Pain Demands to Be Felt

[Joza Perl]

Kaeshana, for what it was worth, had torn her up inside and out. Broken ribs, bruised wrist and a nice new laceration running vertically up her chest, too close to the heart for comfort. The nice pink synthflesh that covered her left arm had been burned in several places, altogether torn away eventually to reveal the stark metallic surface of her cybernetic prosthesis. Years of learning to work with it made the phrik limb dexterous, but she never got quite used to seeing the naked components of her inorganic arm. It was weird. Everything felt weird. Joza was not out of place on the battlefield during a confrontation, but there was always this nauseous feeling that lingered after the adrenaline died down.

Having people under her own command only made it worse. She went into this knowing that some of them weren’t going to make it, but it didn’t make the losses any easier on her. Failure weighed heavily on the Zeltron’s shoulders as she shambled her way around the medical bay, seeing to her wounded. There wasn’t much she could do beyond provide the comfort of pheromones, given that she was no healer. Even as the reports of casualties rolled in, she did her best to seem stalwart and reassuring. But smiling took a lot of energy that she didn’t have, and the rings around her eyes and the crinkle of her mouth were indicative that the good mood was forced.

She turned down a corridor, and then another, and another until the people gradually began to disappear and she was alone. It was so suffocating, being in that sterile environment with the medical droids prodding at her with their tools. Not that way.

Reaching under her shirt, she pulled the contraband from beneath the waist band of her pants: a bottle of beer and a half empty smashed pack of cigarettes. Hanging around with the Outback smugglers had its undeniable advantages, and her condition was not dire enough to warrant a more intimate inspection. She uncapped the drink, taking a healthy swig while bracing herself against the wall with her arm. The bottle left her lips and she gasped in satisfaction as the buzz entered her system. Probably not the best thing to be doing with all of the painkillers in her system, but oh well. She could deal with the ache in her ribs and the sprain of her wrist, but what she needed was to numb her mind.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

It had been a gorram mess.

First stages of the battle had been alright with him mostly sticking to the fringes. Picking off strays and other vagrants that were trying to bite at their heels, but at some point his overview over the field tipped him off on movement. Detachment of stormtroopers and one officer, they had ambushed them, given them fething hell and then some, until eventually Locke found himself in a ditch with the officer.

They fought. Them and some greenhorn with strangely-picked apart armor.

He survived... obviously, but it left him cut-up, bruised, broken and tired. Only a firm will to live and his legendary stubbornness had allowed him to crawl away from that battle in the end, karking [member="Mao"] broken and blown apart, it had been a mess. Together they managed to get their way back to the backlines, before the medics took over from there.

Much of it was a haze of painkillers, bacta and way too much prodding to be of any comfort to him.

That was then though and now was now.

One arm was in a cast, the other was leaning heavily on a cane. Had to use a refresher though, so that was what he was coming back from as he rounded a corner and came face-to-face with a familiar face again.

"Drinking on the job, Perl?" He grinded out, while keeping up his pace. "Thought I was the alcoholic in our relationship."

Grimace of pain passing as a smile.

 

[Joza Perl]

“Mhm,” She hummed without missing a beat, lips grazing the rim of the bottle. “Liquid therapy. The painkillers only do so much, ya know?”

She took the time to look him over, tucking away the pleasant surprise that surfaced in her mind. It came as no shock to see him here, but it seemed that they had a knack for running into each other. This time had been less convenient than the last, unfortunately. Her gaze lingered on the cast for a moment before moving down to the cane and then back up to his face, catching the twinges of distress in his smile. They were both dinged up from battle, but nothing that time and bacta couldn’t heal. Still, she was happy to see that he’d made it out.

She’d kept a list of those who hadn’t. The sniper girls, the TKO mercs. Contacting their families, or whoever they had, would be hard.

Joza pushed off from the wall, wincing as the pain in her ribs flared to life again. Not much she could do about that, sadly. “Glad to see you’re alive and well, Locke. Assets intact I hope?” Her voice held a note of mirthless humor, as she glanced down, eyes dipping below the belt briefly. She was tired and it showed. The Zeltron lacked the time to make herself up all nice and pretty like usual, but the spark in her eye was still there, flickering away. The cybernetic hand reached out to him, bottle tilted in its grasp. “Drink?”

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

"Is that all I am to you? A pair of walking balls on a stick?" Locke teased gently, before carefully taking hold of the bottle. He scrutinized it for a moment through his grimace and realized it was really tempting.

Which was probably why he returned the bottle two seconds after.

"Nah, gotta feel the pain, makes it more real for me."

It would remind him of all they had lost today, of the opportunities untaken, of yet another war raging for feth-all of reasons. It was frustrating and gorram infuriating, but at the end of the day he was just a grunt. Just a little cog, even if a slightly more important one than others. The SIS took care of its own, but that didn't make him deaf to the others around.

"I was just returning to my quarters, feel free to tag along."

The SIS agent nodded to her and then started gracefully (not) trundling past her. He wasn't getting used to the cane though, that thing was annoying as all kriff, but Locke didn't want to get used to it either. Up on his feet, soon.

Very soon. He or they would turn the left -- whereas she had come from the right -- down the hall and the door at the end of it. Isolated, peaceful, just the thing a senior agent was given.

Comfortable for him, but Elly wondered how many wounded could have fitted there.

Doors were unlocked and made way towards a spacious room. Big windows. Bigger bed.

 

[Joza Perl]

“I’ll take that as a yes.” A grin tickled her lips for a few moments at his response. After all that had happened, at least they were able to conjure up a bit of humor between them. That helped more than the alcohol—probably, maybe. It was difficult to tell with the cocktail of drink and painkillers in her system.

She polished off the bottle and held it loosely by the neck, falling in step slightly behind him. His answer surprised her a bit, given what had happened on Kaeshana. Maybe he was one of those who liked to feel every emotion in its raw intensity, but that sort of thing became exhausting for an empath. Especially so considering the losses on the battlefield. Feeling the life drain from your comrades, your friends left a feeling in the pit of her stomach that would linger for a while. It was a nauseating sensation at best.

Following him into the room, she let out a low whistle. “Nice digs. Must’ve done something right, Locke.” Joza wasn’t a military type, but the quarters she’d been assigned to as a Padawan were…humble at best. The Knights and Masters, even as Jedi, tended to have more comfortable living spaces. She imagined that the same must have been relatively true for SIS, and it got her wondering idly just where Locke was on the food chain.

“I’ve got smokes, too.” She placed the empty bottle on a nearby surface—fully intending to dispose of it later, mind you—before retrieving the nearly finished pack of cigarettes from her waistband. “Want one?”

They were alone before, but now they were in private. Something about that triggered a more intimate response in her, but perhaps it was just the flood of emotions pressing closer to her mental barricade, threatening to burst the dam. “You manage alright out there?” Her voice lowered, almost softening a bit. There was a rough edge to it, suggesting that she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of Kaeshana.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

Locke took a cigarette with a nod of thanks, lightening it up and letting the first smoke blow out with a cough.

His lungs were still all manners of karked up from the fight, but that didn't mean he would refuse a tasty cigarette. Carefully, with caution that annoyed him for its necessity, he lowered himself to his bed and laid down. Everything ached more when resting for some reason. Probably because you learned to ignore crap when you were busy doing something, but the moment you just let yourself relax for a moment?

Everything came back again.

"All I've done is survive when better men died." Locke mumbled out from between the stick, while studying the curious angles the smoke made when curling. "As for the battlefield?"

"Was alright when it first started- kept to the fringes, kept the hellfire from you and Elpsis, then I got tangled up in close-quarters with this imperial officer and his henchmen."

Locke grimaced.

"Wasn't a good one, as you see. You?"

 

[Joza Perl]

If the situation had been different, perhaps a cheekier Joza would have cozied up to him on the bed or slipped into his lap. But they were both injured and exhausted, so she took it upon herself to lay her upper body down onto the bed before scooting the rest of herself beside him. She was closer to the edge of the mattress, giving him his space for the time being. A sigh of satisfaction slid past her lips as the pressure was taken off of her injured ribs somewhat, giving her temporary relief. Standing was annoying, and walking was even harder. Nothing vigorous for at least a few weeks, the doctor had said after administers a corticosteroid injection to the affected site. Her eyes rolled upwards in realization at that thought. This isn’t going to go anywhere fun, is it?

Surprisingly, she didn’t mind.

She did frown at Locke’s words though. Better men died. A cigarette was slotted between two pink fingers, but she seemed to think twice about lightning it. Would make it harder to breathe, after all. “Not a good, one no.” She muttered, toying with the cancer stick in her hand.

“Fought a Sith guy. Roughed me up some, ended up swatting me away from him towards the end and broke some ribs.” She’d leave the almost literally crushed my heart part out of it. “He dipped out. Didn’t seem to mind taunting me about some of my girls that he killed beforehand, though.” Her teeth grit, just for a second before her jaw relaxed. Control and Joza Perl were not synonymous, but the Zeltron had worked hard over the years to do what many others could do naturally. As such, she had precision over most of her baser emotions and rarely had violent outbursts anymore.

Having a kid helped. She didn’t want Alan to grow up seeing his mother in emotional fits all the time.

Still, a wave of unfiltered grief crashed into her just at the mention of her girls. Bright, happy girls. They trusted her. She was being pulled back and forth. How can you keep doing this if losing people makes you feel this awful?

“I’ve never fought the First Order before.” She rubbed at her eye, trying to wipe the exhaustion from it to no avail. “Some of my boys in the Outback came back…not the same.” Her free hand clenched the sheets, twisting them between her fingers. At least the Sith eventually put his victims out of their misery, but that wasn't much of a comfort.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

Locke thought about that for a while.

"That's the Sith way, innit." He then responded with a cough of pain. "Get under your skin, your head, push and pull at your emotions, until you dance at their tune and cannot recognize yourself anymore."

Sith-Killers, special operative group from before the days of the SIS. Few people knew the origins, even fewer knew the true names, but suffice it to say that Elly knew all there was to know about killing a Sith. Or a Jedi for that matter- that was the thing they never counted on, that the same techniques and methods you learned, could be used against their staunch protectors.

Were more than a few of his colleagues who turned cloaks during or after.

They had to hunt them down as well. No good times, but that would explain why the black ops group was buried and killed, before it could come back to haunt anyone of the leadership involved.

"They will need help." Elly finally added, after she mentioned the boys with their issues. "Killing changes ya, seeing yours killed? Same deal. Getting tortured or seeing yours tortured, might be even worse."

He took a long pull from the cigarette, letting the smoke cloud him, before blowing it out.

"I will pull some strings, get them the help they need."

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza snorted, sincerely thinking of lighting the cigarette. It would be worth it in the moment, but her lungs would not thank her later. Nor would her ribs. Still, she held off for the time being, the secondhand smoke from Locke’s cigarette enough to trigger some sort of Pavlovian level of calmness. “He wasn’t that good.” And I’m not that soft. Well, she was—but not for him. Not for what she’d assumed to be a one-time deal on the battlefield with some nameless Sith. “Maybe if I’d been a fresh faced Apprentice plucked from the stage of Zeltros, yeah. Didn’t work for him much in the fight, but I can’t deny that it doesn’t sting some now. Those girls were good.”

She paused, allowing her mind to travel back for a few seconds and relish some faceless memory with the sniper girls. They loved to laugh, smile and tease. They were like sisters, or at least they fought as such. Cheeky girls.

The recollection was over as soon as it happened, leaving Joza to wonder if she’d said too much. That thought too, was brushed aside quickly. Green eyes flickered over to Elly and a brow arched softly before falling again.

“Thank you, Locke. That’s kind of you.”

She was honest, because really, she didn’t know what to do with them. She was used to providing aid to the enslaved, counseling them through their emotional turbulence as they transitioned into free life. War crimes were a different matter with witch she was largely unfamiliar.

“They didn’t see eachother get tortured.” It was a nuance, but she didn’t care. “They were blinded with fire.” She shifted a bit on the mattress so that she was partially on her side, facing him. “Put these jagged lines in their forehead with a blade, four of each.” The thumb of her cybernetic hand would drift over her own forehead in a short horizontal line before repeating the motion slightly below the first, going on to mimic the four slice wounds before the prosthetic limb fell away from her face. “Said it was equivalent to how many crimes the Alliance had done against the Order.” She almost snorted again, but it wouldn’t feel right. Sure, they were paid mercenaries, but they weren't fighting for a cause close to their heart.

Joza turned onto her back again, eyes gazing up towards the ceiling. “I just don’t get it.”

She did get it. She just didn’t want to get it.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

But they heard each other tortured.

Felt it on their skin.

Saw the last flick of light disappearing as fire loomed in their eyes and burned them out. This wasn't some backwater town with no access to technology or space-flight, of course, they would regain their sight. Cybernetics, bacta and kolcta, they would be fine physically. But that did little for the mental damage sustained from the things they were put through.

He looked on as she showed what they had done, before closing his eyes and just resting for a moment.

The smoke cleared his mouth and went outside again.

"I do." She did too, if she was really honest with herself, but this wasn't the day for honesty. This was a day for forgetting. Shame Locke wasn't the one to forget crap like that, he let it all in and let it fester and hold tight.

It was the least he could do for those who weren't with them anymore.

"Cheer up, Perl." Elly opened one eye and looked at her, smirk pulling now again. Moment of introspection gone. "I am the gloomy one of the two of us, remember?"

"What's next up for ya?"

 

[Joza Perl]

A faint smile tickled her lips, it had to with the way he smirked at her. She could keep up a cold, calculated front when she needed to in battle, but it wasn’t worth the effort to raise her guard here. Nor did she feel the need to particularly. Locke didn’t seem to be the type to put on airs or anything of the sort, either.

She tisked. “That’s not fair. You, the gloomy alcoholic, shouldn’t get all of the fun.”

Joza didn’t have the compulsion to hold onto pain, not when she’d felt everything so clearly as it happened. Well, not clearly. The death of her girls and the agony of the mercenaries were felt through a filter of sorts, something she’d cultivated through years of training. It was a necessity for an empath, lest her emotions eat her whole during a crucial moment. But it stung, and would continue to sting. Everyone dealt with pain in their own way.

She shifted, squirming slightly at the thought. What’s next? What wasn’t next? There was so much to do.

“I’ve got to get back to Kal’Shebbol, help patch up what’s left of the troops…notify families, next of kin, all that.” Gritty, gloomy work. But it had to be done. “Before that though, I’d like to see my son.” Her voice took on an earnest edge, though still tired. “I miss him. I don’t like being apart from him, but he’s all smiles once he sees me come home.” It the greatest source of joy that broke her heart. Alan didn’t deserve a mother who was always on the move, leaving him with a slew of babysitters, and the guilt ate away at her. At the very least, she could take comfort in the fact that she was providing for her child, protecting him from the ugly parts of his heritage until he grew to the age where he could handle it.

Not that she was relishing that day.

“You?”

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

A son?

Now that was surprising to him.

She hadn't mentioned him before, so it came from the left field for him, but perhaps that was more because Joza didn't really seem like much of mother material. Not after the first meeting, second meeting and now the third meeting, but people had hidden depths and Locke wasn't gonna be the one to question it.

He kept the surprise of his face and voice, but as an empath Perl might pick something up from his feelings, maybe. If she was paying enough attention to it.

"Gotta be rough." He agreed, before finally letting the remnants of his cigarette rest on the ashtray next to his bed.

"Having to move all around the Galaxy and leaving your blood behind."

Not that Elly had much experience with it. No kids or significant women, both parents and siblings so estranged that it was barely worth mentioning.

"Me? Probably heal up some more, then get back to work again. World don't sleep just because we want it to, no?"

 

[Joza Perl]

His surprise, well…wasn’t much of a surprise. Her talent for reading people extended a bit beyond her racial inclinations, but the empathy certainly made things easier. Couldn’t turn it off, so she’d spent the years refining the skill. Comparatively, Joza considered herself to be luckier than natural non-Zeltron empaths, whose gift often caused pain if left uncontrolled. Zeltrons taught their young how to deal with it from an early age.

Wasn’t the only thing they taught them, of course.

She was used to it, though. Zeltron culture was usually dismissed as silly and hedonistic, a trait that carried over onto her. Pink skin did that to you, and suddenly your sex life and your looks were everything that defined you. To the loudest onlookers, that was. The whispers, the looks, they were all the same. Joza had learned to work with it in time, turning the stereotype into a strategic social camouflage . Though earnest, the woman wasn’t beyond subtly manipulating a situation when there was a need.

So she brushed off Locke’s surprise, twirling the cigarette between slender fingers. “Mhm.” The grunt was lower, a bit more betraying of her guilt than she’d expected. The reality of the situation was that there was no easy answer, and there never would be. There was more to her behavior that was often taken at face value. She fished a holopic from her pocket, activating it to reveal the image of her 11 month old son. He was a smiling, happy child with her red hair and skin that was more peach than pink. “Alan. He’s gonna be one soon.” She smiled, fondly at the image though it made her heart swell.

“So what’s work, exactly?” Shifting the topic somewhat, she prompted him. “Can’t just be fighting in wars all the time.”

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He wasn't no empath like her, no forcer either, so there wasn't any magicks nonsense going on.

But Locke had been in the field long enough to be able to read people, the inflection of their voice, the subtlest hint of their body language and the piece that altogether into something he could use. Usually against them, but this time around it allowed him to get a sense of what was going on behind those eyes.

What the little gears were spinning about and making her worry.

"Cute kid." Wasn't a lie either. Zeltron kid, so he had the same charm like most of them had. "No regrets, Perl, we are in this for the same reason... give or take."

"We fight and hurt and bleed so the little guy has a chance." Again he looked at that holo-image. "Little guys like that, so they can grow up with one less problem to worry about."

Maybe it was all for her.

Maybe her guilt was a similar doubt he carried around with him.

"Work? Would have to kill ya after I told ya." Smirk pulled, but there was something playing in those eyes.

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza cracked a smile, eyes still admiring the holographic image of her son. To her, Alan deserved the galaxy. He deserved a mother and a father who lived in a nice home in a nice neighborhood, away from the strife of the common man, away from the war wrought by Jedi and Sith alike. A boring life was often a safe life. Instead he had an on-the-go mother who threw herself into all sorts of (measured) trouble, and an absentee father.

She had grown up without a dad, and so she promised herself that she’d never put her own kids through that. But the circumstances were different—she’d rather Alan never meet his father. She preferred to think of the pregnancy as a surprise rather than a mistake, and after all, she had elected to keep the child.

Locke’s words did not absolve her of her guilt, but they did help to ease her mind. “I’d do anything for him.” She responded in agreement, voice softening just a tad. The Zeltron had to wonder what Locke had seen, what he’d done, what he’d gone through to give him that perspective. You didn’t stay long in his sort of profession without it meaning something to you. Something deep, something real.

The holopic switched off and she met his smirk with a coy smile of her own, cybernetic fingers idly curling into the sheets. “Assuming you could.” She teased back, shifting her head to get a better look at his face as the tone of their conversation lightened a bit. “I bet it’s really boring and you’re just trying to make it sound cool and mysterious. You probably work in purchasing or something.”

You didn’t get scars like that from doing paperwork all day, of course.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

"Nah, accounting."

That was part of Locke's charm.

He didn't have anything to prove to anyone and had no issue cracking jokes about himself. There was no competition with him, because he knew exactly how much he was worth and what he was capable of. Probably also why the previous threat-joke had been so lighthearted. It mattered little what the recipient thought of it, as long as Elly himself was sure he could do it.

Though, Perl would probably whoop his ass right now with his ribs, leg and back, but any other day?

"Lots of papercuts, as you can see." Some of those scars were a bit too huge for paper. "We have very big papers for some projects."

Yeah, that explained it.

Probably.

"So, what do you do, besides throwing yourself at Sith for a nation that isn't your own?"

 

[Joza Perl]

“Papers, right. That would explain it.” She had to hold back a giggle and a roll of her eyes, but they may as well have been there with her lopsided smile. Her organic hand reached out, tracing lightly over a shallow wound on his chest that was in the process of healing. It was a flirty touch, but she didn't think twice.

He was fun, didn’t take himself too seriously which was a nice change of pace. Joza leaned back to stretch, limbs a bit fatigued from the positioning, and winced as the pain flare to life in her ribs. “Oh,” She hissed, teeth gritted for a few moments before she curled back up. Almost forgot about the broken bones for a second.

“I’m a stripper.” Her answer was nonchalant, and though it was a joke, it wasn’t entirely too far from the truth. Well, at one point it wouldn’t have been. “When I’m not righteously fighting evil or working part time as a waitress. You know, every girl’s dream.”

She flashed him a toothy grin, some of the light flickering away in her eyes. She’d gotten her start as a Jedi with the Alliance, but drifted over to the Silver side after meeting with an idol from her childhood days.

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He caught her hand before she could retreat it.

Pulled her in and put his arm over her shoulder. A groan of pain was suppressed when her familiar weight pressed itself against his side, but it was worth it in the long run, Locke doubted either of them had it in them to get it going today. But a bit of warmth went a long way towards recovery, as far as he was concerned. It was difficult to remember that this girl was a Force Master in her own right.

Not all that fragile, but strong in most ways. Hard to remember when she looked so small and tired next to him.

"Does that mean I get a discount for lap dances?" Elly cracked the joke, before smirking. She was mostly joking. Not that it would have mattered much to Locke, the kind of crap he had been through and had done on his missions? Judging someone for exotic dancing for money? That was the least of his concerns. "Cus I could probably go for one now."

Obvious joke.

All Locke wanted to do right now was fall into a long, dreamless sleep. Not that he'd get that, the dreams would always follow.

"So, where's home for you then?"

 

[Joza Perl]

Didn’t have to be sex to be intimate and the feeling of his warmth against her side sent a relaxing sensation that radiated through her body. He was at least somewhat familiar, in a sense, and that much was comforting to her. Physical contact, when warranted, promoted that sort of thing.

At the mention of a lap dance, the spark flickered to full life in her eyes. “You sure about that?” Something akin to a purr vibrated in her throat as her eyes lidded just slightly. As soon as she started moving, shifting her leg over his, Joza could feel the strain on her body and knew that this was a bad idea. Didn’t mean that she was about to stop, though. The Zeltron pushed herself up and over him with no small amount of effort and started to slowly gyrate her hips above his. It wasn’t really a lap dance given their current positions, but it didn’t matter because it wasn’t about to last long. Most of the movement started at the ribs, at her broken ribs, and she was quickly reminded of the fact as a searing pain flared to life in her chest and she lost herself for a moment, dropping down onto the injured Locke.

“Oof,” She grunted, thankfully able to catch some of her weight with her hands on either side of him before she caused any permanent damage. “Sorry,” She breathed, painstakingly sliding off of the poor man and back to his side where she rested her head gently against his shoulder. “That was a teaser, obviously. Can't give you the full detail unless you pay.” She informed before considering his question. She didn’t advertise a lot of aspects of her life, but they weren’t exactly hidden, either.

“Lianna. It’s where my dance studio is. Nice place.” She shifted, fitting closer to him, rubbing the side of her face against his shoulder slightly in the process. “Grew up on Zeltros though, if that’s any surprise. It’s where I learned to dance.”

“You?”

[member="Elliot Locke"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Joza Perl"]

The air was forcibly driven out of his lungs as scalding dance turned into pointy fall.

"Ghruf." No words, just pain and him trying to rough it out as she settled back next to him. "That... was beautiful."

A moment of silence before he added.

"I think."

In truth he appreciated the gesture and attempt. Made him feel less old in the moment, because Elly remembered the days that he could take a good beating and walk it off within a day. Now he had to be cuddled and held for a week, if he wished to survive and be back in tip-top shape.

Good thing they had bacta on the side though. Made it all just a bit easier for him.

"Lianna? Been there about. Tionese are quite... interesting people." Very insular, proud of their heritage, really disliked and actively worked against the Silver's attempts to push their influence on them. Organizations of wealthy corporate influences countering them at each and every turn.

They were xenophobic at best and outright murderous at worst, but as long as it was done clean, in the night and out of sight.

"You wouldn't know the name. Little agriculture backwater world in the heart of Alliance territory- once the Alliance had boots on the ground, I shipped out the first freighter ship going out."