Captain Zyrell Nalto sat at his desk, sipping coffee from a large porcelain mug. His computer terminal beeped quietly to indicate that he had received a priority mail, which he promptly opened to find a list of names and attached personnel files for the new recruits which would be arriving later that day. The usual mix of undercity gangers, political activists and backwater farm kids seeking adventure, but a few caught his eye. The Mandalorian piqued his interest, as did the Ithorian whom he had always been led to believe were a race of pacifists. Additionally, he made a mental note to fire whoever thought it would be a good idea to have a Wookiee and a Trandoshan arriving on the same shuttle. He quietly thanked whichever gods might be listening that the Rebel leaders hadn't assigned him to be a shuttle pilot before closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair.

The last few months had been something of a whirlwind for Zyrell: given command of his own ship, watched his homeworld reduced to rubble, handed over his ship to the Rebel Alliance and finally shipped off to Corellia to begin training the very people who it had previously been his job to root out and destroy. Stranger still, since his arrival on the planet the locals had been nothing but courteous and polite to him, seeming to have no real qualms about his days under the Imperial banner. It was an immense sign of pragmatism on the part of the Rebels. After all, anyone who had grown up on any civilised planet in the Galaxy knew someone who was a gunner on a Star Destroyer, or a file clerk in an Imperial office, or a security guard at an Imperial shipyard. The Empire was everywhere. The Rebels just appreciated anyone who was willing to join the fight against it.

"Captain!" A call came from down the hallway, the voice of one of the desk sergeants. "Our man at the spaceport has reported the shuttle broke atmo four minutes ago. Depending on traffic they should be here very soon."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Zyrell called back, his Imperial training reminding him to lock and check his terminal before even thinking about leaving the room. He pulled himself up to his full height, checked his uniform in the mirror, then made his way towards the door. Less than half way down the corridor, he turned around and came back. Had there been a speck on his right shoulder? He made sure to check it seven times from various angles before he was satisfied, then spent several more moments adjusting the pips on his collar. Once he was quite sure everything was ready, he made his way down to the landing pad just as the shuttle came sweeping into view from between two buildings, then circled around to land.

Kelim'tel was quiet on the ride to Corellia, for the most part. He had not taken any interest to the other cadets who rode with him, since he was too busy trying to understand the one of the two personal items that he took with him; a datacron. It's mysteries intrigued him, called to him. He would play it too himself over and over again, in his own corner of the ship, like some kind of delusional treasure-hunter. Few words left his mouth, other than a silent mumble, and an occasional, silent groan, as if he had misunderstood and had to re-do his entire hypothesis.

"The Force....what is it?" He would ask himself repeatedly, trying to understand what it meant. Was it an army? A divine being? Perhaps an ideology? Kelim'tel would never understand it, but knew that many people had used it long ago. He knew about Sith and Jedi, their eternal struggles against one-another, and even the betrayal of the Jedi(although false, as we all know.) He had learned these things through many adventures on his own. Yet, the Force was still an ambiguous word. 'What could it mean', he thought. Perhaps he would never know, he began to think. Something inside told him otherwise.

All this was quickly dispelled by the landing of the ship. The jolt spooked the boy into full-attention, forcing him to quickly hide the datacron in a small satchel that was on his side. Standing quickly, he grabbed his vibrosword and made his way over to the exit with the other fresh cadets. The Wookie ahead and the Trandoshan behind frightened him, but the Ithorian directly in front of him calmed his nerves a tad-bit. He looked all the way over to the back at the Mandalorian and Ex-Imperial Cadet, who he showed indifference to. Of course, the Mandalorian did keep him a bit wary, as he had also heard stories of the Mandalorians and their proud warrior culture. Taking a deep breath, he looked straight ahead, and calmed his nerves. "So, who here is ready?" He asked politely, waiting for a response.

The world around Arriaddik was in chaos. The stench of death and fire filled his nose. Bodies of his fellow Wooks were strewn among his path. Some of the bodies were holding on to their children and others were holding on to their weapons, attempting to defend their families. Stormtroopers were going house-to-house, taking out anyone who remained within their huts. It was a horrific massacre set before him.

"There's one! Blast him!" A trooper ordered his squad, they fired from across the bridge Arriaddik was going to make his way to. One of the bolts was so close to the Wookiee that it burned some of his fur down. He immediately took cover behind a make-shift barricade that previous Wooks made to defend themselves. Their bodies made claim to that. Arriaddik peered over the barricade with his bowcaster at the ready. He fired several shots at the troopers, taking one out and making the rest take cover. Blaster shots continued to go all around him, it seemed to be more than what started.

Silence. The hail of bolts had stopped. Arriaddik once again decided to look over the barricade, only to see several Wookiee warriors used the chance that he made for them, and took the troopers out. He was glad to see his fellows live and well, but he still had to keep going. He ran to the bridge, making his way down it. A terrible howling sound echoed throughout the village. Arriaddik turned his head to face the sound as he was running, but it was too late.

---

He shook his head, breathing heavily. "Don't go back." he thought to himself. It was several months ago when the Galactic Empire either enslaved or massacred the Wookiee population on Kashyyyk. Those whom were enslaved were sent to work on the Death Star or on cultivating food on Kashyyyk for the Empire. The once proud race of Wookiees were now reduced to nothing but animals.

Arriaddik looked over the other passengers. He was quick to notice the Trandoshan, he kept his back to the wall, in case the scum decided to clamp a collar around his neck. Trandoshans are ancestral enemies to Wooks. They have been fighting for centuries. Arriaddik wondered why a Trandoshan was joining up with the Rebellion, instead of hunting down fugitive wookiees for the Empire.

There was the Ithorian who wore a rather striking garment. Most were of the same kind, other than obvious Mandalorian, Arriaddik had encountered many who called themselves a Mandalorian in his life time, most of them were not particularly friendly. A man who was fascinated with himself in the corner made Arriaddik even more so on edge. Lastly, there was the woman who seemed more normal than the rest of her kind that was aboard the ship, but something about her drew his attention. The rest didn't peak his interest, they all seemed to be a mixture of what the Galaxy had to offer.

"So, who here is ready?"

Arriaddik looked at where the voice came over. It was the man who was fascinating himself. He got a glimpse of what that man was fascinating himself with, a datacron. He was rather familiar with these devices, for the Claatuvac Guild had used them. Which reminded Arriaddik of what he had on himself, some of rather high security and importance. It was kept inside a container that was clipped on his harness that he wore. Instead of answering the man, he simply waited for the ship's door, it was easier that way. Not many outside Wookiee's understood his language. He shouldered his bowcaster in readiness to disembark.

Warm air; clear skies; soft grass waving in the wind; the scent of distant prey only pushing the hunter further into the dense woods. Distant mountain ranges pierced through the heavens, their unscalable peaks serving as landmarks in the far horizon. The hunter spotted a Horned Kath Hound prowling through the tall grass, its slinking movements measured and cunning. The beast was a hunter just as much as he was. This would be an honorable kill.

The hunter took stride in his step, not bothering to conceal his movements. Worthy prey deserved its opportunity to fight. The Hound caught the hunter's scent quickly, rearing its large head in his direction. The Hound growled once, coarse dark fur on its back bristling in warning. The hunter responded, growling in return, a guttural noise deep in his throat.

Taking this as retort, the Hound reared for a brief moment before charging at the hunter, tusks pointed out like charged bayonets to skew him at any moment. With movement like the wind, the hunter hoisted up his hunting rifle, taking aim for all but a brief moment before large fingers pressed on the trigger, a loud crack cutting through the tense air, a bolt of energy flying at lightning speeds before landing square in the center of the beast's head, sending it toppling to the ground, sliding only a few brief seconds before stopping short; limp and dead.

The hunter approached the fallen beast silently, holstering his rifle upon his back before crouching down to examine the fell beast, procuring a Vibroknife from his hip. The skin and meat of the beast was to be taken, put to good use. The beast would not die for nothing.

The hunter wasted no time, and soon got to work...

---

Talen-Jei despised shuttles. On Thila, the whole planet was his to hunt on. The expansive plains, tall mountains, deep valleys; the planet belonged to him - if he only stayed to earn it. He felt no regret in signing on to join the Alliance. His soul had been tainted, marred by sentient blood, the blood of innocent beings. By joining the Alliance, he would fight for a cause. Kill to end killing - hunt...to save the galaxy; to restore his honor.

But on this ship, he couldn't be more tense. These walls, thick and claustrophobic were cold titanium and durasteel. No sound came except that from the ship's engine, and his snout was overwhelmed by the scents of those around him - his allies.

The Mandalorian - Mando'ade. Talen-Jei had heard of their warrior culture and military prowess. Brutal fighters and honorable hunters, clad in the thickest, most advanced armors; adhering to their clans and to their leader. The Mandalore. The girl was lithe, even underneath her shell of body armor. But her stance, even as she sat, her scent - a warrior, indeed. Talen-Jei felt he was going to like this one.

The Cadet was next....what was it, Cass-andra was her name? The girl possessed a fire, it could be seen in her eyes. She was quick-witted and sharp-tongued with a certain fondness for the mechanical. Talen-Jei never found much interest in droids or terminals. A droid could be programmed, taught how to act, how to behave. But a beast was wild; unpredictable. He found more enjoyment in taming a wild creature than dealing with the inner machinations of machines. He did not hate droids...No. There is nothing to hate in metal, steel, gold, or platinum. They would simply exist - just as he would exist.

The Archaeologist came after. He was young, like the others (youthfulness appeared to be a pattern within this group), and seemed notably polite - orderly. His friendliness intrigued Talen-Jei to a certain extent. Though it appeared to be genuine, Talen-Jei nonetheless felt it was not an inherited trait, but a manner he had learned over the course of his life. He was certainly talkative, which was not a bad thing in itself -- but certainly did not bring the anxious Trandoshan comfort in this small shuttle. The boy was fidgety, almost, playing with something undisclosed in his hands. Talen-Jei felt no need to pry. A man's business was his own, should he not wish to share that, it should be honored.

Perhaps one of the creatures who most stood out to him was the Ithorian. Though Talen-Jei's experience with the herding creatures was limited, their modest, polite mannerisms and pacifistic nature made one serving the Rebellion to be most curious. Talen-Jei felt no ill-will towards such creatures, but nonetheless found pacifism to be a hindering trait in a creature. To hunt was a base instinct. The rush of bringing down a creature, calling the kill your own. To distance yourself from that was to disconnect with your inner being.

Lastly, and most curiously, was the Wookiee. Talen-Jei felt a pang of guilt inside him as he saw the creature board the shuttle. If any man or woman had a reason to be here, a reason to fight - it was certainly the Wookiee. Talen-Jei was there the day the Empire took control of Kashyyk, witnessed the blood-thirst present in Human and Trandoshan alike, bringing down the mighty tree-dwelling beasts without pity. Those who resisted being clapped in chains were swiftly executed, moved onto the next one. He, himself had participated in such atrocities, bearing the name of 'Slaver' for some time. Talen-Jei knew that his father would be frowning down at him for his actions. He had betrayed all he had been taught. It would have been better to die with his honor intact and soul cleansed than live on as a monster.

Talen-Jei did not interact much with the Wookiee. Though he bared no ill-will towards the creature, he was not sure if the same could be said for his furred companion. The two species were ancestral enemies, with rivalries dating back hundreds, if not thousands of years. It was no question that bad blood was to be expected here. But the two now fought under one flag, one cause. A history of bloodshed could certainly be overlooked for the betterment of both kinds.

Finally, after an eternity of flying, the shuttle began to slow down, nearing its destination. Cocking his head towards the archaeologist, Talen-Jei could pick up the boy's mumblings, hearing 'The Force' amongst his words. Indeed, what was the Force? To Talen-Jei, it was something between an influence and a deity. Existing in all beings, connecting all life together; imbuing certain individuals with great power. To become the greatest of hunters. Talen-Jei held the Force in great reverence, for it was forever, and it was eternal. Perhaps the Force was the Scorekeeper, herself, her presence on the mortal plane.

When the shuttle finally landed, Talen-Jei slowly rose, forced to slouch as his great height meant his head was precariously close to bashing against the ceiling. His legs ached from being cramped so long, but he had experienced far worse pains; this was nothing.

Forming a small line with the rest of his companions, Talen-Jei remained generally indifferent, only turning to the archaeologist when he inquired as to whether the rest of them were ready.

"Talen-Jei is always prepared, Human." Talen-Jei replied simply. Though his words could be taken derogatorily, his tone was neutral, favorable even, as though he was merely making a general response.

"Empire is...easier to hunt. Humans are more predictable than beasts are. This hunt brings honor." Talen-Jei added with a small incline of his head before growing silent once more. The sooner their battle began...the sooner he could be cleansed of this guilt.

As the shuttle finally settled on the landing lad, the rear doors opened and the dozen or so passengers inside peered blinking out into the daylight. Zyrell waited patiently as a Sergeant walked over with a pair of guards and began barking orders into the shuttle, directing the startled recruits to form a line in front of their new commanding officer. Sure enough, the new arrivals slowly shuffled out of the confined space of the spacecraft and formed themselves into less of a line, more a horseshoe shape around Zyrell. In the back of his mind he was reminded of the sort of screaming that his own Drill Sergeant had issued when the cadets could not form a simple line, but he resisted the urge to let fly. After all, if his short time with the Rebellion had taught him anything, it would be that the Imperial way was not always the best one.

"Good morning, recruits. Welcome to Corellia. My name is Captain Zyrell Nalto and I am the encumbent Commandant of Aurek Base, tbe camp where you'll be put through your basic training. I expect for some of you, this will be a mere formality..." Zyrell paused for a moment, this last phrase seeming to be aimed towards Talen-Jei. He had worked alongside many a Trandoshan hunter in the past, and it seemed like the creatures where bred for combat. He had no reason to think this one would be any different, if his personnel file was even half true. He then sharply turned towards the Ithorian with a condescending smirk. "... for others, this will be a test of whether or not you have what it takes to fight for the cause. But worry not. If you are found to be unfit for combat, the Alliance still needs mechanics, doctors, shuttle pilots... every man and woman here will have the chance to make a contribution, one way or another. Sergeant Xesh?"

"Yes, Captain?" The Weequay Sergeant stepped forward, holding his rifle with one hand as he snapped off a sharp salute. Unlike Zyrell, he was wearing the urban camo variant of the Alliance uniform complete with helmet and carrying all of his field gear with him. The Sergeant always had the look of a man who expected a battlefield to erupt around him at any given moment, and today was no different.

"I'm sure their shuttle ride was long and cramped. Can you take them for a short run to shake off the cobwebs, then off to the barracks to get themselves settled in? I want them all down at the shooting range and ready for drills by 0900." Zyrell replied with a slight grin, relishing the ripple of a moan he heard rush through the crowd at the mention of running. He once again thought back to his own Academy days and how much he despised running laps. It was good to be the one in charge for a change.

"Aye, sir! RIGHT! YOU 'EARD THE MAN! STEP TO IT, MAGGOTS!" The Weequay barked as he and the two other soldiers took up their positions, herding the new recruits into something more resembling a straight line before jabbing them roughly with their rifles to get them moving.

Kalen Cadera had spent the shuttle ride sitting reclined in an aisle seat, her booted feet up on the headrest in front of her. Her helmet was sitting on the seat next to her and she seemed content to spend the whole flight tinkering with her blasters. She was very proud of her weapons and tended to spend quite a bit of time doting on them. Perhaps it was a Mandalorian thing. It might have also been because she had built the blasters from scratch, taking parts from multiple different models to ensure that these compact, modifiable, and powerful plasma slingers were the perfect instruments for Imp Hunting. The blasters had a stun setting of course, though she rarely found reason to use it.

As the Shuttle broke atmo, Kalen holstered her blasters and took a good look around at the people she was sharing the shuttle ride with. Trandoshan, Wookie, Humans, just about all of them looked like fighters. It wasn't that they were all militarily trained, but they all had a fighter's fire in their eyes. She recognised it in them because she recognised it in herself. The Empire had taken from these people, just like it had taken from her. No! She didn't allow herself to continue down that train of thought, there was nothing for her at the end of that path but pain. Kalen picked up her helmet and slipped it on, masking her expression. Still, she thought, if this was the sort that the Rebellion had attracted, she could understand why they had been so successful in the Battle of Yavin.

The Mandalorian pulled herself to her feet as the Shuttle landed and disembarked along with the rest of the other recruits. They all formed into a loose semi-circle around the man who was clearly in charge here and, while some simply stood around, she stood at ease, armored feet planted apart, back straight and hands clasped behind her back. She took the opportunity to study the Captain before her and couldn't help but narrow her eyes behind her helmet's visor as he spoke. His voice had the distinct and rigid formality of an Imperial, which didn't leave her predisposed to like the man. Of course, as he was her new commanding officer, she knew that it didn't matter if she liked him or not. The benefits of a militaristic childhood. The Moment that the Weequay Sergeant began screaming orders, seventeen years of training and instinct kicked in and Kalen snapped to attention, obeying the shouted orders without a moment's thought or hesitation.

The mention of a hunt was quite strange to Kelim'tel, considering he was from an entirely different culture. He did, however, understand that it was part of their culture. Didn't make it any less confusing of course. Still, he respected the Trandoshan's words, and went back to standing. At the sound of the Sergeant yelling, Kelim'tel balled his hands into fists, with a silent sigh. "Here we go." He mumbled under his breath, walking with the others outside into the new world that they would face.

After the introduction, which Kelim'tel paid some moderate attention to, the Sergeant barked once more. Kelim'tel was caught by surprise and quickly tried to regain his composure, moving along with the group. He was not used to this type of livelihood, seeing as he spent most of his life as a pseudo-smuggler and an archaeologist, preferring to do things his way. A jab would hit him in the rib, causing him to reel. "Hey hey easy there, I'm trying to catch up as fast as I can!" Soon, he would get used to the pace, and caught up with the others rather quickly.

Running was possibly the greatest advantage Kelim'tel had. He had no real combat experience aside from firing a blaster a few times and using his trusty vibrosword, which bobbed up and down on his back. Years of fleeing from large Imperial platoons and angry gangsters, as well as racing fellow excavators for ancient artifacts conditioned him quite well physique and endurance-wise. Kelim'tel would run ahead, passing the Ithorian, so he could catch up with the Wookiee, giving the lumbering creature a tap on the arm with the back side of his hand. He looked up at him, hoping to make some kind of conversation. "Hey big guy, I never got to introduce myself. The others seem kind of scary to me, aside from the Ithorian, and you were the first one I could catch up with because you're....y'know....big? Names Kelim'tel. How about you?" His tone was quite light, to give the Wookiee the impression and assurance that he was sincere in his greeting.

After the Weequay sergeant shouted for everyone to be on the move, Arriaddik was doing a slow pace. His feet thundered on the ground, kicking up dust. The wind was blowing through his hair, which was nice considering being stuck in a cramped shuttled for awhile. The view was alright too. It was overall refreshing to be on his feet. Too long was he on the run from something, now he is on the run for something. That thought made him smile slightly. There was hope. The Alliance could offer many things. A new future, a new life, vengeance. There was a light tap on his arm. He ignored it, thinking it was a rock he kicked up, until he heard a voice.

"Hey big guy, I never got to introduce myself. The others seem kind of scary to me, aside from the Ithorian, and you were the first one I could catch up with because you're....y'know....big? Names Kelim'tel. How about you?"

The Wook turned his head to face the voice. It was the man in the corner, he somehow managed to catch up to Arriaddik. It wasn't really a feat to catch up to him, he didn't really put effort into the run. He was more of a climber. He looked over the man, although Kelim'tel was friendly and soft, he frowned in return. He understood basic, but couldn't speak it. His vocals didn't allow him to speak such tongues other than his own. "Arriaddik." The Wook responded. To those who didn't speak Shyriiwook, he probably sounded like someone who was trying to growl while gargling water at the same time. He couldn't see any other way to communicate, so he flashed his teeth, trying to smile. He sighed heavily, letting his shoulders sag down.

Talen-Jei's bare feet made audible thuds as he stepped down the gangplank of the shuttle. He took more than a moment to breathe in the fresh, unfiltered oxygen of the planet, taking in its whole scent. Temperate forests and jungles, vast seas, open fields. A hunter could live here, spend the rest of his waking life challenging himself against the environment, dominating it with instinct and skill - to reach the top of the food chain not through right, but through might.

His thoughtfulness interrupted by the cut-in by a rather official looking dark-haired Human, Talen-Jei set his large yellow eyes on the man, taking a moment to breathe in his scent. The man was aged: old enough to be experienced but not impaired or infirm. His eyes were focused and intense, his stance rigid enough that it appeared a stray gust would snap him in half. This "Zyrell" was no hunter, but a soldier. Talen-Jei saw similar traits in the Stormtroopers who stormed the beaches and treetops of Kashyyk. They slaughtered not out of sadism or brutality. But because they were ordered to do it. Talen-Jei despised such motives for its apathy. Of course, Talen-Jei realized that he, too, would have to adopt such motivations. He was a soldier now for the Rebellion. But in his heart he was a hunter, and no man or beast could change that.

Talen-Jei did not react with annoyance upon hearing the recruits were to run laps. His limbs ached from being cramped in an unfitting seat for hours. To stretch his muscles would be a relaxant. As one of the Rebel soldiers jabbed his rifle into Talen-Jei's back, however, the Trandoshan let out a low growl of warning, turning his head to look at the soldier in question; who appeared to shrink back slightly. Amongst the recruits, Talen-Jei was easily one of the largest, standing at 2.1 meters with a broad, iron-like musculature. His physique was only bested by that of his Wookiee companion, whom nature had chosen to be the physical superior of the two species.

Growing silent, Talen-Jei followed the group with long strides, quirking the space above his eye where his "brow" would be as the archaeologist Kelim'tel approached the Wookiee for conversation. The small Human had confidence, Talen-Jei would grant him that. Whether that confidence would have apt results, however, remained to be seen.