“There is a lot of carbon scoring on this panel, Spotter.”

Lieutenant Matt Brass walks around the perimeter of his Delta-class JV-7 Escort Shuttle. A far cry from the TIE fighters he usually pilots, these escort shuttles were much larger.

That means a longer exterior inspection.

Matt lets out a sigh. “Can we move to the cockpit yet, or should I get out my magnifier?”

Spotter, twists his shiny black head toward him, his lights blinking silently, until, “BWEEEP!” The droid let out an obnoxious sound that Matt knew meant something profane. He chuckled and continued his inspection.

The hanger of the Warrior II was quiet this shift – mostly droids bustling about, fueling ships, making repairs, and generally just looking busy. Everything moves so fast these days. Everything but this damn inspection.

Matt leans down to look Spotter right in the lenses, “Listen, droid. I know I’m old, but this is ridiculous. I’m moving to the cockpit. I need to be out past the force field in fifteen, no thirteen, standard minutes.”

Spotter begins to spout off again, but the pilot has already moved on. Entering the cockpit, Matt’s shoulders relax. He can smell a hint of burned plastic. “I hope that’s nothing too important,” he thinks to himself. It will have to wait. He can’t be late. Lorna would never forgive him.

He makes his way through the preflight check, almost mindlessly. This is a well-choreographed dance he has done so many times. Flipping switches, twisting dials, calling numbers out to Spotter, his mind is elsewhere. His mind is home, with his family. He glances at his chrono and picks up his pace, checking, reporting, checking, reporting, on and on.

Finally, as he wraps, his pings the crew chief. “LT Brass to Theta crew chief. You there, Calis?”

“Calis here. Thanks for the complete preflight, lieutenant. I know you’re eager to get out the door. Something about a reunion? You headed home on leave?”

Matt looks up from keying in his destination; looking up toward the empty space outside the force field. “Yeah. On leave. I won’t be gone long, but I need to hyper like, now.”

“Keep your pants on, Brass,” Lourin Calis is used to antsy pilots, but Lt. Brass is usually more calm and collected. She supposes it’s his advanced age.

“I’m sorry Lourin,” Matt starts, “It’s just…I need to get home. This is important.”

“Alright, Matt. You’re clear. And hey – be careful.”

A few more button presses and the shuttle’s engines whirr to life. Matt notices it sound like a purring loth cat. A giant, metal loth cat.

The hanger shields come down as Matt’s craft turns and slowly makes it way to the entrance. He looks out to the vast emptiness and guides the ship forward. As soon as the shuttle clears the hanger, the force fields come back online and Matt takes the shuttle out to more open space and keys in the hyperspace coordinates he knows so well.

Batuu.

Home.