him sneaking out an airlock."

"So we're not certain he's with them," Mical said slowly. "He may simply be tracking them. Much like ourselves."

"Maybe." Mira sounded dubious.

That... wasn't good. Mira was many things, but her instincts were almost always correct - it was only the details that took her time. Mical ran a hand through his hair. "Please keep me apprised," he said quietly. "If you saw him this morning, he cannot have gone far. Can you sense him at all--?"

"It's Atton." That one came quick. "You know what he can do. If he doesn't want to be sensed--"

"--he won't be sensed." It was a rare day that compelled Mical to exact unnecessary violence on anything, but he did now kick the wall, and-- "Ow."

"What was that?"

"... Nothing." Mical squinted down at his aching toe. "As I said, please keep me apprised. May the Force be with you."

May the Force be with them all.

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